Paris, strolls

Paris, strolls

On foot, on a bike or by bus,
As the crow flies, or pussyfooted,
Under the sun, under the rain or in the snow,
High up, or somewhere green,
By day, or  by night,
As the seasons go by, and according to one’s mood…
Paris is never the same.

Forever a gleaner, I visit this living museum looking for a sign from the past, a trace life would have left somewhere. Here and there, ancient inscriptions : some "Eau et gaz à tous les étages" (running water and domestic gas on every floor). These poetic anachronisms, scattered around the city, survive by hiding within our day and age.

In this street show, bristling with all sorts of characters against a backdrop conceived by Haussmann, one lives one's life. Like so many guardian angels, grimacing gargoyles snigger in the face of inquisitive passers-by. Suspended between sky and earth, brick chimneys line up, looking like tall fellows, some wearing pointed hats, others smoking; recently, they all have been given antennas to stay connected… I have fun taking photographs and composing with these snippets of life. I jump from one subject to another, from a street to a boulevard, I pull invisible strings, I invent as I go along new rules for this game.

My objects are visual narratives depicting these real or imaginary strolls in a poetical Paris. Stories that everyone will interpret in his own way.

More

Paris, strolls