My people. They walk, they pass, they talk and cross, they grow up and have fun, they work, they are a thousand years old. In the busy street, they hurry. They are different, and besides, the eyes are turned in themselves, they are what they do, they radiate. In the busy street, Hillel Winograd mixes with their singular history. He waits on tiptoe, he dances in expectation, he kneels. The time of a pose. He captures the snapshot of a moving, moving Paris. He captures the enchantment of the meeting with the intimate, the meeting with the tiny, the meeting with the unnoticed of the other. He grasps the trace of the passage, the wake left, the shadow.
COUNTRY | France
BIO | The gleaner of ideal. Hillel Winograd is a photographer. The man is marginal. He stands at the edge of the world, in perpetual search for balance. He never stood in the evidence of speech. It is silently and quietly that he considers reality. He waits for his turn, surrounded by a grace that emanates from him. He gleans the precious moment, the slightest detail where the splendor of life shines through. He says, “Making a photo is like catching the ideal.” He holds to life, and he sticks to it. Shooting is an essential link to others, a necessity to stay upright, alive, alert. And it is still standing that he tames the world by photographing it, in an ultimate attempt to put away the change of scenery. Hillel Winograd is not a predator, he does not set traps, on the contrary, he is a gleaner of images, a collector of signs, a collector of moments. He is an indefatigable seeker of infinity. He travels the streets of Paris, he picks the real, which wants to be seared. He aspires to another reality that he applies to drawing. In the accumulation of images, a plot is formed, the photographer, the man seeks his truth.