FIÈVRE

The idea of this book was born during the Rencontres d’Arles 2022, when David Fourré visited the beautiful Lorenzo Castore solo show at Galerie Anne Clergue. David and I talked about our admiration for Lorenzo’s work, and it became obvious that we shared a similar approach to his art, a similar wish to explore it and highlight a striking undercurrent we had discovered there. We attempted to put it into words and sensations, to define what touches and moves us deeply, which would become this endeavor’s central theme. We met with Lorenzo, talked with him several times to better define our project. We are talking here of an ebb and flow, a constant tension between opposite forces which meet or collide, a permeability to the world and others… and thus the title presented itself one day as perfectly obvious: Fièvre.

CAROLINE BENICHOU: In the introductory text of the book, you describe an encounter, well, not really an encounter, rather the reckless pursuit of something elusive (embodied by the man in black) which seems to trigger both a founding act and a photographic revelation. While reading it, I wondered: is the act of shooting, a very physical gesture the way you describe it, by which I mean impulsive, inherent to your photographic research (it becomes one with it in a manner of speaking)?

LORENZO CASTORE: It has a lot to do with my lust for life, linked to an irresistible attraction for the mysterious. Photography is the medium that allows me to be the most viscerally in the present, searching for something secret of which I cannot speak and even less explain. I am interested in the energy released during my photographical practice.
It is very physical and impulsive but it tends towards something immaterial and transcendent, connected to my experience of reality.

CAROLINE: Visceral, that’s the word. A tremendous perceptive intensity emanates from your work. A kind of permeability to the world, the way we experience it, not only what is visible because it goes beyond that, or I could even say it spills over. You bring up the notion of coincidence when speaking of your practice, which I think comes from the fact that what you search for is indescribable. But what does explain that for you, photography is simultaneously the capturing medium, the language, the container and the vector of what you are seeking?

LORENZO: I believe that life’s purpose is to live intensely, which implies steady growth, or better said trying to be oneself a little more every day. In my view it is the most exciting thing one can do, but is also very difficult. There is no defined path, one tries to find the way that suits one best, if possible without prejudice or moralism, with faith and courage. As far
back as I can remember, I have always felt a great desire to try to be true to myself. I perceived my identity as transparent and tied to obscure origins; for a long time I had difficulty even identifying myself with my appearance. I had difficulties discerning the boundaries between the outside world and myself, and it remains somewhat true today. I clumsily but fervently attempted to find a medium that would help me feel less undefined, through which I could express my inner world and communicate it to others. From a very young age, I would draw and paint, I tried playing the guitar and doing amateur theater but for different reasons none of these suited me. Painting tied me too much to a specific space, I had no talent for music and I was too shy and embarrassed for theater. I studied law in the attempt to discover if I was suited to something more normal. Then one day I stumbled upon photography, which turned out to be surprising and different from what I had imagined until then, thanks to Koudelka’s Exiles exhibition which I came across by pure chance while walking alone and aimlessly during a weekend at my father’s in Florence. As a journey in the exterior and the inner world, photography befits my nature: it is my tool to grow and explore and a pretext that allows me to walk relentlessly, to penetrate where I otherwise would not dare, it makes me discover other realities, and my own more deeply, it pushes me to project myself into others, and everywhere it helps me be more open, more compassionate and tender towards others and myself, it fulfills my curiosity and sense of adventure, it allows me to experience my fears and desires, to be alone without feeling completely lonely.

CAROLINE: That brings us to the idea of a certain feverishness in your relationship to the world or to life, which transpires in your photography. It is indeed the subject of this book which chooses a transversal exploration of different series of photos taken over several decades. How did you perceive David Fourré’s and my proposal?

LORENZO: Since the idea and impulse of this book came from both of you and not from me, its genesis varies a lot from all the others. Furthermore, you wanted to talk about my photographic approach, so in a way about a philosophical concept which would still concern a daily and very physical practice. Even though I was intrigued and wished to work with you, I took some time before accepting your proposal. I did not want to create a formal book based on an abstract theme.
The idea of talking about certain concepts appealed to me, but I wanted to do so in a simple way and was not sure I could manage. The work we accomplished together was surprising as, through dialogue, I was able to see an idea progressively take shape and become real. We talked a lot during the preparatory phase to try to understand where our intentions converged,
and the turning point was probably when we chose the title. It is key in understanding the essence of a work, it is its supreme embodiment. After that we had two inspired days in Arles during which our initial attempts at sequencing the book were immediately successful, and showed us a tangible element (as a matter of fact, the first part remained practically unchanged), which gave us confidence as well as a point of view. The work took shape and the original idea became something concrete.
It is a book about heat and skin, after all.

CAROLINE: This constant tension that David and I see in your work, between sensuality--animality sometimes--and fantasy, between fieriness and serenity, between roughness and delicacy, is it a well-thought-out issue or something beyond your control to some extent? And when you reach the editing phase, do you end up keeping that which had escaped you?

