The first surprising thing is the delicacy of the shades. The slightly brown curve which is neither quaint, nor golden, nor sand, adorning the black and white proofs. We then get the impression that these expanses framed with sensuality and daring, allowing rocks and stones to rise up in the breaking of the dunes, are designed to be contemplative, that the travelling photographer’s emotions wander around the darts to the heart, that the eye gives itself up to caresses. “Photographing the body, the earth” is all that Bernard Descamps will say about it. And all of a sudden you tell yourself that all of this, within the full range of a coherent exhibition which still amounts to several months spent travelling in the Sahara, is too perfect, too well done, too controlled to stick to visual amazement. Then we understand that, far from giving itself up to literary memories, far from losing itself in the immensities, Bernard Descamps’ desert is working, once again, in the components of the space. More than views of the desert echoing the moments of pure beauty experienced in the last century by those who encountered the country of the blue men for the first time, Bernard Descamps has undertaken a sort of systematic approach to his work as a photographer. In the blinking of an eye, he has set sail to take his bearings.
The exhibition consists of 30 toned black and white baryte prints, underneath passe-partout in 40 x 50 cm format. Original, signed and numbered vintages.