Isabella.

In her story, Isabella masters sound at night at Nachtwerk, her Ghent studio, from six in the evening to six in the morning. She closes her eyes in front of the monitors, listens to a whole take, listens to it again, and only then speaks: "at three thousand two hundred hertz there's a peak." The client doesn't hear it; she does. This poster takes her still face from that life and sets it down front-on, to be read in a single glance on any wall. The barn owl, in fact, hunts in total darkness guided only by its hearing: the disc of feathers around its face gathers sound like an antenna.

Isabella lives at night: her day begins when everyone else's ends, and she measures the hours not by a clock but by the carillon of the Belfry. Her home is an attic with high ceilings, near Sint-Baaf square, with the rent going up and her daytime sleep at stake. Hung above a desk or in a hallway, this portrait works just as well, with no glare to get in the way, and brings that stillness of hers home: the stillness of someone who, before giving an opinion, says "wait" and tunes in for a second. There's more about her in her biography.