I’ve decided to collate some photos of the Rivesaltes Project in a book, together with extracts form this blog, sort of to draw the project to a close.
The images to date have been taken in the broad light of day, photos as documents, which barely touch the dark oppressive atmosphere; so I decided to photograph the camp at night, wishing to create more evocative images, aide-memoires of a place forgotten.
The first evening I took my son Louis, as I needed somebody to hold a light to illuminate the huts. Even though it wasn’t quite freezing, the wind was so strong, it hurt. Poor Louis tried his best, but after an hour or so, we gave up.
The following night was much more successful, the wind was calmer and the sky was clear, but oddly, no moon, which would have helped to create some dramatic shadows. No matter, I continued photographing into the early hours.
I returned four more times and worked through the night. What captivated me was the stark vegetation juxtaposed with the ruined huts. I was left with the impression that nobody had been to the camp since the last interns left and was reminded of Louis’ question some time ago made when he last visited the camp with me: “Are there any people here?”. The only clue that anybody had recently visited was the graffiti scrawled over the huts, which I felt was strangely poetic as it was a symbol of the current touching the past.
I think the results will make a stronger body of work than the previous photos and be more descriptive than my abstract video-stills.
