In the course of a few hours, we let our eyes slide over horizons, colors, shapes and ideas to collectively create a tale, a made-up story represented by photos of true stories. We look for harmony within this dissonance.

Make no mistake: this little game is only a simulacrum of editing, a little poem made of bits and pieces. Each photograph is a door which opens up dozens of universes explored by the photographers. It is a travesty, as these photos do not link to each other in any way except the ones we apply to them. Their connection is a fabricated fiction.

To edit work is the opposite. We weave and create our photographic truth, made up of our intimacy, conviction, and everything else that shapes our vision. It’s the only chance we have to confront our images face-to-face, to unravel the phrase “there will be blood on the floor tonight.” It is our chance to sync our intentions and imagination with our images. This succession of decisions surpasses the act of “taking” a photograph.

Erik Kessel’s installation at FOAM illustrates this flow perfectly: visitors could literally dive into a mountain of printed photographs that represented the entire daily production posted and shared on social media.

As a result, we have to protect and maintain this exercise of ethics and nurture a certain brutality towards our own work. This is the exact opposite of this continuous flow, and one of the most powerful tools that we can use to create our greatest photographic works. Editing is what allows us to dream.

Bénédicte Kurzen / NOOR

Editors’ Note: See the full issue of Previously on Hans Lucas #15 on the publication’s dedicated webpage. We have featured previews of the last few issues on LensCulture—discover the whole series.