L'autre

by Luc Delahaye, Jean Baudrillard (Introduction)

This text contains 100 photographs taken of passengers on the Paris metro between 1995 and 1997. The photographer says he stole these portraits because under French law everyone is the owner of his or her image. However, he also says that our image is nothing more than a worthless alias of ourselves and it is everywhere without us knowing it. Accompanied by a text from cultural theorist Jean Baudrillard, this book is an exploration of the relationship between the photographer and his subject, and an investigation into the meaning of the human image.

Genres: Photography

192 pages, Paperback

First published June 24, 1999

Reviews

[Bogdan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have found the one and only facebook. L’autre is a collection of photographs, more precisely portraits of completely ordinary people in the Paris metro. Jean Baudrillard was an enfant terrible or, if you want, a bad boy French intellectual. More seriously put, he was quite unclassifiable, but here it would be relevant to call him a social media critic avant la lettre – and this experiment done in collaboration with the photographer Luc Delahaye is quite enlightening. The “stolen” portraits of strangers are preceded by a bilingual French/English introduction or argument, that I will transcribe below. The 100 pics are followed by a likewise bilingual postface – quite the word! – or essay, that you will have to discover on your own, together with this whole facebook, if I made you curious.

J'ai volé ces photos entre 95 et 97 dans le métro à Paris. Volé, car il est interdit de prendre, c'est la loi; chacun, dit-elle, est propriétaire de son image. Notre image pourtant n'est qu'un alias sans valeur de nous-même, partout à notre insu: comment et pourquoi nous appartiendrait-elle? Mais il y a plus important, une autre règle, ce pacte de non-agression: il ne faut pas regarder l'Autre. A part le coup d'œil de contrebande, c'est le mur. On est très seuls dans ces endroits publics et il y a de la violence dans cette acceptation calme d'un monde fermé.
Je suis assis face à quelqu'un pour enregistrer l'image, la forme de l'évidence; mais comme lui je fixe un point éloigné et je simule l'absence. J'essaie de lui ressembler. C'est une comédie, un mensonge nécessaire le temps d'une photo. Si regarder c'est être libre, photographier aussi: je retiens ma respiration et je déclenche.

I stole these photographs between '95 and '97 in the Paris metro. ‘Stole’ because it is against the law to take them, it's forbidden. The law states that everyone owns their own image. But our image, this worthless alias of ourselves, is everywhere without us knowing it. How and why can it be said to belong to us? But, more importantly, there's another rule, that non-agression pact we all subscribe to: the prohibition against looking at others. Apart from the odd illicit glance, you keep staring at the wall. We are very much alone in these public places and there's violence in this calm acceptance of a closed world.
I am sitting in front of someone to record his image, the form of evidence, but just like him I too stare into the distance and feign absence. I try to be like him. It's all a sham, a necessary lie lasting long enough to take a picture. If to look is to be free, the same holds true for photographing: I hold my breath and let the shutter go.

[Kendal · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this book in the back corner, on the bottom shelf of a used book store for $1.25. This simple fact made me buy it without even opening it. After reading the short description I was utterly curious as to how someone would take illegal photos on a subway without anyone knowing, prepared to be chastised if caught. After seeing how authentic and crude the images were, I couldn't set the book down without closely examining every face in every image. Remarkably real.