Variations
It was while reading this poem by François Coppée that the “Variations” series was born.
I was sitting on the pebbles by the sea. Under a clear sky, the waves, a violet azure, having swelled as they rushed in from the open water, like a man burdened by a heavy load unburdening himself, broke before me, rhythmic and successive. I watched these heavy, massive waves that marked their regular falls with a roar and then retreated, groaning, onto the stones. And this sound intoxicated me; and, to listen better, I veiled my face and closed my eyes. So, hearing the waves on the shore boil and run, and always, and without respite collapse making this rhythmic crash, I, the humble observer of rhythm, thought that it must indeed be a sacred thing, since he who knows, who commands and who creates, has drawn from nothing these musical means, these cliffs with rocks hollowed for echoes, these sonorous pebbles, these strident shells incessantly struck and rolled on the beaches by the wave, for so many thousands of winters, only so that the ocean might recite verses to us.
In “Variations,” digital photographs are laid raw on paper, with only a slight saturation of color. The aim of this series is to create an emotional connection between the image and the viewer, to stir each person’s sensitivity. Reality is then transformed into infinite variations of hues. I use light, color, the sea, nature. The slow shutter speed of my camera serves as a brush to stretch the hues; the photographs then become paintings.
