Simon Jacques
I have learned that art is essential to survival, that without design, perception, and style, we cannot ingrain our emotional attachment to things we see as important. Without an artistic signature, you cannot preserve fond memories of your own creation. Black-and-white photographs just hit me in a different way. They inspire me to fathom why or how the photo is made. I photograph things in black and white not just for the elegant effect, but because it tells me a story that I can think about. The plainness of this black-and-white photo that I took makes me feel very homey and comfortable. I took a photo of my living room with a tripod mount to balance the level of the ground and my shaky hands, used an 18–55 mm lens to create a perfect balance for the distance and quality of the scene. As I positioned myself, I saw the bright, hazy light just behind my monitor, which added a bit of exposure to the floor. Although it wasn’t intentional, I kept it because I was looking not only for what my eyes could see, but also what I felt about the imbalance of light coming from the scene and from the lamp behind the monitor. Vagueness and mystery are two concepts I attempt to depict while making sure they are not too complex or difficult to see. Seeing Henri Cartier-Bresson's work online, I saw many photographs that feel very similar to what I want my work to evoke. An important lesson to me is how Cartier-Bresson “prowled the streets.” This deepened my interest in black-and-white photography. Why do I take pictures of where I come from? They cultivate my curiosity. I rarely read about photographers, artists, or photojournalists, but I do learn from their work whenever I listen to podcasts or watch videos about history, one of the few subjects that I like to dwell on. I like history, so the pictures I see in books inspire me to take pictures that define what this world can really offer.
Farewell, 2020Blur, 2020