The photographer was nostalgic for the snow of his childhood, which surrounded him in his corner of the world, but here the snow has become a white cancer: it doesn’t cover the ground, but consumes it. The silence is oppressive.
The photographer seldom uses a fast exposure to capture a movement or a journey. More often, he leaves the camera open for a long time, so that the silence impregnates the film. Stillness needs time to rise to the surface. Stillness is the state of grace of a messianic moment, not the exaltation of an arrival, but the end of a journey.
One of the recent photographs amounts to a portrait of our time, the face of a woman with lips parted as if to kiss nothingness, inverted in a reflection. She addresses herself to a point irredeemably separate from her. This is the East, looking to the West. It’s the most silent look of the whole series, offering and demanding salvation, and creating a silence in those who look at it.
— Extracted from a preface by Erri de Luca for the book Transsibériades. Read this in the original French here.