Eyewitness

Working as a photo reporter, Alain Keler was already in the country by December 12. In his recently published photo book, “Journal d’un Photographe” (Les Éditions de Juillet, Chantepie 2018), he included an entry from that day: “I’m in the war in Chechnya, alone and without a commission; fear in my stomach, bombs, fatalities… insanity reigns everywhere, without a break and without any place to take refuge.” During the Christmas holidays he did return to his family in Paris, but he already knew that, “when the holidays are over, I’m heading back to Grozny”.

It was in January 1996 that a now famous, rather surreal picture, was taken in a Park in Grozny. “As darkness falls we reach the army’s headquarters in what had been one of the most beautiful parks in the city, but now looks like a battle field. The first scene we encounter is that of a soldier playing the piano in front of other soldiers. Surreal! There is virtually no light left. I take two pictures at very slow speed. I reach the end of the film and have to change it as fast as possible; but the light is dying. I push the trigger just twice. I’ll have to wait till I’m back in France to know if I have a picture.”

The truth comes to light in the laboratory: it worked – Keler got his picture: a moment of quiet accompanied by music in the midst of war. A mistreated piano in the middle of the muddy wasteland of a former park. It’s a typical shot for the photographer, who tends to capture the unexpected moments rather than document the actual war. This is what makes Keler’s pictures so emotionally timeless: even when the events themselves lie years in the past, the viewer looks at the madness of a world disabled by war with the empathy of the photographer.

Keler is defined by a desire to bear witness, and to give a face to people steamrolled by great, historic events. His current photo book speaks about this.

You can read more about Alain Keler’s photographic work in the current issue of LFI 2/2019.