ABOUT

My name is Christophe Perquin, a 33-year-old French photographer. I grew up on the shores of the Mediterranean, in the city of Menton, in southeastern France. For as long as I can remember, I have always been fascinated by the colors of these Mediterranean landscapes: the intense and luminous blue of the Mediterranean Sea, the bright and deep blue of the sunny sky, the green of the pine and cypress forests, the golden yellow of dry grass under the sun, the dark red of the clayey soils of the region, the orange hues of tiled roofs, the purple of lavender fields, and the fuchsia pink of bougainvillea flowers.

Over the past four years, I have been exploring the disparities between what I felt and what I wanted to feel, between what I wrote in the book of my life and what I wanted to read, which led to a desire to embark on an artistic approach around the image. My first steps in photography began with countless photos … Not knowing where to start, I used my smartphone to take some videos and then edited short sequences for personal use. But, always demanding more quality in what I wanted to produce, I quickly realized that video required teamwork, while photography allowed for a more solitary and introspective approach. I switched from 24 frames per second to a slower format of 24 frames per hour, sometimes 24 per day, or even just 24 per month.

In contrast to the 'faster and faster' society in which we hypnotize ourselves, photography brings me back to the present moment, to the state of waiting and patience. This waiting has become a refuge for me, a source of simultaneous excitement and relaxation. Taking the photo is not the most exciting part; what matters is the act of searching, discovering a place, a situation, and waiting, giving enough time for the passing time to bring out the most beautiful: a snapshot turned eternal. Through this presentation of my work, I invite you to feel calm, appreciate the present moment that photography brings, and understand the importance of patience in this art form. Patience, I've learned, is not just a virtue but a key to creating something incredible.

My learning of photography has taken various paths. I first took a course taught by Pierre T. Lambert, a travel and adventure photographer who has built a solid online community. His approach to storytelling through images has greatly influenced my work. I also nourished my imagination with the work of many contemporary photographers, such as Steve McCurry, Raymond Depardon, and Martin Parr, to name a few. McCurry's ability to capture the human condition, Depardon's focus on the every day, and Parr's satirical take on modern life have all left a mark on my artistic vision. Everything else is just observation; I learn daily to shape my gaze in the great museum of life.

I like to define my photographic style as documentary photography. My intention, when I go out with my camera around my neck, is to capture a moment in people's lives that I identify as subjects of photography, to look at their gestures, their way of being, their emotions, their environment, their habitat, their relationships with others. There is something beautiful in all the banalities of life. Every moment can evoke feelings, from joy to sadness, fear to surprise, curiosity to boredom. My work is to transform these feelings into art, to show the beauty in the every day, and to inspire you, the viewer, to appreciate the world around you.

In my interactions with others, I often feel plagued by shyness. It goes back about ten years, from when I started my studies to when I was in the "adult world." I don't think I was any shyer before; I don't have any vivid memories of it. It's something that still follows me today. Photography has this dual facet that I find fascinating: you have to both fade away to take the most beautiful shots because it's when people forget you're there that their soul can reveal itself in front of the lens, and at the same time, dare to intrude into people's lives to see and understand. Robert Capa said, "If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough." I have noticed with astonishment that the lenses that make up the 35mm lens of my camera filter light and this shyness, that a sophisticated digital camera not only processes the image but also my emotions. With this tool in my hands, I feel like I'm finally capable of everything: addressing the mother and her child, the farmer struggling with his cattle, and the drunkard lying on a corner of the sidewalk. Every conversation now seems possible to me without needing to make sense. I'm overzealous because there are still many moments when I think, "You should have gone, confronted yourself, and taken that photo." But what photographer can say they've never missed the opportunity to take a beautiful photo?

From a technical point of view, I make do with very little. I don't work surrounded by a team. I like to cultivate this solitude behind the camera and choose freedom in what I undertake. So what if the light isn't ideal, the model doesn't pose, or if there's a flaw in the scenery? I'm not aiming for productivity at all costs; I enjoy producing a few beautiful images. I work exclusively with a 35mm focal length; it allows me to do what I love and forces me to rigorously frame my photos and position myself relatively to the subject. The 35 mm focal length, with its natural perspective and versatility, enables me to capture the essence of the moment and the subject. It requires getting closer, entering the subject's field of vision, and, most importantly, engaging in an exchange that brings life to the image.

My goal is not to reinvent an almost two-century-old art. It's been a journey for me to understand that my role is not to innovate but to be moved and to move you. With my camera, I want to show you the beauty of our differences and tell you how important it is to unite in a world where many things seem to divide us. I want you to feel connected, feel part of a larger community, and understand the power of photography in bringing people together.