Confrontation (1992 - to date)
I chose to ride the tiger of an intensive life, across multiple activities, geographies and cultures.
For more than 30 years, I have the faced in my photographic projects
the absurdity and the dull violence of the postmodern life I have been thrown in. They stand in the brutalist architectecture and in the urban sprawl of the cities I was living in (Paris, Shanghai),
and I visited (New-York, Tokyo Honk-Kong or New-Delhi), in no man’s lands,
and in the symbolic figure of the Passerby. 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.
Brutalism
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 and fallen ideas
And breathe fresh air in consumerism
Our fulfilment lies in concrete
Our love in mirrors
We seek forgiveness in speed
and sins in cans.
We are all passers-by.
The white shirts shed a misleading light
The night looks as bright as the day
Shadows cross fearless
The old order is broken
Who keeps the sacred fire and the dream burning?
Blinded by a dust of power
Bonded by agreed mistakes
It’s hard to swim against the flow
Even to look back to the source
Alone
And we stand homeless in our crowdy dwellings.
O Passer-by
Look out at the cloud
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 and fallen ideas
And breathe fresh air in consumerism
Our fulfilment lies in concrete
Our love in mirrors
We seek forgiveness in speed
and sins in cans.
We are all passers-by.
The white shirts shed a misleading light
The night looks as bright as the day
Shadows cross fearless
The old order is broken
Who keeps the sacred fire and the dream burning?
Blinded by a dust of power
Bonded by agreed mistakes
It’s hard to swim against the flow
Even to look back to the source
Alone
And we stand homeless in our crowdy dwellings.
O Passer-by
Look out at the cloud
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.