LORENZO: The tension between opposites is what attracts me the most, like a powerful magnet. This tension cannot be preconceived since it would exclude any possibility of grace or magic. I cannot know in advance how what I am working on will turn out, and giving oneself the right to fail is a formidable freedom one must cherish. In my case, contradictions do not constitute a limit but signal a dialectical vitality. Insecurity is a powerful creative driving force but I need a strong intention, even if it is difficult to describe in words. I proceed thus: I follow an inner voice to which I give as much freedom as possible, I let it go where it wants, and when it seems really convincing, I follow it with all my might, putting aside
all rationality. I start working relentlessly and continue as long as I feel an evolution is possible. Each time the experience is different, therefore so are temporality and method. The only constant is the search for an emotional tension which brings a sense of wonder. This method has its cost since, to paraphrase Paul Florensky, if I reach the height of an interior movement by discovering an appropriate mode of expression, I cannot go back to it: if one thing has already been said, it cannot be repeated, I gave birth to it and it is not within me anymore. I don’t believe it is an absolute rule, but it is the way it works for me. Once I am done shooting comes the time of reflection during the editing, but it can also be not entirely rational. This part of the process is exciting: each time I try to create a new language where images become music through unpredictable means … ideas, dialogues, intentions, intuitions, obsessions, attempts… but following my Northern star, that is, the origin of what has guided me to that point.

CAROLINE: When speaking of your photography, I like the idea of creating a new language, and of finding one’s music. If one does not know your work or looks at it superficially, series after series, one might think it is somewhat fragmented or disparate. However, I believe it reflects the modulations of one single voice, one single perspective, a tremendous freedom. Do you feel you have freed yourself from the idea of a formal unity in your work?

LORENZO: Since I started shooting, I have been obsessed with the whys. What pushes me to do this? What do I have to say? Why do I feel this need? But these are questions I cannot rationally answer, it is the work itself which must eventually do so. Only through practical experience am I able to give soundness and credibility to my ideas. Making sure you have an easily identifiable style and technique solves several issues and can bring you a sense of security, but could also limit one’s freedom of expression in favor of a self-referential complacency. Nowadays, knowing that I am associated with a form that supposedly resembles me, would probably bring me little solace. Therefore, I wanted to explore new paths at the risk of drawing a blank. Let me give you a clearer example: a few years ago, my life changed thanks to Paradiso as it allowed me to meet Christian Caujolle et join the VU’ gallery and agency; I received an important international prize which meant the book was published in six different countries and my participating in many traveling exhibitions in Europe. I was 28. That specific work was in color and this way of using it had given me a certain recognizability: this type of photography worked well but it was not what I wanted to do. I did not want to be labeled a colorist. Furthermore, I felt I had understood how to shoot this kind of night color photography. I could have repeated this genre indefinitely. I therefore decided to stop shooting in color. It was an instinctive, if uncomfortable, choice but I never regretted it. From then on, I decided to work as if every time was the first time, without however feeling compelled to systematically create something new or to change just for the sake of it. I relied on my experience but without resorting to facility, in this case the aesthetics that brought me luck. This thought process was supported by some of my readings, and back then the history of icon painting made quite an impression on me; the rigorous discipline it requires means that the creator does not matter as much as the energy transmitted by this person who acts as a go-between (for a long time, icon paintings were not signed). There, becoming a mediator is a really interesting and avant-garde concept for me since it casts aside self-interested individualism without dodging the idea of an individual commitment. A long time ago I intuited (but also wished) that my work was a puzzle whose pieces I assembled progressively, and thus – even though my vision went beyond – I was aware that at first glance my work could seem confusing. In spite of this I have tried not to become influenced by the outside world, confident that with time my aim would become clearer and clearer. I wasn’t sure to succeed, but such was my intention. Until now, in all my decisions, I have attempted to radically honor that way of thinking.

CAROLINE: There is again, all in all, risk-taking but in a different way, especially regarding the perceived apprehension of your work by others, shall we say. I am now wondering about the artists who inspire you, are some authors important, whether because of their creative approach or their aesthetics, or even simply in your own circle? Who are the photographers you are in dialog with?

LORENZO: Photography gave me the opportunity to enter numerous lives, including my own, which makes it an adventure whose intensity might be difficult to match were my daily job more ordinary. It creates unexpected relationships anywhere my spirit of adventure takes me, because it’s beautiful to share and nothing is done entirely alone, even if photography remains foremost a solitary practice. I don’t feel I belong to a movement or a group, even though I have a lot of close friends who favor a certain approach. Among them I am of course very close to Michael Ackerman: we have developed a brotherly friendship over the past twenty years, have shared a lot, and our relationship goes way beyond photography. By nature,
I am not prone to idolatry, however I obviously have been inspired by some photographers but also musicians, writers, painters, all sorts of artists and some extraordinary regular people with anonymous and unconventional lives. All of them have for different reasons had a strong impact on me. I don’t believe drawing up a list of names would make sense since it would be somewhat partial, but I can say that the first exhibition I saw by chance and which changed my conception of photography (and therefore my life) was Koudelka, immediately followed by August Sander and Robert Frank. These past few years I have felt an ever-growing affinity for Walker Evans, but in the meantime, there have been so many others.

