First the flood, then the ebb. After immortalising the tight ranks of Landsknechts strolling through the city, the hordes of chanting pilgrims, the battalions of assault nuns camped in the streets, and the real or phony beggars following the marching armies, for the fourth and final chapter of this little saga, I wanted to focus on the faces of individuals.
Smiling or melancholic, pensive or carefree, these portraits taken on the fly seem to have a thin veil hovering over them: a sense of alienation, like the impalpable dust raised by a marching army that then settles on the stragglers, the lost, the fugitives.
Men and women have their faces contorted into the slightly grotesque expressions of shipwreck victims, abandoned and exhausted on the city pavements in the wake of a surging flood that shows no sign of ending.
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