Jeudi 22 juillet 2010 4 22 /07 /Juil /2010 21:21

She takes this photograph on year 1, maybe on month 1. One of the very first photographs. She takes the pictures, she develops the films, she does the prints, and she paints them. Hardly. Just a few grey marks, like a caress on the face & hands of a rock'n roll girl with contrasting fragility. Shades of grey. Shades. She has chosen the girl carefully some day before, a model from some agency. She likes everything : her words and state of mind, her rock'n roll attitude, her white blond hair, her eyes. Her fragile regards. Her contrasting fragility. They have a wonderful time, the shooting takes place outside in one of the main avenues of Tokyo, in front of an old wooden japanese door. They remain ignorant of the dozens of persons passing by around them. They are together. Alone. So close. They meet afterwards, they both love the images, the model wants one painted picture also, the photographer should say no and says yes, probably because of the contrasting fragility. So she paints it, it is the same, it is different. It is happening in 1996. Two images almost the same, like two vibrations of one single instant. The girl makes her think of the replicant in Blade Runner, with an extra touch of humanity.

These days she can look at this picture endlessly, she knows she still loves it, all the same. Nothing changes. She loves her rock'n'roll attitude, her white blond hair, her contrasting fragility. In spite of everything. She remembers her words and mind. Witty. She could photograph the same image with the same girl tomorrow. She tries and remember the name of the girl. She can't remember. They've been so close for a while, for a brief moment they were even alone together. And nevertheless, she can't remember her name. She hung that picture on the wall at a moment when she was wandering how the first photographs looked. Surprisingly enough she realized that some look the same. Everything was already there. Nothing changes. She still loves words, wit, white blond hair, rock'n'roll attitude and contrasting fragility.

Obviously there is a foundation that remains unchanged, and in a way she finds it reassuring. Maybe somebody's having fun up there, but nevertheless there is a first drawing that remains unaltered. After that you may have add-ons and minor alterations. But to cut a long story short : nothing changes. Anyway she cannot even think of changing anybody. A dead end. Not even herself, well, since she met herself. She didn't want to change that girl neither : Don't change anything, you're so genuine, she must have said something like that while shooting. So genuine. Don't change anything. And nevertheless, she can't remember her name. Maybe only the distances change. Closer, further. The distance, the angle, the point of view. The regards. She can't remember her name. They've been alone together. They met a couple of times. Probably a little more. And just like that, they became strangers. Let's not become strangers, that was a meaningfull sentence. Surely about human will. When human will gets involved. Or required. Taking care of. Otherwise everything vanishes. Nothing changes, it just vanishes. A different level of reality. She looks at the picture again, she loves her rock'n roll attitude, her white blond hair, her contrasting fragility. And nevertheless she can't remember her name. A person with no name. Probably what you may call a stranger, and you'd be right to do so. Since just like that, they became strangers.














Par ANNE DENIAU aka ANN RAY - Publié dans : history - 0 Comments - Write a comment
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