Yohann Lepage

Singular, elusive, a crowd in constant flux surges through the streets of Hong Kong. Each face that composes it carries a unique story, but these tales seem to dissolve into its anonymous flow.
In a monotonous and fleeting mechanism, dominated by intention and avoidance, bodies free themselves from their usual personal space, one that is typically open to exchange. They cross paths, brush against one another, and then vanish, feeding this fragile, living organism. By nature, its face is unstable; it distorts, reshapes in response to movements, influences, and ceaseless change.
What is the possibility of meeting under these conditions?
Can we allow a piece of intimacy to slip away in this nearly hypnotic state?
Portrait of the crowd or crowd of portraits?