Soil, cement, water, a few trees, traces of tires and old works, cigarette butts, reflections, rising sun, shadows of what overhangs the support of the forgotten past, flatness of evanescent life.
How the real is revealed by its shadow and its reflection, intertwined one in the other, which are the only two ways to perceive it. Layer after layer, the real stretches out in abyss on our sensitive surfaces.
Because of the mechanical nature of its technical function, photography is for me a matter of time rather than a visual matter : in its silver salts, or its pixels today, it is time which is captured, preserved, reinvented at every glance. Time of life, time of vision, time of poetry.