Feet_in_the_water

Feet in the water in the heart of the Prés salés

I don't know if Forrest Gump and Bubba experienced this fine rain in Vietnam. This small rain, fine and light like a cloud which explodes slowly. This fine and light rain that settles delicately on the clothes, on the hair, not daring to get wet except in contact with the hand, with the wrinkling of clothes. Anyway, my 80s trench coat is soaked, my shoes drowned in flooded sand paths. Walking in the wind, I protect my Rolleiflex like a pregnant woman protects her belly. We are on a Sunday morning in February in the heart of the Prés salés between Lège and Arès, in France, trying to translate an idea of ​​an image that I have in mind.

After looking, turning and returning, I find myself not knowing where to start, having finally found a place conducive to my creativity. This place is out of time. No one around and I imagine myself in the past centuries. One, two, three, four back. A painter in search, a cursed poet adrift, a local child deceiving boredom. The sky is overcast, the weather is gloomy. It's a perfect mise en abyme of the feeling that I decided to exploit. Touching my hypersensitivity, I squeeze the shutter button.

Rolleiflex​ T f3,5 75mm Tessar - Kodak 400TX - Red filter Ilford Ilfosol 3 - HD film scans