When looking at the photograph on the flyer, some people asked whether it was a collage. It is not.
While on journeys, I have often noticed how reality itself may be witty, inventive or mischievous, and I have never felt the need to manipulate it.
I have a weakness for places that have known better days.
I wonder as I wander, swerve, stroll among remains or stunning landscapes, waste land or bazaars. I ramble around melancholia, endearing ugliness or weird beauty.
I act as a kind of prowler awaiting to be intrigued, amused or overwhelmed, in search of nonsenses, ghosts, delinquencies, life that stands still or vibrant still lives.
I am always in hope for contradictions and mysteries that I don't wish to decipher, visual oxymorons that a very dear friend once summarized by talking of “blind illuminations” -- which could have been another title for this exhibition.
And so the game may begin. But it is a tender game, and I hope that this tenderness is visible in my photographs. The play is between opposites: absence and presence, emptiness and fullness, isolation and multitude, fondness and irony, the very near and the far away.
The inner and the strange.
I do not pretend, I don’t explain. Those who look at my photographs can invent their own story. I pass by, ask questions, wonder at things. And the little click of the shutter is no more than a reverence. And that is all that really matters…