The images of Geert Goiris (°1971) challenge our sense of reality. They show us a strangely familiar world, at the same time convincingly real and unfathomably fantastic. Often, he puts up his camera in inaccessible far-flung places or tries to capture bizarre meteorological phenomena, but even when he operates close at home, he always looks for the odd thing out. The uncanny character of his images, however, can not entirely be attributed to his predilection for exotic landscapes or eccentric topics; it is as much the result of the way he puts the photographic apparatus to use. He predominantly works with a large format camera, loaded with specialized film (orthochromatic, infrared, etc.). His preferred moment of shooting is during the twilight hours, when dusk sets in and the light becomes unreliable. His working method is based on a mixture of preparation and chance. The site has been thoroughly researched beforehand and the large format camera requires precise handling. But during the long exposure time anything can happen and the film’s translation of what is experienced remains pleasantly unpredictable. The photographic image is never a mere conduit which makes it possible for us to visually connect to the world out there, but a means to expose the essential difference between our ‘experience’ of it and truly ‘seeing’ it for what it is. Like Jean Baudrillard, Goiris seems to understand that the camera is on the side of the world. The camera gives us a vision of the world stripped of any human projection or interference. Here, the sublime does not arise from the terrifying grandeur of the barren environment or from the looming disaster that we seem to discern in the silent landscape. Rather, it is a result of the distinct feeling of being denied any possible connection to an unknowable and alien outside. 

Text: Steven Humblet