Buvettes

You are sometimes described as a photographer who highlights forgotten, sometimes overlooked spaces in contemporary France. Is that a fair definition of your work?

Let’s say I like spending time in worlds that are not necessarily covered by the media, or at least not often highlighted in media or books. My idea is to tell stories by immersing myself in these places of everyday life. I work in color, and through the small stories I hear and pass on, I try to document an era -hair salons, bars, or stadium snack bars.

There is also something very personal about it: I deeply love these places. It’s a real joy to meet people there. They are sometimes among the last remaining spaces of social interaction. Essential places, almost landmarks, human roundabouts in a way, for many people. And beyond the time spent there -always rich on a human level- there is this very powerful feeling of becoming a witness. A witness to places that, in my eyes, are crucial for many of us.

How would you describe your photographic technique?

I would say it’s an immersive but gentle approach. Especially in bars and truck-stop restaurants, where I would never take out my camera for the first half hour or so.

I would arrive first as an ordinary customer. I’d sit at the counter or at a table and naturally start talking with the people around me. In these places, there’s a kind of openness: the counter almost creates an implicit permission to strike up conversation with others. That’s part of the magic of these spaces too.

I was interested in people’s everyday lives, in simple exchanges. And at some point, I would reveal more of myself, as a photographer. I would explain that I wasn’t just there to drink a coffee or eat a calf’s head, but with the intention of telling a story. From there, I would take out my camera and ask if they were okay with me taking a portrait and capturing a part of their relationship to the place.

And you use flash a lot, which is no coincidence. How does that fit into your artistic direction?

I really like flash because it enhances colors and brings subjects and places into the light, no pun intended. It gives images a very particular presence.

There is also a more practical aspect: in many of these places, lighting is difficult. You’re often dealing with neon lights or harsh, uneven lighting. The flash allows me to free myself from those constraints and remain quite free in the way I shoot. It gives me a form of independence from the environment, while also reinforcing the aesthetic I’m aiming for.

You launched the Buvettes project in 2015. How did it come about?

It was a project born at the intersection of several things, right after I finished my studies and an experience at Guide Fooding, where I worked in restaurant communications. It was also the last year I could benefit from travel discounts -my father is a railway worker- so I saw it as an opportunity to travel across France by train.

I’ve always been drawn to pre-match atmospheres. As a FC Nantes supporter, I used to go to the Stade de la Beaujoire with my father as a child. I wanted to rediscover those atmospheres elsewhere.

So I set off to visit around ten stadiums, with the idea of telling -first through writing- the story of three snack bars at each location. Photography came later, almost naturally. I quickly realized that the two were responding to each other.

You mentioned it a bit earlier, but what is your relationship with football?

I grew up with a father who supported FC Nantes, who took me to the Beaujoire stadium from a very young age. It became a way of building a bond between us, and it still is today. We continue to talk, to share scores, analyses, little Monday-morning messages… even if, these days, it can sometimes be a bit complicated.

It’s a sport that has given me a huge amount of emotion, and that’s still true today. I think, for example, of the 2018 World Cup. That summer was pretty wild, with a very strong sense of collective joy. Those are quite unique feelings that stay with you. All of this coexists: family ties, practice, emotions.

And then there’s also an aesthetic dimension. Football culture has always visually attracted me. kits, in particular, form an incredible visual grammar. When I was younger, I was very attached to my FC Nantes shirts. I also really liked Portugal, especially through Luís Figo, who was a true idol for me. Wearing those shirts was already a way of identifying, of projecting something. Even today, I still keep an eye on what’s being done.

The name Buvettes is quite powerful. Today, it’s almost a word that has disappeared from club vocabulary, replaced by more “marketed” terms. Why did you choose it?

At the time, it could have been called Stadium Snack Bar, but I found that a bit too long. Friterie might have been too reductive, even though it was part of those places. The word buvette, on the other hand, appealed to me for several reasons. First, even if it goes beyond sport, I liked the idea of tying it back to that universe. It has a very “ground-level,” very familiar feel to it.

It’s a bit like when I talk about a “dive bar” or a “truck-stop restaurant”: these are simple, almost raw words that belong to everyday language. A common, popular language. There is something very direct about it, almost like a form of informal address. The buvette is not just where you eat or drink, it is above all a gathering place.

On your choice of destinations, you obviously made a selection. How did you go about it?

There were, of course, the iconic clubs, the big names in football. But also a whole regional aspect, especially culinary. For example, in the North, I intuitively expected to find a very strong fries culture. In Brittany, in Rennes, there was the galette-saucisse. There was also Évian Thonon Gaillard, which played in Ligue 1 in 2015, where you could find mulled wine.

In the South, in Nice or Marseille, there was a whole pizza culture, especially with food trucks—something deeply rooted locally, almost an identity in itself. I also went through Lyon, a capital of gastronomy, to see how this culture translated into a stadium context.

And then there were more unexpected discoveries. For example, at the Parc des Princes, I was struck by the “Saint-Jean sausages.” It was a kind of snack stand set up in front of a church, run by a parish. What struck me was the contrast: you had sandwich prices displayed… and right next to them, the psalm of the day. The sales were used to fund the church’s activities. It was quite surreal.

With this journey across France, what did you learn?

Inside the stadium, everything is much more standardized, almost sanitized. You often find the same chains, the same offers, a very structured, very “corporate” form of food service. But what interested me most was precisely the outside of the stadium, there is much more diversity there, something more alive, more popular.

And the public, the supporters… do they quickly understand your approach?

Absolutely. The areas around the stadium, the pre-match moment, are quite relaxed. People are often in groups, with friends, in pairs, already in a supporter mindset, with their outfits and routines. They are generally happy that someone is taking an interest in them, telling a bit of their passion, their ritual. They are quite approachable, especially because they have time. There is something very spontaneous: they often see the photo as a memory. There is a sense of pride in showing their club, their moment.

From a visual standpoint, what struck you the most?

There is something very raw, very alive. Plates covered in sauce, a tray of fries falling to the ground, pints clinking together…

It’s an aesthetic of reality, sometimes slightly harsh, but precisely very sincere. And at the same time, it’s extremely colorful, very vivid. What I like is that these images engage almost all the senses. They are almost “synesthetic”: you can smell the merguez sausages, hear the sound of the generator, or the announcer calling out the line-ups. They are very dense images that awaken memories in those who look at them.

Today, with your more itinerant lifestyle, do you imagine expanding this project abroad?

Yes, completely. I remember, for example, a match between Red Star Belgrade and Partizan Belgrade. The atmosphere was absolutely insane. I looked at what was happening around the stadium, what people were eating, and I took a few photos—I really loved it. It’s an incredibly rich subject. England, of course, is an obvious playground for this.

That said, I’ve now been traveling a lot in a van for about ten years, and I’ve also developed a strong focus on the local, on what is close by. There is something very powerful in exploring a territory in depth. But at the same time, developing this kind of project abroad and creating spin-offs is very exciting. There is still so much to explore.