l’art «photografrique» (I) – (photos) – (en)

He is not a photographer, but -as he defines himself- he is there for the photography, to combine a professional technique with the genuine joy of the dilettante. A dilettante in its original meaning as the Italian word “dilletaro” or “delight”, hence “the one who practices an art with the passion of a lover”. For the art itself and the pleasure that comes along this photographic art -or, rather in his case, the “photografrica” art.
Alain Paris unceasingly puts this continent on images, and during the last ten years, the major part of his production has been devoted to the Senegal. “Bush studio”, “Seetsi” and “Black Mirages” are various facets of the same passion for a world that both fascinates and moves him for its essence. And so, after a long stay in Africa, Alain Paris might return with only one or two roll-films. In his many trips to the “black” continent, he has captured only few landscapes –“ten, at the very most”-, traditional ceremonies and other “exotic” snapshots. It’s the African people who attract him, being the continent just the wide scenery where his art is best expressed.
Since 1989, Alain Paris has lived locked in his studio shooting his personal view of Africa. Here and there. In his work “Montreuil on the stage” (associated with another photographer), has shaped a surprising kaleidoscope of the African inhabitants of the village of Montreuil. The “Bush Studio” series -realized in medium-format in a daylight studio- shows his attachment to the small village of Kafountine (Casamance). And it was there where he established the first “bush’s photographs school”, in 1989.
His Africa is not the “startling Africa” we are used. It’s neither the Africa of the ethnologists, nor the poets or the journalists. It’s not modern or ancestral, poor or corrupted, infinitely happy or terribly sad. It’s, in its essence, a woman, a mother or a lover. Nude, exotic and sensual. Alain Paris invites us to take a look to the most beautiful and obvious face that Africa has to offer, and nobody else would probably be able to describe it as attractively as he does. A flat belly. The fertile womb of a mother or the tight skin of a dancer. African hands, those of an Ashanti princess of Ghana or a farmer at Diola in Casamance. A nape. An Amazon warrior of Congo or a Parisian top-model. The litheness of the bodies, the openness of a look, the purity of an Africa to which these “Black Mirages”, his last realization, refer.
Alain Paris is not only in love with Africa. Since he has invited Africa into his dark room, he could be considered… his lover.
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Black Mirages (I) – Alain Paris (France, 1955)
Black Mirages (II) – Alain Paris (France, 1955)

About Dugutigui

In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).
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13 Responses to l’art «photografrique» (I) – (photos) – (en)

  1. Robert says:

    Beautiful!

      • Mendi ayah says:

        I am Ayah Mendi a model black, I am of malian origin. Your photos are amazing, your work is beautiful, it sublimates the African woman… If would be an honor for me to pose for you. elviradu_94@hotmail.fr

      • Dugutigui says:

        You are a beautiful model, and I appreciate your comments. But I’m not Alain Paris, who I like very much, and I’m living in Argentina actually. And I’m agreed with you, Paris sublimates the African woman as anybody else I know in this business. Also when you photograph people in color –as I do-, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in black and white, you photograph their souls.

  2. B&W photography is in fact ART. Superbe photos.

  3. You love black women, you… You have a passion…😀
    The photos are fabulous, also very sensual…😆😉

    • Dugutigui says:

      Acute wind flutes
      to violin breezes smoothing concede
      prelude of calm impasse
      for the transgressor moonbeam
      through the arboreal mantle lightening the clear,
      and still down there cries the sinful phantom,
      his graveyard’s colored passion,
      evolution’s taken back,
      only forever darkness to the sons whatever happened,
      sons that never were, sunshine no more in there,
      only the dead passion dancing in the mists of time.
      And he in his ancient reign,
      stirs safe in the baobab arms
      one closed eye, other in the clear
      knowing passion disappears, but still
      you never know
      better observing up from here…

      • You should write poems more often…. Thank you…
        You see, we are all subjective…🙂

        under the dead leaves
        the memory still lingers
        under mature wood
        a fire spark still breathing
        the passion dies when we die

      • Dugutigui says:

        They are time consuming … and otherwise I’m never depressed enough to write quality poetry🙂

  4. 🙂 Sadness flows through my veins… that’s the difference… I am build for feeling more than for anything else…😉
    yes, it consumes time… but it is also beautiful…. just like in life, we love most the things we struggled for, we dream of, we made sacrifices for….
    Thank you, this is for me like trying to talk to me in my language….😀

    • Dugutigui says:

      “She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.”
      J. Safran

      • 🙂 Thank you….
        Well,I am no genius, I am only a fly moving in a chaotic pattern, remember? Or maybe brownian? I have no idea, I am just a blue fly…😉

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