In Hokkaidō, everything was still and intact - almost like a photo studio where the only thing that moves is a cloud, or the snow, and that's very, very slow.
The thing I had to do was "only" to move around the subject and search. And suddenly something would make a different drawing, the flower would appear different, and create like a figure.
artist: Yann Stofer
project: Hokkaidō is blue, white and gold
Tell us more about the main idea of this series and the name of the book?
The name of the book came simply from the fact that these three colors - blue, white, and gold - were appearing on almost every picture I made there.
I initially went to Hokkaidō to travel with a friend, Jerôme, who needed someone to drive with him because the snow made everything difficult for the writing project he had there. I knew of course I would take pictures there, but didn't know the beauty of Hokkaidō and how serene this place would be, the freedom that it would give me. Then, when I came back and the films got processed, an english magazine called Pleasure Garden invited me to feature them. After the magazine came out, I had an exhibition in Vendôme specially for this series. It's only after this exhibition that I decided I'd love to make a book out of Hokkaidō is blue, white and gold and therefore keep it as an important milestone in my work.
Some years ago, I traveled alone in Andalucia and took a lot of pictures of flowers in the desert, in which the ground was cracked and rusty - in contrast to the softness and purity of the snow in the Hokkaidō is blue, white and gold photos.
It was beautiful when I shot them - I took a lot of pictures there - but then when I came back, I liked them but not enough to make something out of them or show them. It's funny to me that I couldn't know in Andalucia that I would actually complete the vision I had, but years later, in the snow, on the other side of the world.
How did the snowy landscape influence your photographic approach and aesthetic?
I always loved the snow, always was attracted to it, even as a kid. I think it's because of the perfection of it all - to be honest, it's almost like a photo studio in the open air : it's so perfect it allows you to get to the heart of your idea immediately.
While it's still a bit technical to obtain beautiful pictures in the snow, it's an incredible playground. There was something of a museum in there : everything was beautiful to me. I just had to select in this landscape.
How did the experience of traveling in Hokkaidō impact your sense of personal freedom and independence?
A lot. It is, to this day, a very strong and, somehow, nostalgic feeling of total freedom. Without knowing it then of course, it was just before the Covid 19 pandemic. At one point, it was Chinese new year celebrations, and I remember hearing the word corona there for the first time. Also, as luck would (rarely !) have it, I was completely free of any other job at that time, finished everything before I left, and got no phone calls, no stress, no urgent mail, nothing of all this usual anxiety. Absolute silence and therefore, absolute freedom.
But even beyond this context, the surroundings and the landscape were so snowy, there was something fluffy about it, like a cocoon, like a bubble. Everything was silent, beautiful, fresh air, icy sea. Idyllic.
4. You mention experiencing a sense of rediscovered serenity while photographing in Hokkaidō - can you talk more about how being in nature and taking photographs contributed to that feeling?
As I mentioned, I always loved the snow, the mountains, but also nature and landscapes. Even in the very first series I took years ago, when I didn't know I would even become a photographer, I always made many many landscape pictures, especially big wide and wild spaces.
But in Hokkaidō the combination and cumulation of the insularity, the Japanese tradition, the mountain, the snow... It made something completely unique to me, and gave me a freedom I didn't know I could have.
Of course I'm still amazed by any very large landscape, even very close - even the Dune du Pyla for example that I know very very well. I don't need to go to the other side of the globe to be amazed. But it's the combination I mentioned that made it so unique.
Also it's maybe a feeling that got enhanced a posteriori - because it's my last big trip before an era in which everything became more complicated. I went back to Japan several times since then, but always with a working visa and several complicated things in the way.
What do you think it is about nature and landscapes that can evoke such strong emotional responses in people, and how do you try to capture those emotions in your photographs?
To be honest I never think about all this - or of anything, really - when I take a picture. When you press the button you search for nothing, the search is over - you just leave an emotion to guide you.
I took a lot of photographs there, even if it was analog, I had the need to shoot a lot, maybe because everything was beautiful, I was indeed the first to be emotional about it. But also because I had a lot of time, which is rare in my work, and again, it gave me total freedom. Long hours, silence, calm : everything led to the fact that I could take the time to search.
There is also something about movement : when I shoot portraits in cities, I'm always on the lookout for something moving. A dog comes out and shows its head, a person passes by and creates something interesting in the picture, etc.
In Hokkaidō, everything was still and intact - almost like a photo studio where the only thing that moves is a cloud, or the snow, and that's very, very slow. The thing I had to do was "only" to move around the subject and search. And suddenly something would make a different drawing, the flower would appear different, and create like a figure.
And then, I got back, and of course the pictures began to speak for themselves, to tell their own stories I didn't decide or think about when I took them. For example it hit me that in the picture of the car in the snow, it's like if we were looking at a remnant of civilization or modernity sinking in the snow, crushed, overwritten, lost. Everything melts in this picture. And then I realized - in this series, everything made by men gets covered and disappears, whereas nature emerges and lives again.
editor : Ecaterina Rusu