Perfection is a pipe dream, yet many photographers spend their entire lives chasing the dragon. Landry Dunand is not among them. That much was evident in a collection of his wholly analogue photographic work splayed out across the floor of his home in Bang Krachao as he prepped for an exhibition called "Silver Fermentation" to be displayed from Dec 1-30 at the Neilson Hays Library on Surawongse Road.
Squatting on a few vacant tiles in his small kitchen as his work stared up at him, the 35-year-old French photographer spoke emphatically about the images he'd chosen for the collection, which depicts the people and environment around his home: some human faces, shots of a tangled forest, close-ups of lotus flowers.
"A pure photographer will say, 'This is shit', " he remarked. "It's not well-printed, it's not well-framed, it's not well -- you know?
"But ultimately, it's what I want to bring out."
Looking at his darkroom creations, it's easy to see how he feels they might draw criticism from photography snobs. Some of his compositions seem to lack guidance, his processing features erratic toning, and many of his prints are discoloured. But for Dunand, it's not about polish.
"Imperfection is really something I dig -- like young people say."
Imperfection in photography is a dangerous thing for serious people to highlight in an age when hordes of bored millennials are fooling around with trends like Lomography. It makes it all too easy for critics to cast honest work in with the quaint hobbies of that restless lot. In Dunand's case, that would be a shame.
Photographer Landry Dunand at his home in Bang Krachao, Thailand explaining the work to be included in his photo exhibition 'Silver Fermentation'. Photo: Brandon Harder
Although his work wears its imperfections, and he admittedly appreciates the aesthetic, it carries with it an artistic depth that isn't produced with a drizzle of snake oil or a packet of magic beans. It is one part personal reflection, one part philosophical musing, and one part social commentary.
"It's like a super-personal journal, if you want," he said. "I'm trying to get a diversity of my surroundings -- what has marked me the most."
Dunand spent the last three years producing this collection of images with which he shares an intimate connection. It is a physical portrayal of his thoughts, and in the evidence of his development process, he becomes present alongside his subjects.
"I printed this, like, a long time ago," he said, pulling a photograph from a pile. "I mean, some are like a year old, two years old.
"I like how the weather has been changing the colour."
"Humidity and silver," he said, examining the print. "Not very good, eh?"
His question was rhetorical, as his appreciation for the discolouration caused by prolonged exposure to Thai humidity extends past its aesthetic.
"It's all about time continuing on the photo," he went on.
"Most photos nowadays are like one-sixtieth or one-hundredth of a second, and that's it. Then it's online and you see it. A minute later, it's dead, you know? What I'm trying to do is more like the brewing of the photo, and the time keeps on moving," he continued. "Putting a soul on to it, and letting the time go."
As such, just like the subjects depicted in his images, his prints will live and age before they die.
"They're going to faint one day," he said of his prints.
However, some may have already outlived the subjects they depict.
"She lives in a shack," he said, pointing at a portrait of a woman. "I think she's dead. I haven't seen her for a month."
The image maker said he takes issue with photography being put on a pedestal.
"Like it being this beautiful thing you touch only with white gloves and you respect it," he qualified.
Therefore, his photos will also be living in a kind of shack for the month. The corrugated tin that will house his work within the gallery until Dec 30 is intended to be a respectful nod to the people whose lives and environment have inspired him.
"It's kind of giving them back a tribute," he said. "Inviting people to understand it's not like me being a part, stealing a moment and bringing it to this beautiful space. It's more like sharing a moment with those poor people."
When asked what he hoped viewers would see in his work he was hesitant to respond. His brow furrowed slightly and his voice sank to nearly a whisper.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know."
"Now I'm at a point where I don't care. It's what I want to bring out. It's bringing back soul into photography, you know?"
Dunand's black-and-white exhibition "Silver Fermentation" will be on display alongside some of his cyanotype prints in their own installation, called "Gilded Blue", at the Neilson Hays Library from Dec 1-30.
