Few artists could master the amusing juxtaposition and the fables of human nature with such vigor as Robert Doisneau. His camera sought the surreal in everyday life while the photographer himself was charmed by his subjects.
There are days when the simple fact of seeing seems a real joy; you feel light as a feather the police stop the traffic to let you pass. You feel so rich that you want to share your bursting joy with others. It's Sunday, as Prevert's plumber sings. The memory of those moments is the most precious thing I possess. Perhaps because they're so rare. A hundredth of a second here, a hundredth of a second there, put together end to end; that never makes more than two or three seconds wrung from eternity.
There's no recipe for it; that would be too simple, but all those pictures that grow old gracefully were taken using instinct, with total confidence in the intuition which brings much more than reasoning, and that's a good thing because You have to dare to be simple that's so rare in an age full of intelligent people who know everything and see nothing. you often find an ingredient provided by the model, the look, this something, this heritage which you're not responsible for and which comes down to you from the depths of the ages. It twists around the optic axis and pierces photograph, celluloid, paper and spectator like a laser ray that broils everything in its path, including andthat's a very good thing the critical sense. Yes, I know, today you have to say 'Don't look at the camera!' That's an order, because the hunter must not be suspected of conspiracy with his prey.