What does a photographer do when he’s not taking pictures? He still takes pictures. Or he writes. Or he dreams that he writes and photographs. This is the case for Julien Mignot, accustomed to editorial commissions (and a contributor to Libération), always travelling over hills and far away to meet the demands of his clients. Between two utilitarian shots, he steals instants from time, holding onto what escapes just as one tries to capture a dream. Like that thin yellow garden hose filling a blue-green pool with a trickle of water, the photographer knows there is no escape: the drops run off into the ocean, and it is futile to try to hold them back.

And yet, every photograph [in this book] is a rampart against forgetting and against the pace of everyday life — moments kept for oneself, intimate visions. He dug into the “miscellaneous” folder on his computer and extracted these photographs taken between 2009 and 2016 that had never found a taker, the ones that played no part, the ones he kept for himself. He shares them today, quite simply, as prints in various sizes, as projections, or as light strips with twelve slides. The images are indifferently in black and white or in colour. They have no particular style or underlying concept. In these moments of “letting go,” as he calls them — in these in-between spaces — he gently captures embraces, a winter tree, or beautiful cars. […]

Clémentine Mercier for Libération