From my introduction to Vraies Semblances in 1999, at the Dina Vierny gallery in Paris.
The idea of referring to famous master-pieces probably came to me from a thought that had often crossed my mind – on the subway, for instance – when glancing at some woman who struck me as particularly beautiful, but who didn’t seem conscious of her beauty, and whom a fashion editor would never have allowed me to photograph for a magazine, although I could easily imagine her in a painting by Leonardo da Vinci, Rubens or Ingres. I visualised them in the costume and with the hairstyle of one of those periods, or even naked in some mythological scene: partly because I like fantasising about bygone ages, but more because, as a photographer, I prefer discovering unexpected beauties, rather than celebrating those that, in my eyes, are somewhat devalued by general admiration. I have to admit that in the beginning I wasn’t a great connoisseur of classical painting. But little by little, as this game of associations went on and as the project took shape, I began to revisit museums and to assemble a small library of art books, which in turn helped to feed my phantasies.