Mirrors are so present in my life that I’ve made them
my family tree!
No excessive narcissism, though, even if I often find myself caught in their trap when I photograph them.
What I try to capture with mirrors is more the reflection of light, a glimmer of light on a shadowy wall,
a sparkle that contrasts with the matte paint.
I’ve often used strangely shaped mirrors placed on furniture in the 1940s,
found in the street on top of garbage cans. But I’ve also had dazzling coloured glass tiles made in India.
And I even spent several years chasing after the small convex mirrors that adorn the walls of Indian palaces, before finally finding the last makers,
a craft that has sadly now disappeared.
From this ceaseless quest for light to distill in the shadows,
I’ve kept a few mirrors framed in wrought iron.
My house in Brussels
