Clarisse Canteloube : Suspended Gaze
In a world saturated with fleeting images and stories consumed in haste, Clarisse Canteloube stands as a sentinel of the gaze. Photographer, filmmaker, screenwriter, producer — she navigates these realms with the fluidity of a tightrope walker on the thread of the visible, each step measured yet daring, each gesture calculated yet poetic. Her images do not merely capture reality; they question it, fragment it, elevate it into enigma, as if each frame carries within it the weight of time and the memory of what escapes us.
There is in her an elegance that sometimes borders on mannerism, a sensitivity that clashes with the cold mechanics of commercial production. This tension between art and commission is not a compromise: it is the very engine of her work, a space of friction that makes her creations both captivating and uncertain. Her films, marked by demanding sobriety, speak of solitude, of hesitations in expression, of a humanity suspended on the edge of intimacy and spectacle. Her photographs, meanwhile, testify to an insatiable curiosity about what we choose to show and hide, about the light that reveals as much as it conceals.
Meeting Clarisse Canteloube is to accept plunging into these interstices — between cinema and photography, between narrative and pure image, between the commercial and the exacting. It is entering a universe where every shot is a question posed to the world, where every image is a mirror held up to the viewer. This interview is not just a journey into her world; it is an invitation to examine these zones of tension, to understand the audacity and precision of her gaze, and to listen to the silent critique she whispers through her work about what we have become.
Website : www.clarissecanteloube.com
Instagram : @clarissecanteloube
Your first photographic trigger?
Clarisse Canteloube: The nudes by David Hamilton. I used to collect the postcards. I realized how much a photo can hide.
A photographic memory from your childhood?
C.C.: A bad memory. My father forced me to pose for him.
The camera of your childhood?
C.C.: I didn’t have one. I secretly took my father’s. A Nikon.
The one you use today?
C.C.: A Leica M7.
The man or woman in an image who inspired you?
C.C.: The portrait of Sandra Bennett, 12 years old, in overalls in In the American West, standing solid and straight in front of the camera while you feel more fragility in all the men he photographed. These portraits are deeply moving. Elliott Erwitt, the photo with dog paws, women’s boots under the skirt, the leash, and the little dog in a hat!
An image you wish you had taken?
C.C.: A portrait of Nelson Mandela, to meet him, and those portraits of workers in In the American West for the humanity that emanates from them.
The one that moved you the most?
C.C.: Self-portraits always move me a lot because they reflect our existence. Francesca Woodman’s self-portraits made me reflect deeply. Photographers who do many self-portraits have something to resolve with their image, and more profoundly with themselves. Recently, I saw a self-portrait by Marie-Laure de Decker, whose work I admire, and it moved me. She photographed herself with her newborn…
And the one that made you angry?
C.C.: A photo of me at 12 or 13, topless, taken by my father.
A photo that changed the world?
C.C.: The first one, I suppose.
And a photo that changed your world?
C.C.: Elliott Erwitt, always, for the humor.
A key image in your personal pantheon?
C.C.: The first photo I bought with the earnings from my first job: a close-up of a woman’s genitalia by Irving Penn.
What interests you most in an image?
C.C.: Emotion.
What details do you look for in a face, a landscape, or an object?
C.C.: I look to feel emotion, the soul of the person, often in the eyes but also on the skin. I dislike makeup that hides the skin. I also seek emotion in a landscape and, for objects, especially the beauty of lines and light.
Elliott Erwitt said: “Color is descriptive. Black and white is interpretive.” Do you agree?
C.C.: I don’t really know what he means by “interpretive,” but I would say black and white goes to the essential.
Do you think technique can sometimes take precedence over emotion in photography?
C.C.: I don’t like photos where technique takes precedence over emotion.
Is beauty in photography purely aesthetic for you?
C.C.: No.
What elements can make silence visible in a photograph?
C.C.: The gaze and/or the framing. The void.
Does the uniqueness of a photograph come from the moment or the staging? Can a photograph be truer than reality?
C.C.: I believe it comes from the moment. Reality is always truer because it is not the same for everyone.
Can a photograph change our perception of an event?
C.C.: For some people, probably. Not for me so much.
Is photography a testimony or a form of manipulation?
C.C.: It can be both.
What makes a good photo?
C.C.: Creating emotion in the viewer.
In your opinion, what quality is necessary to be a good photographer?
C.C.: Sensitivity.
How do you choose your projects?
C.C.: I need to transmit and be transformed by a project. I am fortunate today to be able to choose them. That’s why I also use other mediums.
How would you describe your creative process?
C.C.: I increasingly direct, but I still love face-to-face portraits. I often work alone without music and give few instructions, leaving the person with themselves. That’s where I can capture something of them.
A forthcoming project close to your heart?
C.C.: My next film.
The person you would like to photograph?
C.C.: Patti Smith, to meet her.
The one you would like to be photographed by?
C.C.: I don’t like being photographed. Peter Lindbergh could have taken a beautiful portrait of me.
An essential photography book?
C.C.: In the American West by Richard Avedon.
The last photo you took?
C.C.: An orange technician who came for fiber optics, to finish my film. He was surprised!
On social media, are you more Instagram, Facebook, TikTok—and why?
C.C.: Instagram for the visual side, even though I don’t go there much anymore. My account is like a diary, the memory of life moments.
What has changed in photography since social media’s rise?
C.C.: I don’t like digital photography, and social media doesn’t showcase photos well. Too many images.
An Instagram account to follow absolutely?
C.C.: My daughter, Sarah Chouraqui, who is a very good astrologer. (@sarah.chouraqui)
Your view on AI?
C.C.: I’m interested and enjoy testing it on esoteric subjects like tarot readings or astrological transits. It’s quite impressive. I think one needs to be grounded and mature for it not to be dangerous.
Color or black and white?
C.C.: Black and white.
Natural light or artificial light?
C.C.: Natural light.
The city you find most photogenic?
C.C.: Los Angeles.
The city, country, or culture you dream of discovering?
C.C.: Japan.
The place you never tire of?
C.C.: My home.
The image that represents today’s world for you?
C.C.: Just look at social media. I don’t see a single image in particular.
What do you think is missing in today’s world?
C.C.: The understanding that we are responsible for our own lives and free to get carried away by this big circus—or not.
If God existed, would you ask Him to pose for you or take a selfie with Him?
C.C.: I think He is in each of us; I photograph Him every time I take a photo.
Your favorite drug?
C.C.: Sleep and dreams.
Your best way to disconnect?
C.C.: Sleeping.
Your last folly?
C.C.: My wisdom.
Your greatest professional extravagance?
C.C.: Acting in my next film with my son.
A job you wouldn’t have liked to do?
C.C.: Working in an office with fixed hours.
The question that throws you off the most?
C.C.: “Have you moved on?”
The last thing you did for the first time?
C.C.: Attending the 8 a.m. mass last Monday at Notre Dame with my goddaughter. I love first experiences.
Your greatest regret?
C.C.: I have no regrets; I do my best with what I have.
If you had to start over?
C.C.: I would do the same, saying “Yes” a little more often.
If I could organize your ideal dinner, who would be at the table?
C.C.: A tête-à-tête with the man I love.
What do you like people to say about you… afterwards?
C.C.: I’ve learned not to pay attention to what people say about me, but if it’s someone who matters, I like them to say: “How wonderful it was to be in her company.”
The one thing people absolutely need to know about you?
C.C.: I go to bed early!
A final word?
C.C.: Thank you.
