Hi everyone. Here are 12 guys I photographed in 2009 in the north of France, with my old SX10 Canon. No retouch at all, but reframing. I’m an amateur!
By doing this, I realized something.
Insects photography has always been a pleasure for me. It’s really like staying a child. It’s a “Oh, look!” non-professional state of mind I really like to live. It’s like sparkling jungle life in a modest little nature (no danger, no tropical proliferation here) near the sea. Gardens. Woods. These little persons are living their life…
Thanks for reading/watching!
Some words have a power.
Therefore, because they have a form of newness, foreign words can have a very strong power. For me, for example, the world BETRAYAL is almost diabolical. It frightens me! Betrayal. It sounds like – maybe because of Belial? – the essence of the Devil. Who we call in France : Le Diable. Brrrr…
“Spider” sounds very innocent – is it? I think of spiderman, or of a little spider, an harmless one. I wonder what it is for English speakers… The French word for this fascinating animal is ARAIGNÉE.
For a French, the word ARAIGNÉE is horrible when you examine (and hear) it. You immediately see a frightening dangerous horrible spider. You don’t laugh anymore. You feel the chill along your backbone… It’s not cute at all. At all! And, oh, sorry, it’s feminine…
This word, araignée, is like containing the essence of it all. It’s haunted. You feel the creepyness of it, just with the sound : araignée. It’s awful, complex, vicious, archetypically incomprehensible…
Have you met someone like une araignée one day? What happened? Did you survive? Did she trapcatch you? Was she haunted by death or a curse? How come you realized she was one? A web? Dead eyes? Some weird skill? What was her venom made of? Did you sicksleep, or die slowly, or lose all reason? Did she have bored slaves (like the flies on the first picture)?
What are other terrible words? Why? Why are some words so charged?
Yes, yes : their buttonlike many eyes… Brrrr…
This eight-eyed cute little guy was surprised to see me watching him. “Hey, gentle giant, what do you want?”. Awweeee!
Weaved and white
like left on the black carpet
in an oblique ray of asleep light
There was an inner movement
a silken ripping
a fine breathe in the twilight tranquility
The spider has spread the cocoon
Her translucent legs slowly unfolded
Quivering like one hand of a dying woman
She opened her eyes
One by one
Revealing eight pearls black and rooted
Then she breathed the night.
Ichtya was born.
(pictures taken by me)