BROOKLYN / SUMMER 08

This is the last part of the "rediscovering old rolls of film" moment (for now). I don't think I'd have proper words to describe my experience in Brooklyn and NYC last summer; maybe the facts alone would be enough. I lived with a family that included 3 kids and 2 black cats; we had trees in the garden; someone gave me a bike; our neighbors were fighting, singing and dancing at night; the water was running on the sidewalks all day long; rats ran between my legs many times; I walked through Manhattan most evenings and nights; I had amazing japanese food and the best sake ever; I crossed the Brooklyn bridge at night on my bike; I saw falling stars while lying on a rooftop in the East Village; I discovered the Satmar community right by my house; I fought with parrots and saw models come and go in an appartment on 5th Avenue; I had a special visit of an exhibit at Gagosian Gallery; I partied at the French Embassy while bubbles where flying over Central Park; I swam in the amazing public pool of my neighborhood; I spent the 4th of July looking at the river with the crowd singing under the rain; Eli told me "I missed you" one sunday when I was coming back from yoga; I met people, learnt, passed out, worked; and the day I left, someone I had seen 3 or 4 times in my life came to my place to give me a hug. So now, sometimes, I want to go back there.

DEATH VALLEY / 6 AM

Except for a short trip to Palm Springs and around, I had never been in the middle of a desert before going to Death Valley. After driving for hours we entered the Valley at night, around midnight I think. It was so dark, we were just sliding endlessly, seeing another car form time to time, glimpses of light, and emptiness again. At some point, wondering how many miles away the hotel was, we stopped the car on the side of the road to breathe. No moon, no stars in the sky; no wind. The air was trembling (or was it me?), and if you looked past the car and into the desert, all there was was darkness. And then the silence. I had never experienced a silence of such quality; trying to listen to something made me feel like I was a ghost, out of the world, unable to come back. I played and rested in it for a few minutes; then I got scared and quickly got back in the car. The next day we woke up early to watch the cold desert at dawn.

BANGKOK / LEICA

My friend Eva let me use her Leica camera to shoot a roll of film when we were in Bangkok. I liked it, even though it took me a few shots to even think about the focus, and a few more to need less than several minutes before pressing the shutter button! I guess it's a matter of habits. I have been unpacking my things lately, new beginnings in a new place. And I have to say, keeping hard drives in a safe place is nice, but rediscovering negatives after a long time, touching them and looking at them, has more meaning in the end. So I am glad I shot at least one roll of film in Thailand. Merci Eva!

LA PLAGE

Whether we want it or not, every photograph is a memory. Not only a memory of the things, places or people represented, but also a memory of who we were when we pressed the shutter button -a memory of how we looked at the world, before. I think I started "photography" after a bad breakup; I realized that the feeling of loneliness made the physical world around change, shapes and colors. Things that were soft or neutral became sharper, threatening. I understood they would keep evolving with time, so I decided to record the evolution. This is probably why, at the beach, I never photograph the sea, wide angle, full frame. It is one of the places in the world that means life, balance, and stillness, whatever is in my mind. No evolution there.

NYC / BERLIN

It's interesting how people often describe big cities inhabitants as lonely, egoistic individuals. Maybe it is true in some cases or contexts; but then they should also mention the other part of the metropolis experience. There is a true solidarity between those who consciously decide to settle, and survive, inside the monster. NY especially made me see and feel it. I realized it on both sides of manhattan, sitting on rooftops. Maud, welcome back; Leili, I hope you're doing good.

AUXERRE

Rainy sunday; it's dark, cold and wet. I enjoy facing this, whenever I feel balanced and well-rooted to the floor. I can face it with my mind and my eyes, which means that I can face it with my body and therefore, photograph it. This is because visual experience, I think, is an expression of my everyday engagement/involvement with the surrounding world.
The more balanced and serene I feel, the darker my images might end up being. I just feel ready to keep my eyes open, and play.

J’attends d’être intérieurement submergé, enseveli. Je peins peut-être pour surgir. - Paul Klee