‘He will transport the quintessence of his Paris studio, which exudes such timeless grace, to the church of St. Anne, where angels will flutter above the hush.‘
My studio is a rectangular room with a high ceiling, an old wooden floor and a large window facing north. It is like a tiny theatre with an empty stage, a space to be filled, a time yet to be invented, a proscenium where everything is possible, no trick disallowed, where neither seasons, nor days, nor hours exist. Here all temporal boundaries dividing life and imitation, reality and fiction, dissolve. Like any art worthy of the name, the most brazen lie can evolve into surprising and seductive truth.
The furnishings are modest: two stools, a carpet, some chairs, two or three lights, and an old blanket, which is my favourite backdrop. It can be a wall, a road, a field, sky, night, fear, wind... a screen for dreams.
The studio is not only in this room; it is anywhere I put my camera on my tripod and my tripod on the ground, liberating my heart and mind.
The studio is far more than a workplace or a tool of my trade. It is above all a state of being and feeling. The studio is everywhere. It is a corner of my mind.
Text from the book Studio, SteidlDangin, 2006.