Films
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Photos
Artwork

France, 2020, 8 min, mobile phone
Soleil déteint is an 8-minute film about a world that's burning and a sun that's shining. It is an epic solar poem, an epistolary polemic, a viral video about a pandemic that no one will ever see.
Soleil déteint is an 8-minute film about a world that's burning and a sun that's shining. It is an epic solar poem, an epistolary polemic, a viral video about a pandemic that no one will ever see.
France, 2019, 7 min, mobile phone
L’outremer is another poem filmed with my phone. It is diurnal, coastal, it advances on the rocks, facing the sea, it hurts the eyes, it is all sun, all waves, all sand.
L’outremer is another poem filmed with my phone. It is diurnal, coastal, it advances on the rocks, facing the sea, it hurts the eyes, it is all sun, all waves, all sand.

Switzerland, 2016, 13 min, mobile phone
At the end of his life, before lying down a last time in the snow, Robert Walser, Swiss writer at the margins of academic litterature, compiled on various found carboards what has been called his microgrammes : shorts texts written in a microscopic way in a langage we long time thought was indecipherable. This film, shot with an old mobile phone, is an experimental biopic of Walser, a tribute to microgrammes, an ode to poor cinema and the minuscule poetry of things.
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At the end of his life, before lying down a last time in the snow, Robert Walser, Swiss writer at the margins of academic litterature, compiled on various found carboards what has been called his microgrammes : shorts texts written in a microscopic way in a langage we long time thought was indecipherable. This film, shot with an old mobile phone, is an experimental biopic of Walser, a tribute to microgrammes, an ode to poor cinema and the minuscule poetry of things.

2015, New Zealand, 6 min, mobile phone
A filmed letter, shot with a mobile phone, sent from New Zealand to "my lost bird".
A filmed letter, shot with a mobile phone, sent from New Zealand to "my lost bird".
Photos
Ireland, 2018-2020
In Hibernia, there is a bit of life slipping away in the air, and it is just enough time to grab my camera and capture a ghost. If the sheep falls down the hill, if the wallpaper peels off the wall, something of a world is falling apart here. Everything seems to be in a state of hibernation, which is probably why Hibernia is the ancient name for Ireland.
In Hibernia, there is a bit of life slipping away in the air, and it is just enough time to grab my camera and capture a ghost. If the sheep falls down the hill, if the wallpaper peels off the wall, something of a world is falling apart here. Everything seems to be in a state of hibernation, which is probably why Hibernia is the ancient name for Ireland.
France, 2019-2021
A few months ago, I bought for peanuts a box of film rolls in a second hand shop in the town of Calais. The whole thing being expired for twelve years was starting to be corroded by rust. So that nothing get lost, I've spent two summers on the Carnot breakwater a long concrete-jetty of almost three kilometers overhanging the sea, located between the towns of Le Portel and Boulogne-sur-mer (in the North of France). I've photographed with a camera found on a local charity shop and then processed the films at home, mixing them with a bit of sea water. The result is this combination of walls of sea and humans of sand.
A few months ago, I bought for peanuts a box of film rolls in a second hand shop in the town of Calais. The whole thing being expired for twelve years was starting to be corroded by rust. So that nothing get lost, I've spent two summers on the Carnot breakwater a long concrete-jetty of almost three kilometers overhanging the sea, located between the towns of Le Portel and Boulogne-sur-mer (in the North of France). I've photographed with a camera found on a local charity shop and then processed the films at home, mixing them with a bit of sea water. The result is this combination of walls of sea and humans of sand.

France, 2017-2020
Lin Ying Qin is my neighbour. I live at 115, she lives at 111. Every day, I pass her on the threshold of her building. She wears very fine trousers with flowers that her mother brings her back from the Chinese market. She’s never cold, never hot, she’s never hungry. Ying Qin loves Mister Freeze, very sweet coffees and Tropico cans. What I know about her, I learn slowly through her laughter and our clumsy discussions.
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Lin Ying Qin is my neighbour. I live at 115, she lives at 111. Every day, I pass her on the threshold of her building. She wears very fine trousers with flowers that her mother brings her back from the Chinese market. She’s never cold, never hot, she’s never hungry. Ying Qin loves Mister Freeze, very sweet coffees and Tropico cans. What I know about her, I learn slowly through her laughter and our clumsy discussions.

Europa, 2015-2018
Recently, “floaters” have appeared in my eyes: spots, dots and lines, like dust moving with my gaze. My mobile phone, a twelve-year-old Sony Ericsson w810i, has “dead pixels” on the lens that mark the images with more or less pronounced spots. Together, we make these lo-fi images, fantasized landscapes, self-portraits as a traveller, tiny flashes of time, like so many notes, taken on the fly, on our mutual ageing.
Recently, “floaters” have appeared in my eyes: spots, dots and lines, like dust moving with my gaze. My mobile phone, a twelve-year-old Sony Ericsson w810i, has “dead pixels” on the lens that mark the images with more or less pronounced spots. Together, we make these lo-fi images, fantasized landscapes, self-portraits as a traveller, tiny flashes of time, like so many notes, taken on the fly, on our mutual ageing.
Artwork