On the heights of Briançon, in Puy Saint Pierre, begins the story of this house, chez marcel.
Perched on its hill, it hears them singing, laughing, dancing until late at night. And then in the morning, it sees them working to make it more beautiful, to help it face the winter. It also hears their arguments and sometimes wipes away their tears.
Chez Marcel is an intimate account of the daily life lived by the people who pass through this place: a self-run house run by some refugees who have no place to stay after their crossing of the Montgenèvre pass, which separates Italy from France.
My gaze is full of sweetness and poetry on the refugees living in this house. I capture their carelessness and spontaneity, their vitality and our wanderings. The emotions are transmitted through the bodies, bodies anchored in a landscape, a place.
Poetry of a place is such that we experience it inside, the body is enveloped in it. We are the place we live in.