The more I photograph the colours, the more I like them. Specially the reds. They are my sun.

The poet for whom I've made the photo lives in Ibiza. He is 72 years old. He likes to dream, read Keats. And dancing.

 

A surfer on his board, a branch of lilac, an old boozer... In photography, all the subjects are equal.

In Oslo, I went out a lot. Black metal concerts.Pubs. Movie clubs. But on Sunday, it was loneliness and dolls.

 

This book is fascinating. Because of the photos of the popess of still life. And the so beautiful narrative of Diana Du Pont.

In Bern, one evening of boredom, I watched the falling snow. And then I've made the photo. My first still life.

Sunday at the flea market, seen Kurt. My friend DJ beamed. He had finally found the teaspoons of his dreams.

 

I've always been attracted to the raw object. The old puppets. The dead leaves. The sticks.

 

Make exist a moment that will never happen again, it's my job. My pleasure. My opium.

Yesterday's evening, in Paris, I've walked aimlessly. Few strollers on the main boulevards. I felt empty.

 

When I'm down, I have a little trick. Always the same. I offer to myself a small bouquet.

Some take photos of nude models. Others, of the countryside. Personnally, I've an other idea of fun.

 

My friend Kurt, Dj in Berlin, wants one of my photos of dead leaves. He intends to offer it to his aunt Petra, an old botanist.

A giant bug? A gargoyle? The angel of the trees? It's amazing what we can see in a bark...

My spring 2012? Listen to reggae. Read some poetry. And for my photos, to study Morandi. And Sudek. And Tichy.

It was a sunday. My mother had just left in her country. The sad smile. Bent. I was worried.

 

In Ibiza, my friend Pablo, the poet, brought me often collages. He saw me becoming the Pope of photographic haiku.

 

I like the yellowed magazines. The abandoned dolls. And take pictures that look outdated. It's my luxury.

 

Tzaroff, the former boyfriend of my mother looks like an old bird. Yesterday, because of the elections, he was in a bad mood.

 

Sweet proposal...I offer a print of my "Red Bunch" to the first who gives me a cd of electroacoustic music. Okay?

She has given me the leaf. Then, after a smile, she went back for a walk. I've never reviewed her.