My name is Morris Michiels. Online, it's Mowix. I'm fifteen, Belgian, and I spend most of my free time photographing cars that aren't mine.
Cars are the foundation. My father and my grandfather pulled me into them long before I could hold a camera: the days at Spa-Francorchamps, the rallies in the village next door, the sound you hear before the car even comes into view. That is what makes me smile, and it is my reason to get up in the morning.
The other thing I inherited is a way of working. My father and my other grandfather are entrepreneurs; my father started at eighteen and has never really stopped since. I grew up watching that nothing arrives on its own, and that anything solid is built over years. That is where the reflex comes from — leaving a business card on a window without knowing what will come of it.
It started late in 2023. I had an iPhone 11, my father's old Nikon D7000, no idea what I was doing and an empty TikTok account. I posted cars I came across in town, at meets, in car parks. I couldn't frame a shot, I couldn't grade one. I only knew I wanted to do it again the next day.
The turning point isn't a photo. It's a car park, abroad. I had gone shopping with my camera on my shoulder out of habit, and there it was: a Golf parked in the sun, immaculate. I took a few frames. Then I slipped my business card under the edge of the window, without believing for a second that anything would come of it.
Mika wrote to me. He had bought that car two days earlier — he found it funny that a stranger had photographed it before he had. We talked, and he agreed to pay me ten euros for the photos. Ten euros. It's nothing, and it is the most important thing that has happened to me: for the first time, someone liked my work enough to want to keep it.
Since then the question is no longer whether I love this. It's how far I can take it. For my fifteenth birthday I got my first real body, a Sony ZV-E10 II. In August 2026 I started studying photography at school — the course only opens in the fourth year, so I chose the year that teaches me the craft.
On location I always start the same way: the full car, whole, straight away. On the street you never know whether it will pull off in two minutes — so I secure the frames I would regret not having. Only then do I go looking: the angles, the light, the detail that shows up from one spot and nowhere else. And if there is time left, I shoot a few clips to cut into a video.
What I look for in an image is what the owner feels looking at their car, and what a listing photo will never show. Late light running along a wing, a reflection following a line, the moment the machine stops being an object. I treat every photo like a film frame: intent, rhythm, emotion.
Even now, when I pass a car in the street, I stop. Hypercar or an old thing worth nothing at all, it makes no difference: I look at it, and if I get the chance to photograph it, I do. This is what I want to do with my life.
My real difficulty isn't technical. It's my age. People open my profile, see fifteen, and hesitate — and I understand them. On the other side there are photographers established for years, filmmakers shooting for large brands, and the near-certainty of a good result. Trusting someone my age with your images is a risk nobody is obliged to take.
So I'm not asking anyone for a favour. A professional sells you their experience; what I have is different — I have everything to prove. Nobody will spend more time on your photos than I will, because nobody needs it as much. I don't count the hours: when you love what you do, it isn't really work. That is how I intend to stand apart, and to turn this into my profession.
Mowix started with cars and will keep going with them. But what I photograph, underneath it all, is a moment that matters to someone — a wedding, a watch, a launch, an object somebody cares about. The car is my way in, not my limit.
That's what this site is for. To show that work — and to meet the people who love their car, their brand or their project enough to want to see it made large.
“I create connections, not clients.”