15 seconds of spring

Emilie Lesgourgues

What pieces or projects have you been working on lately?
Right now, I’m working on my first photo exhibition in Paris. It’s a major milestone and a crucial step for me, as it brings together the most important and intimate shots from my personal and professional journey, without forming a rigid series, since the project wasn’t conceived as one.

I also have a project at the intersection of photography and directing coming out next month on social media for an artist I can’t name just yet. On the pure directing side, I’m juggling a few things at once: a commercial for a perfume brand, a music video for the punk artist Content Fernand set for next year, with a teaser coming out at the end of this year, and a narrative short film in long-term development that I hope to fully secure funding for so we can launch full production.

Other projects are coming to life in parallel, but I prefer not to reveal too much for now and focus on bringing them to completion. Plus, without being superstitious, they say it brings bad luck!

What did you learn (or unlearn) while working on it?
While working on these projects, I came to realize how liberating it is to have a solid technical background. Continuing to learn, testing gear, reading, and listening to artists or technicians remains essential for me. But I also learned that you have to know how to break free from it. Being a skilled technician is a valuable foundation, but focusing too much on it can become a source of frustration. Accepting that you can’t control everything is deeply rewarding; it leaves room for beautiful surprises.

For this project, I stepped completely out of my comfort zone. Usually, I like to take my time to compose and capture the exact image I have in mind. Here, that wasn’t the case at all: I had to shoot on the move, capture fleeting moments, and work without seeing any immediate results since a large part was shot on film. It was a bit like sending myself a postcard into the future, without having taken the time to choose it or write a message on the back.

What words, ideas or emotions were running through your head?
While making this work, I felt deeply privileged to be in those places and to inhabit those moments. I had an almost vital need to devour them with my camera, not in a frantic rush, but as a sheer necessity. I saw poetry everywhere and, perhaps a bit selfishly at the time, I wanted to capture it on film to bring it back with me, to collect and archive those moments. These are images taken in different places across Mexico at a very specific time in my life; I simply wanted to gather these moments because doing so felt like a form of meditation, a way to preserve memory and remembrance. If I could, I would have captured the scents, the sounds, and the tastes as well.

When I was shooting, nothing else existed. I was completely anchored in the present, connected to whatever was unfolding in front of me. It was almost addictive: I couldn’t stop taking photos, and even when I wasn’t looking for anything, moments just kept coming to me. I sometimes went back to certain spots, but the fleeting moment was already gone. The image was already behind me.

Were there any conversations, movies, music, or books that made their way into that work?
When it comes to books that made their way into the work, I love being surrounded by my photography books and essays on creators I admire, like Sofia Coppola, Gus Van Sant, Wim Wenders, or Gregg Araki. I often devour them all over again or flip to random passages just to take a journey into their worlds and feed on imagery. Lately, I’ve been reading Motel Chronicles by Sam Shepard, the book that inspired Wim Wenders’ famous Paris, Texas. I really enjoy the collection format with its independent stories and poems, as well as its focus on often marginal or tormented characters. On a completely different note, I also started Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi, out of curiosity about the buzz around it and because it touches on one of my sacred spots outside of home: coffee shops. My other sanctuary remains art and photo bookstores, where I can spend hours immersing myself in visual inspiration.

On the cinema side, I would mention Julio Hernández Cordón’s Te prometo anarquía, Fernando Sariñana’s Amar te duele, Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Amores Perros, Claude Lelouch’s A Man and a Woman, Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express, Vincent Gallo’s Buffalo ’66, or more recently David Lowery’s A Ghost Story and Sebastián Silva’s Rotting in the Sun, not to mention one of my all-time favorites, Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire. I like weaving together films from different countries; each one resonated with me in its own way, whether through its themes, aesthetics, or soundtrack.

Musically, the playlists that made their way into my recent work grow with my recent discoveries, like Zoé, Natalia Lafourcade, the Amar te duele and Amores Perros soundtracks, or Mexican classics ranging from Chavela Vargas to Café Tacvba. The rest depends on my mood: right now, I’m swaying between indie, rock, and darker cold wave and synthpop sounds, like back in my early 20s, featuring artists like Duster, Heavy Lungs, Motorama, Holy Wave, You Said Strange, Cranes, Acopia, Fine, Poison Girl Friend, Ruth, Boy Harsher, Essaie pas, Austra, TRST, Molchat Doma, or even Crystal Castles.

