A quiet moment with Tessa and Gines
For many photographers, the Camargue means one thing – white horses galloping through shallow water, their manes flying and water spray catching the morning light. It is an exciting spectacle and one I have photographed many times over the years.
But every now and then I find myself looking for something altogether quieter.
During my regular winter visits to the Camargue, I always return to the Cabane de Cacharel, where I have been conducting photographic workshops for many years. Tessa, the daughter of the owner, has grown up with the horses and traditions of the Camargue as part of everyday life. When I asked if she would allow me to photograph her with her horse, Gines, outside the traditional whitewashed cabane she calls home, she readily agreed.
There was no elaborate plan.
No dramatic lighting.
No attempt to create something artificial.
Instead, I wanted to photograph what already existed – the easy relationship between a young woman and the horse she knows so well.
The photographs were made during the late afternoon, when the soft winter light of the Camargue seems to linger across the whitewashed walls of the cabane. It is a light photographers dream about – gentle, directional and full of warmth despite the season.
The old whitewashed cabane provided the perfect setting. These simple buildings have been part of the Camargue for generations, home to the gardians who have lived and worked amongst the marshes, cattle and horses. Their uncomplicated architecture reflects the landscape itself – practical, understated and timeless.
As the late afternoon unfolded, I found myself photographing moments rather than poses.
Sometimes Tessa looked directly towards the camera.
At times, she seemed completely absorbed in her own world with Gines.
Often Gines decided what happened next.
Looking back through the photographs, I realise they are less about portraiture than they are about trust. The quiet lowering of a horse's head. A hand resting gently against a cheek. The complete absence of tension between them.
The photographs are also a reminder that the Camargue is more than a destination for dramatic equestrian photography. It is a living landscape where horses are companions as much as working animals, and where traditions continue quietly from one generation to the next.
In a world where wildlife and equestrian photography often celebrates speed and action, I was reminded that stillness can tell an equally powerful story.
Perhaps an even stronger one.
Two months later, I returned to the Camargue with a finished print for Tessa. Seeing her reaction was every bit as rewarding as making the photograph itself.
Images only truly come to life when they are shared with the people whose stories they tell.
