My photographic notebooks are the expression of interior travels.
They are the editing table of recombined fragments of life.
On one of my pages it says : rereading is reconnecting one’s thoughts.
There are notebooks of light, sensual notebooks, notebooks of anger.
Maternity notebooks, film notebooks and notebooks about unemployment,
amorous notebooks and others about absence.
All of them allow ideas written on a post-it to reappear and take a new form.
They give a second life to photographic archives buried in drawers or boxes.
In a notebook anything is possible, all illusions are allowed. I once gathered
the light of Africa in order to let it come out when it is cold over here. I gleaned bright colours as a therapy against the grey parisian winter. I captured love, whose memories light up moments of solitude, and caught hold of inspiration for times of emptiness.
In my family chronicles, the past blends with the present. I connect with my
ancestors whom I put into relation with present generations. I give life to my
late father, who in my pages rejoins my contemporary family life. It is a matter of struggling against loss, or resisting time that passes.
While photography to me is rather an instantaneous act, notebooks and collages make it become an object. The collages are part of the same creative process, but they permit to include denser materials. A lemon net offers a palpable dimension to the image. The teased-apart page of an ancient photo album becomes its frame.
Over time, beyond my documentary photographs and films, a personal oeuvre of both notebooks and collages, the expression of daily poetry, has developed.