Interview Adam Akner, photographer: the whisper and the light
He describes himself as someone who looks without yet knowing why. Adam Akner accumulates moments, places, lights, then lets time do its work. His photography does not shout: it whispers, and invites the viewer to come closer. Meeting with an artist for whom each image is a question posed to those who contemplate it.
Who are you, when you're not creating?
Someone who looks without yet knowing why. I accumulate a moment, a place, a light. At the time, it feels like wandering. But somewhere, it all comes back.
Your approach: a cry, a whisper, a silence?
A whisper. Because I believe that what is said too loudly ends up no longer being heard. I prefer that the image asks something of the viewer: an effort, an attention. Let him come closer. The whisper forces you to listen. And in this gesture, something happens between us.
A single work: which one says everything about you? For what ?
There is a photo called Luminous solitude. Well, it was my wife who called her that. The title came from her, and I didn't discuss it for a second. She had seen something that I couldn't yet name. What it shows is a presence in absence. Someone alone, but not abandoned. Crossed by light rather than crushed by shadow. It's the image that most resembles me, because it's exactly what I'm looking for every time I create.
Why this medium? What is he forcing you to face?
To be present. If you're not there at the right time, it's over: the image isn't waiting for you. What she taught me, which I had a hard time accepting, was that most things that matter don't come to mind. Photography forced me to live with that. In work, but also outside.
Does your work resist you? What do you do when things get stuck?
Not all the time, but on certain projects, yes, it really blocks. There are series where I feel like I'm going around something without being able to get into it. The image is there somewhere, but I can't find it yet. In those moments, I will look through other images.
An obsession, an influence, a dizziness at the moment?
Time. What we cannot control. Time to think about it, and it's already lost. Maybe that's why I photograph: not to stop time, but because I know I can't. There is an urgency in this gesture that I cannot explain in any other way. And the horizon goes with that. This line that we see without ever reaching it. It's still there, it's still going backwards. Honestly, it makes me dizzy. But that’s exactly why I come back to it.
Your workshop: laboratory, refuge, chaos?
My refuge is creation itself. Not a specific place: a table, a street, a train, whatever. What matters is when it begins to exist. There, I am at home. The rest is just decoration.
Have you ever doubted your legitimacy? What do you do with this doubt?
Yes, regularly. It's not something that goes away with time. I would have liked to, but no. There are times when I look at my work and really wonder what I have to say that others haven't been saying better, for longer. The doubt is there, I put it in my pocket, and I leave. Sometimes it even becomes useful: it prevents me from satisfying myself too quickly.
A work that you have never dared to create?
A cry. I never did it. My whole approach is in murmuring, in restraint, and somewhere there is something that I have not yet dared to let go. An image without filter, without distance, without this elegance that I perhaps sometimes put between me and what I really feel. I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I want it. But she is there, somewhere, waiting.
What do you want to leave behind, beyond the material?
A question, an interrogation. I would like someone to come across one of my images in ten years, in fifty years, and that will stop them. Not because it's beautiful. Because it poses something to him that he didn't know he was carrying. That's all I ask of an image. That's all I would like people to say about my work.
Does art still have to shock to exist?
Not to shock, but to question. My creations have messages, but they don't deliver in two seconds. You have to stop, really look, take the time. We live in a world where everything moves quickly, where an image is consumed and forgotten. I want the opposite: for beauty to be a gateway, not a destination. Let us linger on it and end up wondering what she is really saying.
A bad interpretation of your work: how do you handle it?
Bad, honestly. I am someone who is sensitive to criticism, I am not going to pretend otherwise. A poorly interpreted work does something. But over time, I understood that this is the game. If I create only for myself, I don't need to show. From the moment I show, the other has the right to see something other than what I wanted to say. What I don't like most of all are lecturing people.
What is your favorite song or music? And why?
There are many. Maybe Here, There and Everywhere by the Beatles. She's been following me for a long time. There is something in this melody that calms me, I can't really explain it. Here, there, everywhere. Some things don't need an explanation.
What is the film that had the most impact on you in your career as an artist? Tell us more.
21 Grams by Alejandro González Iñárritu. Three people who don't know each other, three lives moving forward, and a single event that impacts them. What touched me was this: we believe we live separately, and yet everything is linked.
Discover Adam Akner's profile and creations on www.inrealart.com