From a white envelope, I pull out thirteen photographs, taken on April 6th, 2024. Thirteen black-and-white pictures, captured around Lake Annecy by Jacques, and developed by him on large landscape-format paper, large enough to fill the majority of my field of vision when I hold them in my hands.
These photographs are woven into a story of friendship rekindled by a recent geographical closeness, which brought us together that day on the shores of Lake Annecy. The softness of the place, the warmth of the day. A memory of fair weather. But one photo says otherwise. A blur between the dark clouds and the mountains in the background hints at a curtain of rain over the water. In the distance, a steam-powered tourist boat crossing the lake.
That same Saturday, April 6th, wars make the headlines. Russians and Ukrainians are locked in a technological race to reduce the threat on the FPV drone front (FPV: First Person View—drones remotely piloted as though from inside the cockpit, via an onboard camera). The Ukrainian army calls for protection systems for their troops and equipment. Manufacturers are trying to catch up.
Absorbed by international news, I don’t go back to the photograph. It comes back to me, bringing with it those clouds tearing into rain in front of the mountains. What draws me in lies elsewhere, beyond the landscape itself. If I focus only on the upper half of the image, the reliefs are more like an interpretation—it could just as easily be an abstract painting. I focus on the gradients of light, moving from left (a spectrum of greys) to right (chiaroscuro), then up into vast expanses of grey and black. As I lift my hand away, which had been covering the lower part of the photograph, my eyes settle on the gentle ripples of calm water, taking in the lake as a whole. The sharp clarity of its surface stands in stark contrast to the blur of the upper half.
Jacques' clarification: this isn’t Lake Annecy under fair weather, but Lake Geneva during a violent thunderstorm. The photo was taken during our second meeting. The power of abstraction—I had the reliefs mixed up. The substance of this storm photograph isn’t in the landscape, but in the contrasts. Their rhythm speaks other languages. Here, writing in dialogue with the image.
And in this dialogue, as on April 6th when the photograph was taken, international events from September 12th creep in. Their violence grabs my attention. Over those five months, the threat of FPV drones has become a reality. Manufacturers caught up. Those drones, now delivered to the Ukrainian army and nicknamed "Dragon Drones," unleashed, like dragons, impressive torrents of flame on Russian positions this Thursday 12th, using tanks filled with thermite—a mix of aluminum powder and iron oxide capable of reaching 2,200°C. Discovered in 1890, this mixture can burn through 4mm thick armor in just a few seconds. Facing the article, a color photograph shows a Ukrainian soldier, absorbed as if playing a video game. The khaki of his uniform against the aggressive greens of the trees clashes with the black-and-white photo of the lake. Those colors evoke nothing but the destruction of nature and humanity. The soldier wears dark blue FPV goggles and holds a monitor for immersive flight. Beside him, another soldier, jovial, awaits his turn to play. I hadn’t immediately noticed the arrow between them, indicating that this is just the first frame of a more explicit video—one that reveals the spectacular fire caused by the soldier’s skillfully-guided drone reaching its target.
Several retail sales websites offer me the opportunity to purchase such a drone for my own leisure, along with all its accessories, and also to buy a camera suited to my needs. Wide choice, extensive price range. Home delivery is guaranteed within two to seven days, depending on the model.
My gaze shifts back and forth—from, on my left, the color photograph of the soldier unleashing a firestorm, to the photograph of the lake under stormy skies on my right. The violent contrast between the two makes my fingers restless—they hammer the keys noisily as I imagine Jacques taking photos from a drone.
