For me, film has long been first and foremost the bizarre art of showing and looking at bodies, the art of inventing hundreds of ways in which emotions and consciousness become bodily visible. Film is narration through bodies rather than images. Images are at the service of those bodies, are draped around those bodies, filled with bodies, carried by bodies. 

Eind 1991 verscheen het eerste nummer van Trafic, het testamentaire geesteskind van de vorig jaar overleden criticus Serge Daney. Voor Daney vormden “wereld” en “cinema” een onlosmakelijk geheel. (...) Met Trafic wou hij onderzoeken of vanuit cinema opnieuw een kritische distantie ontwikkeld kon worden. (...) Een gesprek met drie van de vier redactieleden: Raymond Bellour, Patrice Rollet, Jean-Claude Biette, beheerders van een zware erflast. Rollet: “We vertrekken vanuit de overtuiging dat de film moet blijven bestaan omdat ze een unieke ervaring is en blijft. Indien de film zou verdwijnen zou een deel van de mensheid verdwijnen want de cinematografische ervaring kan niet worden omgeschakeld naar een andere.”

Conversely, I try to find my words on the editing table. I have both my typewriter and my editing table in one room. It is connected to this question of writing and filmmaking, because it is also very evident you cannot make films the same way you can write a text. For the text you need to go to the library, but 80% or so of them are created in the room, or if not created, then at least the final version is made indoors at your desk. That is also the last stage of the filmmaking, the aspect where writing and filmmaking come together. People ask me, why don’t you write anymore, and I realise it is because I have succeeded in making a form of writing out of my filmmaking.

TV-programme producers occasionally try to make their works available for repeated viewing in addition to one-off screenings. As is the case with Voyage à Paris, which is like a beautiful poem you want to read several times, or a piece of music you want to hear several times. This visual essay contains a couple of passages you will remember especially well, transitions that are so intriguing that you will want to further savour them. 

« Si je ne filme pas, je ne vois rien, je ne retiens rien, ni les arbres, ni les visages. Si je les filme, je peux les oublier, mon film est ma mémoire, un catalogue de faits et gestes, un inventaire (très incomplet) de ma vie. »