Soleil by Sebastien Reuzé

In 2016, Sébastien Reuzé roamed Los Angeles' enigmatic avenues, a ghost among shadows once caught by Weegee and Winogrand. Dismissing the city's tangible shapes, he sought solace in the sun alone, the celestial muse of this sun-soaked metropolis, cradle of beatnik dreams. Each encounter, a sacred communion—less a documentary, more a touch to the city's sensitive soul.

Through his lens, a symphony of images emerged: invariably centered, awash in a dramatic palette of yellow-orange hues, crafting scenes bordering on the abstract. These are not merely photographs but conversations across the epochs—echoes of Claude, whispers of Turner, mingling with the pioneering spirit of the first photograph from 1845.

Here, each frame contends with the sun—source and subject—challenging us to gaze anew, pondering its essence as the heart of all images, all visions. Thus, in Reuzé's artful dance with light, the question looms: can we transcend the sun, or does it forever capture us?