My own photo story
I found my first camera in my grandparents’ basement. Around 1990. My grandfather bought me a roll of 35mm film at the local newspaper stand that same afternoon. I shot a sunny field, guessing exposure from the instructions on the film box. Every picture was a mess.
In high school, a black and white photography class. Developing film in the darkroom, watching images appear in the chemical bath. I wanted to build a lab in my parents’ basement. They said no.
Years later, I saved enough for a Canon 350D. My first digital reflex. No more film costs. Freedom to experiment. Photography got me.
I started attending live music gigs in Paris. Brought the camera everywhere. The kit lens was useless in dark venues—my pictures were terrible. But I loved it. The changing lights, the chaos, the randomness. I was hooked.
A few random shots of a Parisian all-girl rock band got bought by a magazine. I joined a small music photography agency. Summer 2005, Rock en Seine—Pixies, Franz Ferdinand, Foo Fighters, Arcade Fire, Queens of the Stone Age. A friend lent me a Canon 70-200 2.8L for the weekend. No questions asked.
I ran among photographers to catch the right moment. During Queens of the Stone Age, I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. I can’t describe it.
By 2007, I was shooting Hellfest. Heavy rain, more mud than grass. I lost a shoe. Didn’t matter. Metal festivals are pure—people living exactly who they are. The faces on stage and in the crowd, unguarded.
I took one picture that weekend. My favorite I’ve ever made. You don’t need to know the band or like the music. You just see what’s happening between the performer and the crowd. The green fog, the connection.
Then I moved. Paris to Brittany. New job, new partner. A road trip from Montreal to San Francisco. Landed in Lille.
December 26th, 2009. A burglar broke into my house. All my gear was stolen.
Something broke with it. I never shot near a stage again. I’ve tried other cameras since. It’s not the same.
The green fog picture is still my favorite. I don’t have the gear that made it anymore. Maybe that’s why I can’t move on.