I met Marie Sophie at night at three.
In the deep darkness of a country road,
she was waiting for us
standing in front of the gate of her home.
Her figure was ethereal, illuminated by the headlights of the car.
Marie Sophie ’s house is exactly liker her,
beautiful and unsettling.
Normally, people choose houses without great imagination
but in Marie Sophie this choice was radical.
A choice of freedom.
In the morning I took a walk with her.
There was a small river. I stopped.
She was wearing a very long shirt, she was barefoot.
She raised her shirt a little and entered the water.
She told me that sometimes she washes herself like this.
During a dinner where she taught me how to make crêpes,
she showed me her collection of Adriano Celentano records.
Marie Sophie has the gift of simplicity, which is the root of her beauty.
A simplicity sharpened like a knife. It cuts and divides.
Marie Sophie lives fashion like a punk lives the city: a mix of resigned need
and desire to stay in it to be happy not to be part of it.
Marie Sophie pulls out the knife and separates fashion’s past and present:
there is no more imagination, no courage now
Photographing Marie Sophie is something special.
Marie Sophie is not a model.
She’s the one who shapes the space, the relationship
Photography itself becomes the model.
When you frame Marie Sophie in the camera lens
you have this odd sort of paradox: there is never a moment exactly when to shoot.
The relationship with time jams.
I leave Marie Sophie with the image
of her in the water, with her dogs on the shore,
Protective and slightly restless.
She loves them. She dedicates her life to them.
For a moment she’s hidden from view.
Time stands still.
And here is the shot.