Dull Violence (1992 - 2016)
I chose to ride the tiger of an intensive life, across multiple activities, geographies and cultures. During 30 years, through my photographic projects, I observed and questionned the absurdity and the dull, invisible violence of the postmodern reality I was thrown in. They stand in the brutalist architectecture and in the urban sprawl of the cities I was living in (Paris, Shanghai), and of iconic places I visited, like New-York, Tokyo or New-Delhi. How to find one’s place and meaning in such deshumanized and desacralized environments? As a result of what, prevails a sense of seclusion and anonymity among a stream of passers-by, guided towards who knows what, captured by an imperceptible yet strict control.
Brutalisme
Perdus dans la brume
Les docks anesthésiés par la nuit suivent leur propre trace
La neige tombe de lassitude,
En fumée blanche et obèse.
Nous longeons les usines de briques
Les grilles, les haut-fourneaux
L’autoroute courbe
Les symboles et les fausses lumières
Une fuite dans une direction unique
Flots, cadences,
Personne.
Les docks anesthésiés par la nuit suivent leur propre trace
La neige tombe de lassitude,
En fumée blanche et obèse.
Nous longeons les usines de briques
Les grilles, les haut-fourneaux
L’autoroute courbe
Les symboles et les fausses lumières
Une fuite dans une direction unique
Flots, cadences,
Personne.
Espoir
Il y avait dans le bleu du ciel
Un fragment de ce rêve
Que je n’ai jamais osé
Voler
Un fragment de ce rêve
Que je n’ai jamais osé
Voler
In My Solitude
Seul au seuil d’une nuit sans songe
Révant au contour parfait
D’un cercle inconnu
J’ai vécu
Révant au contour parfait
D’un cercle inconnu
J’ai vécu
Passers-by
Nowhere to move out
Nowhere to hang out
No alpha no omega
Spiralling in meaningless circles
Ringing loudness bells
Of solitude and haggard rushes
We are passers-by.
Thrown on a nearby pavement
Under clothless lights
We grip rusty rails of fallen ideas
And breathe fresh air in controlled purchases;
Our fulfilment lies in concrete
Our love in mirrors
We seek forgiveness in speed
and sins in cans.
We are all passers-by.
The night looks as bright as the day
The white shirts shed a misleading light
Shadows cross fearless
The seaside cannot wash cities anymore
The old order is broken.
Who holds the dream
And the sacred fire on?
Blinded by a dust of power
Bonded by agreed mistakes
It’s hard to swim against the flow
Even to look at the source
Alone.
And we stand homeless in our crowdy dwellings.
O Passer-by
Look out at the cloud, your last hope,
And tell the Street we lie here
Obedient to its words.
Nowhere to hang out
No alpha no omega
Spiralling in meaningless circles
Ringing loudness bells
Of solitude and haggard rushes
We are passers-by.
Thrown on a nearby pavement
Under clothless lights
We grip rusty rails of fallen ideas
And breathe fresh air in controlled purchases;
Our fulfilment lies in concrete
Our love in mirrors
We seek forgiveness in speed
and sins in cans.
We are all passers-by.
The night looks as bright as the day
The white shirts shed a misleading light
Shadows cross fearless
The seaside cannot wash cities anymore
The old order is broken.
Who holds the dream
And the sacred fire on?
Blinded by a dust of power
Bonded by agreed mistakes
It’s hard to swim against the flow
Even to look at the source
Alone.
And we stand homeless in our crowdy dwellings.
O Passer-by
Look out at the cloud, your last hope,
And tell the Street we lie here
Obedient to its words.
From projects and series completed between 1992 and 2016, in New-York, Paris, Shanghai and China.