CAROLINE: I would like to go back to the title of the book, which seemed so obvious once it popped up in our minds. Could you qualify all the kinds of fever which run through the book (as much as through you) and which constitute it? In the end, aren’t we faced here with a portrait, or even an implicit self-portrait?

LORENZO: Fever goes in every which direction. It is born of an emotional involvement in my personal experience which consists of many things at one time… a need for spiritual and intellectual growth, an abandonment to sensual desire, the attempt to relate to others here and now, and a tension towards the infinitely mysterious. Fever is fed by curiosity, empathy and instinct, but one’s energy and capacity are limited. I don’t have enough time to spare my efforts, so I dedicate myself as much as possible to what I am doing. For me, a self-portrait results from a lifetime’s work composed of a myriad of parts, each one independent and with its own personality, with value in itself but whose signification is amplified within the general frame of the full work. A self-portrait can be the photo of a stone, a dog, a mountain, a tree, a stranger, my mother or myself, or anything else. From the moment I decide to represent something, it means it speaks to me, concerns me, looks like me, is made of my own substance. And so, of course this book is yet again an attempt at self-portraiture, as any work done in this spirit would be.

CAROLINE: The construction and the editing of this book bring about and pass through different states of feverishness, found whether in softness or contemplation, in frenzy, in the urgency of desire or in a resting state. The rhythm also is important, whether in the journeying through images, the sequencing of contact sheets, the layout which brings as many pauses as thrills… how did you approach this editorial form?

LORENZO: Compared to when I first started, I now feel more and more connected to the editing part of my work. Thinking about sequencing and the layout gives me great pleasure. Editing gets more refined as one practices it, and the more I manage to practice, the better the quality of the final result, even if after a certain amount of time, I always find some defects or things I would like to change. Editing is linked to rhythm, musicality, the use of language, as is also, I believe, the case in literature. One’s ability to observe and listen to exterior signs, others’ opinions, and also to oneself, is essential. I try to free my mind of preconceived ideas and to proceed while searching for some sense of amazement.

CAROLINE: This book is the first monograph which explores your work in an overreaching, transversal manner. It can of course only exist because your photographs constitute today a rich and sizable body. It is an important moment in an author’s lifetime… does it make you look at your work differently, or contemplate your future projects under a new light?

LORENZO: The essence of my relationship to photography comes from a years-long journey, closely linked to the concepts of time and memory. I don’t believe there is anything different today, it is a progression born of a long process. Time is my own intimate time, i.e. my individual experience in all its singularity within the historical time frame endowed to me. Through photography I attempt to leave traces of a presence made from encounters and moments in the present, through which I try to build a feeling of timeless belonging – my reality. When I first started, I immediately wished to create a body of work where I could one day see myself, a kind of constellation, but the path ahead of me was so long that just thinking about it made me dizzy. The only way was to live and work, which I did. In the publishing history of my monographs up to this day (the present book is the eleventh), there were two relatively early on, Nero in 2004, and Paradiso in 2005, then nothing until 2015 (Ultimo Domicilio), and finally all the others between 2018 and today. The first two were almost the result of sheer luck, that’s the way I see it anyway. The ten-year gap was necessary because I needed to grow at the same time as my work. I have learned to wait, to give time to things. I thought of nothing but structuring my constellation, which should speak about my relation to others as much as about me. Works born of casual encounters made outside my daily life alternate and are mixed with more strictly autobiographical ones: the latter could not exist without the former. In my books there is always at least one image that returns. Memory is an accumulation process, where memories are not only made up of chains of events, but also of emotional states linked to past experiences which reappear as time goes by, to become a part of ourselves. This process always surprises me and is nurtured by the ability to belong to my time. Throughout the years my archives have kept expanding, getting richer, like the new words of a continually evolving vocabulary. If there is a difference in this new phase, it’s precisely in relation to the archives. It’s as if I dreamed of a love affair with someone who, for years, represented an ideal beyond my reach. It would be someone impossible to encounter really, until this person became more accessible, taking on a real physiognomy and approaching me to the point of inviting me to share. At first, I accepted this invitation with hesitation and reluctance, then I began to feel more and more comfortable, and the pleasure of seeing each other grew little by little until it became irreplaceable. This someone is not the ideal figure I had in mind, it has faults and limits, but it exists and is the mirror of my own history. I look into it, with often conflicting moods but trying never to forget tenderness. Of course, I continue to add words to this vocabulary, hoping to have the strength to continue for a long while, trying each time to discover my own idioms, the most suited to the circumstances, all the while enjoying the precious sensation of having finally established the foundations for my universe of fragments, from which I can draw in order to continue my adventure and strive to be as free as possible.

Interview by Caroline Benichou