What’s been the most difficult thing you’ve faced recently in your creative process?
The most difficult things I’ve faced recently in my creative process are patience and self-criticism, without a doubt. When I conceive an image, I have a very fixed idea of the final look, the composition, and the colors. Falling short of that standard can be a real source of frustration. That’s the trap of being overly demanding with yourself: you end up sharing less of your work or hiding your creative process because you never feel it’s perfect enough. It’s a huge learning curve for me, learning to trust myself and accept letting go. It might sound cheesy or cliché, but perfection doesn’t exist, and that’s precisely what makes an image beautiful!

What is your favorite coffee shop and why do you like going there?
My favorite coffee shops are the specialty coffee shops in my neighborhood in Paris, and I appreciate each one for its own character and details. Kott Café, run by Sojin and Géraud, a passionate French-Korean couple, offers exceptional single-origin tastings; it’s a super cozy spot with a lovely sunlit terrace in the morning. At Doppio, run by Hakim, or at Résidence Kann, the filter coffee is delicious and the welcoming atmosphere is always wonderful. I also love The Beans on Fire for its peaceful vibe and large terrace, as well as Typica and Coffee Ya for the quality of their pour-overs and their baristas, Juliette and Amanda, who have become close friends over time.

Whether I go early in the morning to structure my day, read, unwind, or hold casual, romantic, or professional meetings, these places are true sanctuaries and bubbles of inspiration. I always leave feeling motivated and comforted. It’s also rooted in a long-standing passion of mine: I read up a lot on coffee, brewing methods, and tastings, and wherever I travel, I always do a coffee tour. In Mexico City, for instance, I loved places like El Minutito, Camino a Comala, or a takeaway stand called Compay Café.

If your life were a movie this month, what would it be called and who would write the soundtrack?
If my life were a movie this month, it would be called 15 Seconds of Spring (or 15 Segundos de Primavera), a title I’m actually considering for my upcoming photo exhibition. The name speaks both to the immediacy of my photographic approach, capturing moments on the fly, in constant motion, and to the fleeting light of a very first two-week trip to Mexico. A brief, bright spring, like the blink of an eye, right before losing someone close to me and navigating grief upon returning there.

As for the soundtrack, it would be a deeply contrasting playlist balancing light and shadow: the raw melancholy of Mazzy Star’s Into Dust and AaRON’s Les Rivières, the dreamy atmosphere of Au Revoir Simone’s All Or Nothing, Frànçois & The Atlas Mountains’ Royan, and Malik Djoudi’s Cinéma, the cinematic resonance of Daft Punk’s Veridis Quo or Coldplay’s A Rush of Blood to the Head, with a cathartic touch from Jamie xx.

Which studios, laboratories, or workshops have you collaborated with recently or would you like to collaborate with in the future?
For film photography, I usually work with the Reportage Image in Paris for processing and scanning. While in Mexico, I also had my film developed at Foto Hercules in Mexico City. I really loved their professionalism, as well as their cool shop concept combining vintage sports jerseys and great coffee!

For video and motion picture film, I entrust my Super 8 processing to Andec Filmtechnik in Berlin, and I partner with Kafard Films for 16mm.

As for post-production, it really depends on the timeline, budget, and scope of the project, whether it’s a personal piece or a commercial assignment. I often collaborate with a close circle of trusted freelance editors and colorists, or I manage the post-production process myself.

Recommend one or more artists you follow who inspire you, and tell us what you like most about their work or their way of working.
The artists I follow who inspire me in photography include Mary Ellen Mark, Brenda Ann Kenneally, and Nan Goldin, who deeply inspire me for how they document marginalized faces and communities. Their portraits carry a tender, sublime truth without ever shying away from the harshness of their contexts. I also look up to Vivian Maier for her quiet yet bold and deeply human approach to her subjects.

Recently, I was completely captivated upon discovering the work of Madeleine de Sinéty. I was fascinated by her mastery of film: from the choice of emulsion to the final print, her colors are incredibly accurate and striking. Her work genuinely touched me.

On Instagram, I closely follow contemporary photographers like Andrea Montano, Cristian Bravo, and Marina Mónaco. They bring three distinct worlds, moving between fashion, the underground scene, skateboard culture, and the everyday lives of subculture musicians. That raw, vibrant, and free energy is a constant source of inspiration for me.