Working on my Brutalism Architecture series in Warsaw...

I just returned from Warsaw, Poland. I arrived late, but the work was not finished yet. The films had to be developed immediately. Early in the morning I made the first test prints, and by the evening the two final prints were ready. My curiosity is always pushing me.

Photography is my passion, my pain, my dedication — simply my way of life. What fascinates me again and again is how photography connects me with people, how it opens unexpected doors, and how much it teaches and shapes me along the way. If you truly live it, it becomes something much bigger than taking pictures. I love that! It’s gives energy (and sometimes a lot of frustrations).

This photograph is part of my Brutalism series, which now consists of about 12 plates. I hope to complete the series by April. There is already a request for the full set, and a gallery is considering exhibiting the series at Paris Photo in November — so I better finish it well.

The series began years ago with a building I photographed in Hong Kong, where I was fascinated by the architect’s vision and the power of the structure. Now I have just returned from Poland, standing in front of two new prints and have to decide which one of the two will become part of the series. Any suggestions??

For this photograph I had to ask one apartment to remove their satellite dish and another to take down an old television antenna. Perhaps I am too much of a perfectionist, but those small elements disturbed the rhythm and geometry of the façade.

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Long hours alone in the car give you time to think.I found myself thinking about photography.About galleries.About artists.And about what we are all chasing

We often dream of the lives of Picasso, Modigliani, and Cézanne—modern masters who seemed to breathe art. In their time, and partly through them, the gallery world in Paris blossomed. By the 1930s one street alone boasted more than twenty galleries; Paris likely had dozens, perhaps over a hundred. In many ways the modern system of galleries and collectors was born in that era. Their success—and the prices their works achieve today—have become a benchmark we still chase.

But when we speak about their dedication or their obsession, we often romanticize it. What it really meant was sacrifice. They gave up stability, security, and comfort. Many lived in poverty. Relationships suffered. Their entire life revolved around one thing: making art. There was no safety net, no backup plan, no parallel career. Art was not something they did—it was the only thing they could do.

Today we live in a world of 8.2 billion people. Paris alone now has more than 2,000 galleries, yet the number is again shrinking (like everywhere in the world). At the same time, the number of artists seems to be exploding. We compare ourselves to those heroes, yet the ecosystem is completely different.

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