I photograph the way a fisherman fishes. Perched in a corner for hours, camera in hand, settings ready, I wait for the right moment. In this activity I savour the relaxation it offers. I have no particular expectations, but I still appreciate a beautiful shot. I also photograph the way a painter would paint. I exaggerate angles, stretch lines, isolate my subjects, work the light, select my colours. And then I also photograph because I love people's reactions when they're being photographed. Their shyness piercing through their detached demeanour or, on the contrary, their perfectly composed poses. Their joy, mixed with confusion. In these moments, I notice that a smile isn't limited to a banana shape. Photography has taught me to see subtle smiles. The kind our elders often wear. They manage to be joyful or amused without their faces being trained to shout it out.
It's also a place, a niche to fit into. A simple role to take on, one that clearly outlines the place I occupy within a social group. Deep down, when I attend a car gathering alone, I rely on my camera to justify my apparent solitude in that moment. Side effect: my role dampens interactions with others. I come across as focused and professional. Actually, I wonder: deep down, wouldn't I have preferred to be in the exhibitors' shoes, with a beautiful Pontiac? To be able to talk to them thanks to this new role?
Sometimes, this cage is my refuge.
That afternoon, I sat at the edge of a maize field at a crossroads. This spot gave me a lovely view of an S-shaped bend. I had a straw hat on, sitting on my camping stool, camera in hand. It was so relaxing to wait there. Cars were, in the end, few and far between. Those that did pass stood out all the more. Fortunately for my SLR, it got the chance to capture a few rather charming bikers. But ultimately, that SLR was just a pretext. Sitting outside waiting in the middle of the countryside was my real activity. Of course I preferred having my camera to freeze a few moments — and yet, without it, it would have been just as good. But without it, what would I be doing on the side of that road?