The Blue Hour Project

Four Moments - Four Haikus

Today the term haiku is used to describe poems with a three-line 17 syllable structure. They are rooted in Japanese culture. These beautifully organized poems have always fascinated me for their rigor, force, and grace. They are so perfect that I consider myself not suited to create one. I define myself as an experimental spirit, growing with each error that I make and thus not being able to express myself in this pure state.

I am presenting my voyage through four non-haiku three-line poems.

It all started in Montreal, in Canada, where I was traveling alone to discover the spirit of the city. I was touched by an art piece and I remained in the contemporary art museum for hours until the closing time. It was the video of a common performance by the band National and Ragnar Kjartansson “A lot of sorrow”. The song “Sorrow” was being played one hundred times at Moma PS1 in New York, in 2013. During 6 hours of performance, as the artists got more and more tired, I could feel their emotions rising until the moment when they had teardrops in their eyes. The song continued on and on, relentlessly, like a continuous breath, never boring, always with a new interpretation accompanied by a strong will to keep ongoing. Beyond the melancholic lyrics, this song represents for me a compelling desire to continue moving on a chosen path.

Later on, it inspired me to follow my architecture and photography passion.

I was brought to do an architecture photography project in Remerschen and I have decided to shoot it during the “blue hour”, early in the morning, before sunrise. I remember my first day: the fascination of early morning changing sky, from black to blue and pink as I was driving to Remerschen. I arrived after the sun rose. It was too late, and the light was not soft any more. I was very disappointed that I couldn't have my right colours. I felt a lot of sorrow for missing what I thought as being the right moment for my photography.

Suddenly I was realising that our live are full with moments when we feel that something fragile and beautiful has just slipped away. We think we have it in our hands and yet it slips away like a soft skin fish swimming through our fingers into the crystal water. Later on, while talking to a local, I learned about the fog that sets sometimes on the water. I started looking for a new element to create a photographic water landscape. I continued to whistle my “Sorrow” song as I was thinking of how to find fog during a hot summer time, “because I don't wanna get over you”. One day it happened. One day a friend sent a message early in the morning saying there was fog on the lake. I rushed to my car. As I was driving I felt my emotions changing: from joy to deception. The sun was fading away behind the fog. Like in John Carpenter's movie, the fog grew whiter and whiter, thicker and thicker like a phantom with a soul of its own, covering the whole landscape, making the sun fade away. Everything was drowned in a milky wave of fog. All ghosted.

I kept looking for my moment. I came back several times. I checked the weather and I learned that fog was formed when cold water was in contact with worm rays of sun. I looked for the rainy day that cooled the water followed by the sunny, warm day. Like in a magic song, all connected. I was again the driver in the the night, hoping. I was again the fisherman waiting in the morning song of birds. I was again the explorer of nature. This time, the fog was floating on the water with a fragile soft touch. The sun was rising covering everything in gold.

My enchantment for light and colours pushed me to get up again and again, better prepared, a traveller in the night. I couldn't get over the idea that I was so close and yet so far away from my magic moment. I learned when I was supposed to arrive and found the exact places that I wanted to shoot. When I took the photographies, I had the right pinkish and bluish light, the water was beautifully still and birds were singing early in the morning sun. When I was waiting for the sun to rise and lighten the landscape I felt like a fisherman that comes early in the morning and waits with patience for the right moment, while enjoying the liveliness of the waking nature. The moment was good and yet I still felt like something was slipping away.

Chapter one : I arrived too late/ Sorrow waited, sorrow won/ Exploring.

Chapter two: Early morning five o'clock/ Drive in the dark/ Cause I don't wanna get over you.

Chapter three: Fog is floating on the water/ Look, he said/ Don't let my humble heart alone.

Chapter four: Coffee smell in the night/ dird's song as the light rises/ It's in my honey, it's in my milk.