{"id":99886,"date":"2006-02-02T12:52:08","date_gmt":"2006-02-02T11:52:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lesaint.abvent.com\/serie\/carnets-2006\/"},"modified":"2021-03-16T14:08:10","modified_gmt":"2021-03-16T13:08:10","slug":"notebooks-2006","status":"publish","type":"serie","link":"https:\/\/agencevu.com\/en\/serie\/notebooks-2006\/","title":{"rendered":"Notebooks, 2006"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Series<\/a><\/p>\n

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Notebooks, 2006<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/section>\n

Vincent Migeat<\/a><\/h5>\n<\/div><\/section>\n

A state of mind. A way to travel too. Walking this strange little black box in our steps and feeding it with light. It\u2019s the road notebook, Moleskine, this little nothing, in which we write everything: our observations, seated on a low wall, against a tree, or back to a wall. Words are scribbled fatly, no work on the sentence, just sketched. Picture-Words. We need to go fast, not losing anything. Everything will be organized later, once we\u2019re back. Photographic notebooks observe the same rules. Its a matter of taking hold of, sometimes by guesswork, moments, scenes, places, with the idea of doing something with it, but later. The notebook has no terms of reference. It\u2019s the anti-story. The complete freedom. What do we seek? The answer will come later. If it was dared to do a comparison, it would be free-jazz, improvisation. Carefully handling fates, let them room. So, the photographer become a fisherman, he doesn\u2019t count his time anymore, he\u2019s observing.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/section><\/div>

He\u2019s waiting for a picture, this funny stuff that he can\u2019t define. Moreover, he felt it more than he sees it. Views are all linked and the light is turned down, soon it will be night. It will be time to come back. I can\u2019t imagine another way to \u201cwork\u201d during a trip. Any way, it\u2019s useless to try to understand everything. So, we need to take. Taking as long as we\u2019re here. It will be time later to understand, when we will see our pictures harvest. Once shot, pictures are captive. At least, that\u2019s what we believe in. Until that day when it reveals us more and more surprise and discovers. Sometimes, it finishes to organize itself, to reply each other, it wants to form a whole. Well, that\u2019s what we imagine. At this moment, words can come in. Leaning on pictures, they find again fresh blood, and memory wakes up again. Such detail in the picture wakes up such a memory that we thought vanished. Then, we can write.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/section><\/div>

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