Brice Challamel

As a child, I used to wander in the darkroom of my father. Under the dim red light, I would stare in awe as the photographs revealed their dark blood shades in the floating voids of paper. It was a world of magic and miracles.

Eventually pigments have turned into pixels but the magic still remains. And the miracle is happening once again, as I can now share with you, dear Stranger, the intimacy of this endless journey...

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  • Paris, France