To shoot these two monsters on a full moon, like for bullets against werewolves, you need silver-based photography. And don’t bungle it, because Georges Heintz and Rudy Ricciotti never do.
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Yes, I know, there have been some gaps. A couple of weeks without a Wednesday Shot. Like those misfires when your carburetor’s got some junk in it.
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Do you know why dogs sniff everything, all the time? Because they’ve got thirty-five times more scent receptor cells than us. These are veritable sensory neurons.
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Beginning 2016, it’s the question that won’t go away. Where are the women in Angoulême’s prize list, the most renowned comic book festival? None.
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Get ready, get set, GO! And the top models are off – Vroooom! Amidst the whispers of satin and lace, the most beautiful of all creatures stride down the catwalk.
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We’re living the biggest farce ever seen in Brussels. Curfews, the army in the streets, the country has ground to a halt.
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Do not panic. This is war, nothing else. It has often happened and it will happen again. The only way to live without fear is to stop hoping that there will be no more wars.
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For the last couple of years, I’ve distinctly felt a finger pointing at me, like the one of Jacky Ickx, right there in the photo next to my father.
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One cannot recklessly photograph backstage at a Carine Gilson show. Such is the elegance of this haute-couture lingerie that one cannot forget it simply by closing one’s eyes. It follows you, even into the night and adorns your dreams with satin and lace.
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For all of the designer Xavier Lust’s prominence – witness the Botanique’s retrospective devoted to his work – his creative genius seems to me to stem from a strange collaboration.
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The Thalys isn’t just a train for businessmen, city-trippers or clumsy terrorists. It’s a loving transport, taking lovers dreams, joys and pains for a stroll, with its non-stop red rigid comings and goings.
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Jean-Jacques Beineix is a man of real passions and healthy ires. After his eye-opening Diva and Betty Blue, he once again surprises us where we least expect him, treading the boards as he directs Kiki from Montparnasse.
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All Cyclists Are Beautiful. Have you noticed? Not a single ugly girl on a bike. All those chicks that we see riding by have got style, panache, dash.
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Herod’s Salome died in a frozen lake: the ice gave way under her and she fell. Immediately, the ice closed in around her neck, and her head appeared as if on a silver platter.
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The helmsman here is Frédéric Buyle. Freediving champion, with several world records under his belt, but it’s his work as an underwater photographer that has brought him worldwide fame.
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The idea was an audacious one: show the movie Michel Vaillant where it was shot 13 years ago.
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Written for Brigitte Bardot by Roger Vadim, starring Mylène Demongeot, Delon and Belmondo, in black and white, a song by Gainsbourg, and a title that became a catchword of feminist struggle…
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A close friend has just lost his mother, another dear friend her father. Neither of them said a word to me. I hear about it by mere coincidence. What’s going on? Sad news isn’t socially correct anymore?
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Back at the ZAD in Notre-Dame des Landes, for the next step in this photographic work whose sense of urgency has obsessed me for over a year now.
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My old man too lived by images. His media was comic strips –well, graphic novels, as it was more realistic than comic. He never considered himself an artist, but just a storyteller, and an illustrator of the world of motorsports.
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