Imperfect Me

The idea that photography can be valued based on sharpness is not working with me.

What should I tell you? I love my imperfect photography. Of course I'm biased but that doesn't mean I'm not hard on myself. But I am aware that I am constantly moving by walking on a rope. I'm still making a lot of mistakes, but these mistakes come from not really wanting to lay down where it would be more comfortable and easy. And then welcome to the blurry photos, moved, the unmanageable ones, to be thrown away, perhaps even to be forgotten.

It happens that a photographic day is a new adventure, almost as if you don't know what the result is. So it becomes an experiment. Yes, a constant experiment, a running test in which I rely on the moment and perhaps even on the gods. I find myself playing with myself, with that out of focus pawing for domination, like a tempting devil or just plain bastard.

I find myself observing the result, then managing it in my studio, trying to retrace the dimensions of my photograph when I was there and recognized a scene, shooting with impetus and instinct. Imperfect scenes of one who prefers the imperfection of the human being over the seduction of the instrument.