The Frenchies

From 1982 to 1992, I photographed a lot of people, French people, in street, during events. Unidentified people, politicians, tourists.
I love those moments when people jump at my presence, grab hold of themselves , contort themselves; ambiguous acts, accidental encounters, the street as a parallel world, strange, comic and dramatic at the same time.
Traffic New York, 1999-2003
There are always traffic jams on Canal Street, where I live. The Americans seem melancholic and resigned, crouched behind the tinted windows of their large sedan. Others on buses or in taxis doze off, struck by the lengthy day. From the sidewalk, I examine them through my powerful telephoto lens. I look at them looking at me, incredulous, stunned like animals caught in the headlights, at night. Some do not move. Others try to turn around, protect themselves with their newspaper, their hand. Some confront my mechanical gaze, thus abandoning their image to a destiny they know nothing about.
I shot the crowd Paris, New York, Shanghai, Phnom Penh, 2009

In underground stations, market or universities entrances, in some of the largest cities in the world, I record human surge.
Hundreds, thousands of faces parade through my viewfinder and I shoot in a blinding burst, my assistants’ flashes revealing expressions of surprise, transforming a continuous flow into an ephemeral painting.
What can we learn from our common adventure, observing relationships between the individual and the crowd, but also from one crowd to another - morphologies, densities, directions, rhythms?
The black sheet New York 2010

Photographing a black photograph. Nothing to see, except reflected elements.
Here, myself, my family, friends. The surface is shiny, its texture transforming, smashing what’s reflected. It is an excess of light that makes it possible to produce an image in this dark sheet that would normally absorb everything.
This black sheet is like our mind, reflecting what happens around us, but all this activity does not interfere with its primordial empty quality.
Images are like thoughts: they seem stable, important but are immaterial. They just come and go.