These rural landscapes came to my eyes through a slight disturbance of my indifference. I salute the work of time, human, beasts, and the natural forces that have helped shape the appearance of these images. Photographing the landscape is a question of concentration, distance, monotony, utopia, idiocy. From a pragmatic perspective, it's about being elsewhere. Prospecting ridgelines and driving along country roads at slow speed. Gazing at the horizon through the windshield or looking at smartphone maps. It's often parking with the hazard lights flashing and the car straddling the road, hoping not to disturb passing motorists. It's about taking a tripod out of the ski hatch dozens of times a day, unfolding it and screwing a digital camera onto it, and then choosing a focal length and adjusting the framing of the shot. It’s about waiting, if need be, for a passing cloud, a change in light or a lull in the wind. It’s about coming home at dusk, dazed with doubt and mistrust, but satisfied to have contemplated the skin of the earth, being full of the sound and amazement experienced. And then it’s about coming back home to the studio at the end of a trip to spend days in front of the screen, editing hundreds of digital files and letting the images settle and perhaps reveal something.