I had just turned 16 and it was clear that my studies would lead nowhere, which forced my father to put me to work. I had the choice between three jobs: bellboy, bartender, or working at Jour de France as an assistant reporter. I choose the latter without hesitation. Until then, the idea of becoming a photographer had never entered my mind.

I stayed for two months, cutting out news stories for reporters and following photographers like Titomirov and Luc Fournol out on the job. At the end of my internship, I was still considered too young by the deputy head of the newspaper, so they sent me to a photo lab, Photodal, used by the Dalmas agency.

It was only at that moment that I found my passion for photography. I became a printer, and in that little yellow room I developed thousands of image of all different subjects. I began to dream of doing this for a living, which became a reality after meeting another one of the apprentices: Raymond Depardon.

We became good friends. I lived in Montparnasse and we spent our evening there in the cinemas and bistros on the Rue de la Gaieté, each of us armed with a Leica, speaking and dreaming of images.

A year older than me, Raymond left for military service, so the editor-in-chief of the agency sent me every night to the Paris cabarets: the Olympia, the ABC, Bobino. I could finally indulge in my passion that had become an obsession. I was drawn toward the glamorous side of it all, but the most important thing was taking pictures.

Read the full version of this article by Daniel Angeli on the French version of La Lettre.

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Daniel Angeli - Icônes
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