Thank you for participating in this interview, Julien. To begin, could you tell us a little about yourself and your first experience with photography? What made you want to become a photographer?

I’m not quite sure, but maybe it’s the urge to share stories? That seems to fit. Photography wasn’t a big part of my family life. When I was around 10, my grandmother passed down her camera to me. I still have a few memories of snapping pictures in the late ’80s, skateboarding with a friend in our village in the French countryside. I also recall how my grandmother collected old postcards created in the early 20th century by a great-uncle of mine—an eccentric priest who traveled through mountain landscapes capturing images of animals, farmers, peasant women, and the beautiful scenery. These days, I’ve taken over his collection.

Are you mostly self-taught, or did you take any classes or hands-on photography seminars along the way?

Actually, I used to be a nurse before I became a photographer, and I still manage to do both jobs at the same time. I received formal training for nursing, while I taught myself photography. It’s a balance that works for me. The two fields are quite different, and I notice very few similarities between them. I picked up photography by reading books, honing my observation skills, and engaging in a steady, methodical exploration of the craft.

Do you shoot exclusively on film, or do you also incorporate digital methods? If you use film, what is your specific workflow for developing the negatives? Do you process your own film manually? Do you create physical enlargements in a darkroom?

My personal work—which consists of long-term projects that I’ve been developing over several years, all of which have led to book publications—primarily revolves around film photography. I typically use a medium format camera and Kodak Portra film for vibrant colors. A lab takes care of developing my film, and I always find joy in scanning it. For some projects, I explore different aesthetics that help convey the message I want to share. For instance, while researching the return of the wolf to the Massif Central and delving into the lives of farmers and the diverse wildlife encountered near forests, I utilized a camera trap. I then transformed those images into cyanotypes, a technique I’ve recently started to explore, to capture the nocturnal essence of that work. Last year, while working on a project in the Landes-de-Gascogne—far from my usual surroundings—I focused on the impact of major forest fires and our relationship with a scarred landscape. For this, I created a significant portion of my work using an old view camera, reminiscent of the one my great-uncle, a mountain priest, used in the previous century. I loaded the film holders with photosensitive paper, intentionally overexposing it, and developed the images at home. Nowadays, I primarily rely on digital tools for commissions from the press or private institutions.

What profound role does capturing images play in your journey?

A way to express oneself. A style of writing. A decision. The best method to grasp the concept of light.

What are the core elements and themes that run through your photography?

Maybe a narrative style? I always find myself returning to my one true passion: sharing stories.

Could you share some details about the series L’Aval?

It all began somewhat by chance in 2016 when I was taking a stroll in the woods near my home. It was a foggy day, and I had my Yashica Mat 124 loaded with expired Kodak Portra NC film. I found the results to be incredibly beautiful, which sparked thoughts about the depths of the forest. It felt like I was diving into the heart of nature. From that point on, I continued to photograph within a small area of my personal geography. Fast forward to 2023, when Origini Editions reached out to collaborate. I suggested “L’Aval,” which was still in its early stages at the time, and the book project allowed me to further develop it. “L’Aval” translates to what lies beneath—beyond the threshold of my home. When I climb over the first fence, I dash across the meadow to the edge of the woods, wandering through the foliage until I reach the river, a dam. There’s a massive concrete tunnel that cuts through part of the hillside, and I squeeze through the wire fencing blocking access. It’s a journey through both a contained part of the landscape and through time. As a kid, I would come here, climb a small cliff, and leap into the dark water, always under the watchful eyes of our girlfriends. This spot also holds memories of my first adolescent feelings. Though the river water has flowed away, the memories remain. I continued to capture images of the woods and my children, using an old view camera to create double exposures that blend their faces with the ferns, intertwining our lives with nature. I also began counting my steps, creating a mental map of the places I cherish. The book reflects this journey, showcasing meticulous attention to paper choice and the delicate craftsmanship that this publishing house is known for!

A lot of your images are quite intriguing. Is your work meant to encourage exploration of mystery rather than just presenting facts?

I wasn’t aware of that, and I can’t really comment on it. I usually begin with what you might call “a straightforward presentation of facts,” and then, by diving deeper into a topic, I tend to uncover some hidden layers. However, I’m not entirely certain if that’s fully intentional on my part. I believe it comes from a long and thoughtful exploration.

Could you share the story behind your “Oreille Coupée” series? What were your initial goals for this project? What methods did you employ? Did you happen to use camera traps for any of the images?

