Guillaume,
Where do I start?
What shall I write to you about?
I’m trying to remember our last time together and I can’t.
Is everything meant to fade away too fast and too soon?
What do you remember from your life?
You came and went so fast.
It makes me wonder if there is any point dreaming about the future when you can be gone tomorrow.
And shouldn't we just be living day by day because we never know.
I hope you did live and dream.
You seemed so lost in your thoughts, so distant.
I often wondered what was in your mind.
You once said you wished you had my green eyes.
I never understood why.
How come I remember so little about us, but this I do?
Where is the garden with all my dreams? The key to my subconscious?
Is it in the photos I’m taking?
I still have this one of you.
I took it on a chairlift.
I wasn’t even thinking about becoming a photographer at the time.
I just took it.
And yet it says so much.
Your eyes are closed.
You’re away.
Maybe you are dreaming.
Alone, in silence is a project for my brother Guillaume, who died accidentally when he was 22. Seventeen years later, I went to drive alone across the American West. Confronting the region’s brutal winter conditions, I engaged with my emotions and childhood memories. In the silence and vast emptiness of those landscapes, I saw manifestations of the sadness and solitude I feel inside.
Silver Gelatin prints
