Suspended Time
My work questions photography in its dual status as both a survivor and a material, capable of bearing the visible marks of its transformation. Far from being a faithful transcription of reality, it explores what the image preserves, erases, or allows to return in other forms. Each glass plate used becomes a fragile space, marked by time and its alterations. Scratches, cracks, dust, and erasures are not accidents, but traces of lives, gestures, and buried memories. These marks, both wounds and revelations, constitute the texture of the medium: they bear witness to what has passed through the sensitive surface, to what persists despite disappearance. The work thus takes the form of a palimpsest in which absence and presence, memories and forgetfulness are interwoven.
The stereoscopic photographs at the source of my research belong to the vernacular domain: ordinary, often anonymous images from intimate or family contexts. Designed to be viewed twice using a viewer, these small glass rectangles mobilized binocular vision to restore a disturbing depth. Chosen not for their aesthetic value but for their emotional charge, they were not intended for art but for family transmission. Collecting them is a way of prolonging their existence and giving them a new appearance, where the intimate meets the collective.
My gesture is not to intervene on the plates, but to bring them together to orchestrate an encounter between several times. This process, without addition or alteration, is based solely on connecting the layers between them. In this fragile space, light is no longer a simple instrument of vision, but an agent of metamorphosis. As it passes through the glass, light becomes a silent revealer: it illuminates what remains, awakens what is fading, and brings out what persists in the background in this state of in-between: neither totally present nor completely absent. It passes through the layers of the past, making the boundary of time porous and inscribing the image in a shifting temporality, made up of returns, hauntings, and reappearances.
This depth of vision naturally extended from glass to fabric, following the same logic of translucency and poetic medium. The photographs resulting from these encounters are now reproduced on fine silk organza veils suspended from the ceiling, offering new resonances. This noble and natural texture thus explores the fragile continuity between the visible and the invisible, between transparent glass and fabric, forming a floating architecture of memory. The viewer is invited to wander among them, to pass through them as one passes through a memory, to feel their imperceptible movement in the air and the vibrant fragility of what survives. The body then becomes a sensitive plate, traversed and inhabited by reminiscences.
Each work can stand alone, but their accumulation composes a visual labyrinth, a space of resonance where the gaze is lost and found again. This arrangement invites a slow, meditative experience, where vernacular fragments weave a collective history made of echoes and survivals. To look at these works is to accept an uncertain vision, traversed by shadows, reflections, and transparencies, where representation becomes vibration, between appearance and disappearance. We then experience the sensation of crossing their surface, of entering a space suspended between the real and the imaginary.
The installation Temps suspendu offers a physical experience of memory. It reminds us that photography is never just what it shows, but also what it has gone through: a vulnerable, expressive material, inhabited by time. What fades away never completely disappears, but continues to haunt the light. Between memory and transparency, the allegory becomes breath, veil, and vibration: a poetics of fragility, where beauty is revealed in the trembling of the visible.
