À la sueur de leur front
In the territory of the Bay of St Brieuc agglomeration, I went in search of those who feed us, letting myself be guided by chance encounters.
On the quay of the port of Saint-Quay-Portrieux, on a country road in La Harmoye or in a café in Quintin, some people agreed to talk to me.
Quintin, some of them agreed to share a little bit of their life, their daily life.
"The peasant is the only poet who does not realize that he is a poet", said Bernardin de Saint-Pierre said.
In the family kitchens, the coffee still smokes on the table. The conviviality of this world is still there. The harshness, too. I tried to take the pulse of this world in order to grasp the pulse of this world in order to understand what links these farmers to their land. I went to the places where life is present, in a pasture where a farmer struggles to keep his herd moving, in the darkness of of a barn... These are moments lived with these people that I would like to share, like a travel diary.
I shared these moments with these people where feelings and emotions take precedence over numbers and reports.
On land, at sea, everywhere, these same hands sculpted by work and the elements. These gestures passed down from generation to generation that are repeated. Night and day, these same gestures accomplished by the sweat of their brow.
For three years now, I have been regularly sharing the daily life of farmers, capturing their gestures and their work, remembering the moments spent with my grandparents, to build the series "We all had a farmer in the family".
À la sueur de leur front is the last chapter of this long term work.
This photographic documentary is produced as part of a commission for the Photo Festival Baie de Saint Brieuc.
Boarding the Alcyon 2 in Saint-Quay-Portrieux, there is a strong feeling of being in front of the elements, of being out of time.
Once the net has been emptied, it is quickly put back into the water for another haul, where the crew sorts, guts, washes and puts it on ice.
The fishing is not very good tonight. The seagulls dance around us in search of their feast.
Samy and Cézembre, fishermen. A real complicity links them.
"I've already fallen overboard one night in a storm," Samy tells me. Thierry, the captain, continues: "I threw him a cable to get him out. He tied himself up and the machines pulled him up with a jerk. He landed on the deck, soaked from head to toe, he looked like a big fish (...)".
"It's a pity that economic interests have taken precedence over the love of the job," says Philippe, cleaning the straw.
Winter is also a time for farmers to get on with machine maintenance.
On Jean-Paul's advice, this morning I meet Danielle, a farmer with a strong character and a big heart for coffee with her son Samuel and her husband, Patrick, in Quintin.
To return to the land, to take care. To take care of her family. In La Harmoye, Jessica, in her thirties, made the choice with her partner Balla, to return to the family farm to be near her father, Jean-Paul.
In the milking parlour, Samuel, their son, shares a moment with his daughter. He has decided to take over.
One of Danielle and Patrick's cows looks into the lens.
Danielle and Patrick do the morning and evening milking together. Patrick tells me: "It's a physical job and the repetition of the same gestures causes back pain".
Sébastien ensures that the milking machine is working properly on the computer.
The river flows a few steps away. Danielle, a farmer, takes care of the maintenance of the embankments.
The calves pass one by one under the eyes of the buyers seated on raised wooden benches, carefully observing each animal through their glasses.