A few years back, I read a short article in the local press about a male wolf that had made its home in the forests of my childhood. I was amazed by this news, especially since the wolf had been absent from our countryside for over a century. I never thought I’d see its return. Interestingly, this coincided with the arrival of my third child, a little boy, and these two events inspired me to share the story of “Oreille Coupée.”

I spent some time at the Departmental Archives, digging through files that documented how wolves were exterminated in France. I stumbled upon some captivating texts, especially those written by doctors during rabid animal attacks—literature that was both beautiful and tragic, helping me grasp the roots of our fear of wolves.

For three years, I worked on photographing forests, farmers, and animals. However, I wouldn’t call myself a wildlife photographer. I lack the patience for stalking and waiting in hides, so I opted for a more laid-back approach using camera traps attached to trees. This way, I only had to focus on the framing; the animals essentially took the pictures for me.

From the images I gathered, I created cyanotypes. I loved the idea of emphasizing a process where the trace is key. The negatives left an imprint on the paper, which I didn’t rinse (as is usually done with cyanotypes), and after scanning, I allowed them to fade into the darkness of a small sewing cabinet. This reminded me of wild animal tracks disappearing into the humus. It’s a project about life and how animals, including ourselves, come and go, interact, clash, and ultimately vanish.

Above: a selection from L’Aval. Below: a selection from Oreille Coupee

Do you put together your own photo stories, or do you work alongside a publisher or curator to shape the sequence?

It really depends on how they’re going to be used. I’m lucky to have a publisher who truly understands my work and has been supportive for many years. We collaborate closely on our books. It’s with his guidance that I’ve learned to make choices and grasp the art of storytelling. For several years, I focused on photography, writing, and reflection, developing a foundation from which we could identify what resonates and stands out. When it comes to an exhibition, the process is quite different. We present a much smaller selection of the overall photographic work, and the text aspect is minimal. We need to find a narrative thread or sequence, as you mentioned. Plus, exhibition design has become much more intricate in recent years, which is really exciting!

Some of your work reminds us of pictorialism. Could you share more about that?

It wasn’t really my intention. If there’s a pictorial quality to my photography, it’s likely due to the tools I use. An image is closely connected to the object that produced it.

Your work frequently highlights the relationship between humanity and the earth. Do you view nature as a passive backdrop, an active participant, or a reflection of our inner thoughts?

It’s likely a mix of everything. The forest and nature have always been the backdrop of my childhood and continue to shape my life. They provide sanctuary for countless living beings, and in that way, I feel deeply connected to them. I truly belong to the earth; I influence it just as much as it influences me. I often find myself wanting to go there to escape and just be. This perspective might be a bit romanticized, probably influenced by the travelogues I read in my youth from earlier centuries.

You’ve published an impressive number of books! Would you mind sharing your publishing experience, including any challenges you’ve faced? Have you ever tried self-publishing? Do you have plans to publish more in the future?

I’ve published nearly all of my books with the same publisher, Éditions Lamaindonne. I have a great relationship with David Fourré, who really understands me and my work. We’ve both grown and learned together over the years. I’ve never felt the need to self-publish because my publisher has always been there to support me from the start of my journey. We trust each other completely, and David has become not just my publisher but also an artistic advisor. For my other works, Origini published “L’Aval,” and I released a novel with Filigrane after an artist residency at Zone I, which is a space focused on the arts and the environment.

You have an impressive portfolio of exhibitions, both solo and group. Could you share your approach to handling calls for submissions, galleries, and publishers?

I’m not a young photographer; I’m 50 years old. I can’t say I have a long list of exhibitions, but I’ve been lucky to have photography venues that supported me when my books were published, which allowed me to create exhibitions that I can now tour. I don’t typically work with galleries and respond to calls for submissions when it feels right. However, I try not to spend too much time on that, as it’s tough to see a project you’ve worked hard on not resonate. It’s a challenge that many photographers and artists face, being so influenced by the preferences of others; our freedom often feels quite limited.

What tips do you have for young photographers or artists looking to start their journey in photography?

I’m not really into giving advice. Just a moment ago, I was reading a book by a French author who took his own life in the 1980s, titled “Promise at Dawn” by Romain Gary. He wrote, “Truth dies young. What old age has ‘learned’ is in reality all that it has forgotten (…).”

Thank you for sharing your insights with us today. It was a pleasure getting to know you better.

My pleasure!

All Images © Julien Coquentin

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