My work has a particular status, half way between painting and photography: I have named it “paintography”.

It is based on the “black mirror” device - or more precisely “black ink mirror”- I try to catch the reflection which may appear on a stain of either ink or bright black paint or any other glossy surface such as oil, honey or treacle or even Marmite … ( is it a  blotch, a patch ,a stain or just a painted shape ? )

The stain acts as a “subjective” (I refer to the film-maker Patrick Bokanowski ‘s definition ) ,as opposed to the “objective” ,or lens,  of the camera . It catches reality (real life) and filters it in a deforming and highly personal way.

This device enables endless combination about the meeting, either accidental or premeditated, between the painted shape and a reflected “object”.

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In fact, as I am about to take the photograph, I can’t see much, only black inside the stain; hardly anything.

Fortunately, my camera sees more than I do: I adjust the aperture until I catch the sight of the reflected image in the black paint.

We could think it is only a matter of what we are used to seeing : for example  a window is easier to make out  than what its pane  reflects or the round shape of the chrome hub cap is more obviously visible  than what can be seen  inside its reflect.

But it is also a matter of aperture, of adapting to the light of the reflection into the black mirror. The human eye is in a way dazzled by the white background and can only see black in the stain. On the opposite, the camera can adapt and see.

It is as if it was able to reveal a latent vision which was invisible to the human eye.

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It is profoundly exhilarating to discover this hidden vision because it is somewhat impossible, miraculous, frail and fleeting.

On a bright sunny day, I went into a wheat-field with my paintographic equipment.  The wheat was green, scattered with plenty of poppies.

On a white sheet of paper, in one stroke, I spread the black gloss paint which began to run down slowly.

I never prepare my stains in advance because the paint becomes mat when it dries and loses its gloss and I think it is most important to seize the meeting point of the stain with its motive, on the spot.

My eyes could only see a black stain on white paper: but when I looked into the eyepiece I saw what the camera saw, I shouted out my joy in the middle of poppies.

Translation by Sylvie Bodeux