In 1980, as a young photographer at Paris Match, I was called in with my sidekick, Bernard Wis, to see our boss, Roger Thérond. Thinking we were in trouble, we walked sheepishly into his office. But we weren’t in trouble. He assigned us a mission which obviously meant a lot to him. Delighted to have his trust, we accepted without further discussion.
The mission involved following and photographing Henri Cartier-Bresson. We were to shoot the photos, obviously, without being seen. We had been given carte blanche.
What I assumed would be a simple job turned out to be one of the most grueling reporting jobs I’ve ever done; Cartier-Bresson was fast. He galloped across the city, rushing into metro cars and leaping out at the last minute, stopping suddenly to scan his surroundings and whipping out his Leica like a gunslinger from a holster.
Thinking we had been spotted, we had to take every precaution, which was exhausting after a day spent tracking this marathon man.
By shooting quickly and adopting his style, we managed to take a few pictures.
The photographs we took day after day were satisfactory.
Then one day, Cartier-Bresson abandoned his Leica for a drawing pad. Still on his heels, we followed him along the banks of the Seine opposite the Louvre, where he sat quietly on a bench, sketching passers-by and tourists.
Then the idea came to me: I took my shirt off and lay down about ten feet in front of him like a sunbather. I was the perfect tourist, but I had my camera hidden in my scarf. I sat there waiting for the right moment to shoot, when all of a sudden I saw an enormous St. Bernard approaching along the quai.
Cartier-Bresson was focused on his sketches and didn’t see the dog, which, being in the foreground, gave this photograph a peculiar quality.
In the days that followed, we took more pictures of Cartier-Bresson, as he left his drawing class on the Boulevard Raspail or shared a tender moment with his daughter.
We thought we were done, but when we showed our work to Roger Thérond, he asked us to keep going. That’s the story of how, for over a month, I photographed Henri Cartier-Bresson in the style of Henri Cartier-Bresson.
These photos were never published, but Roger Thérond was satisfied with our work. And that was enough for us.
Bruno Mouron
