Personal photography
As a viewer of photography, when I look back at the images that truly stay with me, they almost always contain something strange. A detail that doesn’t belong. A gesture that seems out of place. A moment that cracked the frame open. In short: the unexpected.
I posted this photo last week as my contribution to Aminus3’s photo prompt: minimal. I thought I might as well explain it here.
A lot of photographers talk about AI like it’s the enemy. They’re furious about it: AI generates images that never existed, requires no skill, no vision, no time spent in the world observing. It’s cheating. It’s the end of photography as a legitimate practice.
They’re blaming at the wrong thing, though.
I took this photo in Paris on a November early morning. I published it in a note previously, but I thought it would be good to explain it.
Taken in the town near Paris where my parents live. I couldn’t resist the repetition of the heads.
For me, photography is a deeply solitary process. It’s not something I do in the company of others, nor in groups, and I don’t really talk about it with anyone directly. In an era of social media and oversharing, where every moment seems to be documented for likes and comments, this may seem counterintuitive. But for me, the act of taking photos is about introspection. It’s a personal experience. One that doesn’t require, and is often hindered by, external input.
As I shoot mostly square at the moment, I look for symmetry. the square format lends itself to highlighting symmetry because of the symmetry of the frame.
When I was at Paris Photo, I saw that spot and the symmetry of everything struck me. Everything was so perfectly as it should be. Except the RJ which I put in the middle to accentuate that it’s different from the rest.
Fog and sun make an interesting mix. This is also a mix of technique for me: landscape photo, but in square and monochrome. Mixing it up all round this morning.
I took this photo at an exhibition in the Quai Branly museum in Paris.
The line of headphones is what attracted me when I was walking from piece to piece in the exhibition (Hoda Afshar). They have nothing to do with the exhibition itself, they’re probably there in general, but when I saw them I knew I wanted to photograph them somehow.
View from above at Paris Photo. It reminded me of a rat labyrinth so I couldn’t resist.
