A photograph is what it appears to be. Already far from 'reality' because of its silence, lack of movement, two-dimensionality and isolation from everything outside the rectangle, it can create another reality, an emotion that did not exist in the 'true' situation. It's the tension between these two realities that lends it strength.
It seems to me that a photograph— even a straight journalistic photograph— is already several degrees removed from reality: it's still, silent, two-dimensional, limited by a rectangle, and, in my case, at least. black-and-white. I feel free, therefore, to use reality as a starting point, and to create situations in my pictures that are not necessarily faithful to what was actually going on. I hope to suggest— sensually. visually— another reality, dealing with love, hate, terror and other aspects of human relations. it's the tension between these two realities. between what was happening and what seems to have been happening— that, frozen into a picture, creates the humour and the power of photography.
I capture reality, never pose it. But once captured, is it still reality? I've always tried to play with the false impression of reality, with the ambiguity of appearances. Things are what they seem to be, or maybe something else. I use people as unconscous actors in little dramas they don't know they're in. These pictures are about Earthlings, but I'll let you in on a secret: I'm an Earthling myself.