Introduction (1990)When someone asks me my profession, I answer photographer . That is easy to say, not as if I had to announce I am an astrologer , or a tax inspector . It is, however, less simple than to say a sculptor or a plumber . It seems to me, each time, that I should be more specific and add something like but a photographer is not what you imagine or but what is understood by photography has to be defined .Of course, I dont add anything. That would be useless: people think they know, they all take photos (or let themselves be taken in photos). When they talk about it, its to say If you take ten rolls of film, there will automatically be one good photo , or I took exactly the same photo as you, on the Brooklyn Bridge, only without that person on the railing. (a comment reported by douard Boubat). Theorists of photography write things like The act of photography does not so much consist in seeing as in having been there (Roland Barthes) or There is no such thing as a bad photograph- only less interesting, less relevant, less mysterious ones (Susan Sontag).For a photographer, such propositions are absurd. Our daily experience shows us that to press a button is not enough to assure that what was in front of the camera ends up inside it. And even if one believes that he has captured it, one doesnt necessarily have a good photo. A good photo is a rare thing, almost miraculous, and even the bestamong us only succeed a few dozen (or a few hundred) times in their lifetime. How can thinkers such as Barthes and Sontag see it as no more than the by-product of a technical process?We feel misunderstood. Sometimes that irritates us, other times that gives us a sort of satisfaction, as if we were the holders of a secret, the members of a sect. We recognize our fellows from far off, even when they dont carry a camera, simply because of the way they let their eyes wander, and move on padded feet, like cats stalking. I remember an outing on the slopes of Etna, in the car of a fellow photographer whom I hardly knew. His hesitations in the turns, his lightly touching the brakes at the sight of a tree or a rock filled me with joy: we were two, looking at things in the same way.Perhaps it is the same for plumbers and tax inspectors. Or maybe not: the photographers solitude may be a case apart, since the photographer is essentially alone while looking through the viewfinder and making the decision to press the shutter release. Of course, the result of his search, the moment that has been called decisive, will be shared by the viewers of the photograph. But all the other moments, all those millions of non decisive moments, all the unfinished searches, gather in us like sediments and make us feel the weight of our solitude.The need to share this solitude is the motivating force behind the present project. Not being a writer, I used a photographers approach: I chose some people who seemed interesting to me, I had them talk and I recorded their statements. Then I worked on the recorded tapes as if they were contact sheets and negatives: noting the strong points, pruning the repetitions, giving emphasis to what seemed to me characteristic. Of course, the people I interviewed had the chance to read these extracts and make corrections.Those who collaborated on this project are photographers whom I am a little envious of. When I look at a photo, I always wonder (consciously or unconsciously) if I would have liked to have made it. In most cases, my answer to myself is no , either because I dont like the image or, on the contrary, because it is too similar to an image that I could have taken. But it happens that I see photographs that I would have liked to make - but which I know I wouldnt have been able to make: they are the result of a way of working and, more than that, a way of being, that are not mine. It is of those images that I feel envious - and it is the photographers who have made them that I wanted to talk with.Some of them I had known personally since my youth. Boubat used to visit us on Sundays and amaze my children with his magic tricks. With Sieff I had shared a studio in New York. With Riboud I often sat at a caf table at place Saint-Philippe-du Roule, talking about Magnum business. Newton allowed himself to be convinced, in the course of a memorable conversation, to try the 35mm format. Sarah Moon used to come show me her model portfolio, that I would look at with admiration and return, saying : I cannot photograph you, you know the ropes too well. Others - Doisneau, Giacomelli, Koudelka, McCullin, Rubinstein, Hamaya, Witkin - were familiar to me through their work. The hours spent with them (and the days spent listening to their tapes) brought them into my life. Since then, I cannot look at their photos without hearing the cadences of their voices. This is perhaps, for me, the most precious by-product of this project.Regarding