BERNARD FAUCON

THE TIME AFTER

All the photographs have been taken, those that may not have been yet are being taken right now by the millions of lenses that record everything, anonymously, the world over. What is there left for the photographer who has not exhausted his pleasure of seeing? To collect visions, arrange them to build new sensations of seeing…

I “stopped photography” because I was convinced that it was over, that the period of the history of photography I had belonged to, “staged photography”, was the swan song of photography, the last stage before the reign of pure image, digital, commercial. A time when we still believed sufficiently in the power of truth of photography to afford ourselves the luxury of constructing true fictions.

Among the image folders in my computer there is one I have called “The Time After”. There I slip the images borrowed from my friends and all those I take without thinking with the digital, the disposable cameras at hand when a vision imposes itself. From that folder I have drawn the photos most remote from any photographic intentionality, I have only kept what was “seen”, what was “to see”, and I have attempted to brush the backdrop to the world in which I live (I who refuse categorically to be photographed ever again), I travel, in pursuit of what I am, light-years away from my point of origin.