Conventions are communal and festive events
that celebrate the cultures of the imaginary.
In France and Belgium, Japanese animation and manga form the broadest foundation of these gatherings, but they are also open to many other influences. American comics, Korean pop music, cinema, and video games all find their place. Fans of pop culture come together to honor their favorite characters and artists through activities, concerts, meetups, and a bustling marketplace at the heart of the event.
But so-called “geek” conventions are above all places where people dress up. Cosplay—a blend of “costume” and “play”—is a central practice that turns the venue into a shifting stage, where everyone performs their fictional heroes, oscillating between homage, performance, and identity play. People come to be seen, to become someone else, to find each other. The variety of cultural references turns these gatherings into colorful carnivals, joyful and chaotic to the outside eye. Marginalized or mocked subcultures find here a powerful mode of expression.
And then there are the venues themselves. Conventions often take place in huge, cold, and dimly lit warehouses, surrounded by parking lots and patches of grass. These inhuman spaces contrast starkly with the warmth and energy of the event. In a sense, conventions express a deep human need within urban lives that have come to resemble a concrete nightmare.
My photographic work unfolds within this context. With a Pentax 67, I wander through these conventions to create a series of black-and-white analog portraits. This formal choice—the black-and-white medium, the slowness of the 6×7 format, the ritual of the posed portrait—stands in opposition to the event’s frenzy. It allows me to isolate the individual from the crowd, to suspend the tumult for a moment, and return to a stripped-down, grounded presence.
My approach is firmly rooted in the tradition of documentary style, as embodied by August Sander, Walker Evans, or Berenice Abbott. The rejection of theatricality, the search for simple framing and austere light, aims to bring forward the raw interplay of faces, bodies, costumes, and props.
With this series, I aim to document a still-young but vital cultural phenomenon, in which fictional narratives become tools for identity-building and social connection. These portraits are a tribute to the communities that bring these imaginary worlds to life—and to the very real people behind them.
In France and Belgium, Japanese animation and manga form the broadest foundation of these gatherings, but they are also open to many other influences. American comics, Korean pop music, cinema, and video games all find their place. Fans of pop culture come together to honor their favorite characters and artists through activities, concerts, meetups, and a bustling marketplace at the heart of the event.
But so-called “geek” conventions are above all places where people dress up. Cosplay—a blend of “costume” and “play”—is a central practice that turns the venue into a shifting stage, where everyone performs their fictional heroes, oscillating between homage, performance, and identity play. People come to be seen, to become someone else, to find each other. The variety of cultural references turns these gatherings into colorful carnivals, joyful and chaotic to the outside eye. Marginalized or mocked subcultures find here a powerful mode of expression.
And then there are the venues themselves. Conventions often take place in huge, cold, and dimly lit warehouses, surrounded by parking lots and patches of grass. These inhuman spaces contrast starkly with the warmth and energy of the event. In a sense, conventions express a deep human need within urban lives that have come to resemble a concrete nightmare.
My photographic work unfolds within this context. With a Pentax 67, I wander through these conventions to create a series of black-and-white analog portraits. This formal choice—the black-and-white medium, the slowness of the 6×7 format, the ritual of the posed portrait—stands in opposition to the event’s frenzy. It allows me to isolate the individual from the crowd, to suspend the tumult for a moment, and return to a stripped-down, grounded presence.
My approach is firmly rooted in the tradition of documentary style, as embodied by August Sander, Walker Evans, or Berenice Abbott. The rejection of theatricality, the search for simple framing and austere light, aims to bring forward the raw interplay of faces, bodies, costumes, and props.
With this series, I aim to document a still-young but vital cultural phenomenon, in which fictional narratives become tools for identity-building and social connection. These portraits are a tribute to the communities that bring these imaginary worlds to life—and to the very real people behind them.