No 1 - Mouvement
Automne 2023 ++


  1. Élise Ares Poliquin
  2. Jonathan Stack
  3. Noa Blanche Beschorner
  4. Mariana Chajon
  5. Josephine « Jo » Campbell Lashuk
  6. Gabriel Barbeau
  7. Joss D’Alton
  8. Clémentine Landry
  9. Gia Lamothe
  10. Camille Ares Poliquin
  11. Pablo Antonio Vargas Venegas
  12. Yann Pariot
  13. Dennis Belopolsky


No 2 - Passages
Printemps 2024 ++


      1. Jérémy Gagnon
      2. Ashton Diduck
      3. Romane Pilote
      4. Justine Lacoste
      5. Filémon Brault-Archambeault
      6. Noa Blanche Beschorner
      7. Emma Roufs
      8. Samy Benammar
      9. Mary-Kim Caron
    10. Neltje Green
    11. Jonathan Stack
    12. Jacob Mahfoud
    13. Samuel Terry Pitre
    14. Loup Gauvin-Dufresne
    15. Ribs Beauchamp
    16. Camille Ares Poliquin
    17. Pablo Antonio Vargas Venegas
 






Mark



Justine Lacoste



2023 | superposition de photos moyen format | Québec, Canada
 




Ma série d’expérimentations photographiques se base directement sur  l’essence des espaces transitoires et éphémères. L’espace temps dans lequel j’oeuvre m’est parfois propre, parfois commun. Et seule dans ces errances, je deviens figurante de ces canaux de transitions, devenant moi aussi temporaire.

Les photos traduisent cet état par leurs  pelures visuelles. Une photo témoigne de plusieurs états, gens, moments, tous indépendants les uns des autres dans la multiple exposition qui les rassemble.

Je trimbale mon appareil seulement pour prendre des marches, sans point d’arrivée précis, capturant les composantes du trajet et c’est au développement qu’elles m’apparaissent en ramassis, c’est donc à moi de les démêler et leur donner un sens quelconque.

My series of photographic experiments is directly based on the essence of ephemeral and transitory spaces. The space-time in which I work is sometimes mine, sometimes common. And alone in these wanderings, I end up a part of these transition canals, becoming temporary myself.

The photos translate this state through their visual layers. A photo bears witness to many states, people, moments, all independent from one another within the multiple exposure that assembles them.

I carry my camera only when going on walks, with no precise point of arrival, capturing the components of the path, and it is during the developing process that they appear to me in a jumble, it is then my role to unravel them and give them any meaning.

A Photographic Walk on Eclectic Territories

A translation of the interview with Justine Lacoste,
conducted by Filémon Brault-Archambeault

    Teleported to the middle of a field in Lachute, I begin my incursion in Justine Lacoste’s world. The breeze makes the grass vibrate as it passes through and brings to my ears the airy choir of a Linda Perhacs song. Straddling a Ski-Doo in the height of summer, I follow the wind and its music across the sky until I encounter a flee market. The tables are full of trinkets and random objects: a vinyl by Jean-Pierre Ferland; a small glow-in-the-dark statue of the virgin Mary; a copy of Philémon, the comics. I pick up an old camera and stick my eye against the viewfinder: from then on, the world will be in black and white, and everything will get superimposed, in transparency.



J: It’s an Anscoflex. A medium format, an argentic camera. I bought it still new at a flee market in the countryside. It’s like a disposable camera but from the ‘50s, (…) for people who didn’t know how to take pictures. When you wind it up, it’s manually. So you can superimpose infinitely. It’s tricky because I never know what will come out. It’s just… the surprise.



F: What manipulations do you make after capturing the image?



J: When I receive them, they’re almost blank. I feel as though I was digging in the picture. I said digging, but actually it’s more like unravelling. It’s like a game, within contrasts, I’ll look for what sticks out, and sometimes faces will appear. It’s ephemeral because the face that appears (…) could have never been found. And all the other faces evaporate. There’s always a glow around them that makes them disintegrate.



    Justine’s photographs tell the nostalgic relation to rurality of an artist who moved from the village to the city – a “countryside melancholy”, as she liked to describe. She points her lens to the architectural spaces she encounters daily, but inevitably feels the need to add faces to them, be they familiar or not. Through these random superimpositions, she lets bodies become marked by their environments.



J: I often go on photographic walks. During these walks, you never really go anywhere. In this context of walks that don’t really have a goal, (…) I highlight spaces that are not important. For instance, a staircase. Staircases aren’t important, it’s a canal, from A to B.



(speaking of the photograph at the bottom of p. 11)



I was in this phase where I had just arrived in town, I was trying to be more open, I didn’t know anyone. There were two guys smoking on this table – I thought they were so beautiful! This one had something special… this photo is so intimate: he’s looking at me, half-naked, with his legs and his cigarette too. (…) The superimposition – here, there’s a house. And over there, see, there’s a window. (…) I like that there’s a lot of movement, too.



F: For me too, movement in this photo is something that stood out. Which makes me think: you also have a practice as a filmmaker. Can you tell me about it?



J: What I make with video (…) is surrealist fiction. By working with so many different media, the craftsmanship is never the same, but there is always an element of confusion. I would like to incorporate these photos to cinema, translating them as moving images. (…) I would like for them to become a story, but all along (…), there would only be strata of images, in movement.