François-Marie Banier

Sometimes I wrap gauze dipped in chamomile around my eyes to soothe them during a heat wave. Beneath my eyelids I see a stream of initials, faces, countries, verses by absent poets, and mountain profiles. Beneath the gauze life goes on, like the pain of an amputated foot that continues to throb. I browse the stations of François-Marie Banier’s journey and rediscover the same landscape of visions, although his are unbound and set on film. [...] Excerpt from the text Against the wall by Erri de Luca   It should be possible to make a film based on François-Marie’s photos. We’d use the same people as he does, we’d set them to work, we’d frame them in the same way, just like in the movies, and the viewer would always be wondering what’s going on just out of the shot. But a film like that would be impossible to make, because we’d need his special skill, his tender and affectionate boorishness, his apparent insensitivity towards the people he photographs. His photos are like him: tough they may be, but they always reflect a spirit that is childlike, profound, quick-tempered and rebellious. Though angry at the world, they love it like crazy. They love looking at the world and all the people – all the bodies – that can be encountered in it. They have such energy, and there’s a sense of refusal to give in. Even in decrepitude, old age is vibrant and full of life. [...] Excerpt from the text Wounded, by Patrice Chéreau