Here, it is not so much the titanic space of the place that intrigues me, but the private character of these forgotten houses. I confess to being totally fascinated by the old houses where all traces of life remain inside.
I arrive in front of these great buildings where silence is king. I walk slowly to find a passage without knowing what awaits me. Stress invades me when I arrive a few meters from a potential entrance. I enter, I move at velvet pace, my senses are all alert, I listen, I observe before moving forward as cautiously as possible. This tension, I know, will not leave me until I am outside the building again. The surprise, when I enter, is total. I have a front row seat to the spectacle of the past. I don’t start by taking photographs, I visit, slowly, I observe the entrances of lights, I immerse myself totally in this living nothingness. Once the visit is over, the art takes back its full place, the pictures multiply in my faithful camera. I regularly return to the same room, the lights and shadows change rapidly. In order to have The photo, the one that will make me dream, the one that will allow me to transmit an emotion, a feeling, a material memory.
I don’t touch anything, I don’t move anything. It is one of my own convictions, I enter these places and I leave only by leaving footprints. Family photos in frames, personal objects, I enter rooms where people have lived and loved each other, argued, reconciled, tears have fallen. Sometimes for happiness, sometimes for something else… But why leave everything behind? What happened to that family? Everything seems so untouched, as if they just left… Years ago.
Series realized between 2014 and 2019.