This series is simply one photographer’s desire to take a look at what was going on close to home. A wish to see things through his own eyes (instead of working on a commission).
With no assignment, no money but driven by the force of the photographer’s duty, I went to Calais, knowing that it already featured on the news every day. But I had to do it.
Walking, greeting passers-by, camera slung across my shoulder, saying hello, moving past and carrying on, saying hi, sitting down, talking, explaining things, sharing a cigarette or two, taking a picture. That’s what I did for a week.
As the days went by, I shot scenes from everyday life there. Simple photographs that I found made a point.
I didn’t want hard-hitting images of barriers being jumped over, or clouds of tear gas versus stone-throwing. I could have got those pictures. I could have shown people being arrested if I’d decided to follow the different groups trying to get out of France at night. But I resigned myself to things.
It’s only a short journey from expectation to despair. The tents don’t keep the warmth in long. The mud, the cold, the damp and the wind knock it out of you, gradually wearing you down to a state of despair.
So yes, you might turn violent, you might try and get into a truck any way that you can. When you’ve got nothing left and you’re left in these conditions, it’s not about whether despair is acceptable or not: it’s a fact of life.
No, here I saw Iraqis, Egyptians, Sudanese, human beings…
A neighbour, a friend… things you’d forgotten about.
I wanted human photographs of peace that would speak for themselves. I wanted an image focused on the absurdity of the human condition neglected in our country, France.
Yves Salaün
