Where I stand

A photographer’s place is a privilege. I never take it for granted. People open their days, their homes, their faces to me: intimate moments, privileged ones. I enter the way you enter someone’s house: invited, and aware of it.

I believe what matters cannot be captured. It has to be earned, through silence, attention, and time given.

I refuse to manufacture. A provoked tear is a break-in; a welcomed tear is a trust. I know the difference.

There are also confidences. Something said in front of the camera is often something one finally allows oneself to say, first of all to oneself. It does not belong to me: it stays with you.

I also refuse to show everything. A portrait that tells all tells nothing: I leave everyone their kept share.

Music taught me the essential: knowing when not to play.

What I do is hard to summarise. I sometimes talk about it on stage, at photographers’ conventions. But in front of you it comes down to one question:what must I do so as to damage nothing?

My work ends when the camera goes back in the bag. What I take with me: images. What I leave behind: images too, an experience, a shared moment, and sometimes a small piece of common history, for having been there on a day that mattered.