It's been years since I've last been to
Provence but glancing through the pages of this exquisitely done tome
I feel immediately transported back in time. Not only because of what
the photos show but also because I know (for I see only what I know)
that they were taken in Southern France where I had spent some time
in my younger years.
How does one photograph the wind?
Photographer Rachel Cobb, writes Bill Buford in his excellent
introduction, „wasn't actually photographing the wind as such, but
its effects. She was looking for images so aerodynamically impacted
that we, like onlookers sheltered nearby, could feel the invisible
force, just as her subjects felt it. She wanted us to shiver and sink
our heads into our necks and hold ourselves in our own arms.“
I could indeed feel „the invisible
force, just as her subjects felt it“. And, I was once again
awe-struck that photographs can make visible what can't be seen.
Also, I could clearly sense that I'm not a wind-lover – there is
way too much foehn where I live.
I especially loved how Buford describes
Cobb's failed attempt to capture the moment when a hat was leaving
the head of a man or how she, „the photographer of discomfort“
(what a brilliant way to put it!), missed the mistral ruining a