Alain Keler

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Un album de famille - A family album

UN ALBUM DE FAMILLE
Je n'avais pas 3 ans quand mon album de famille s'est interrompu. Fils unique d'un couple en conflit, je suis devenu photographe pour fuir les tensions. Petit à petit, au cours de mes rares escales en France, j'ai commencé à photographier mes parents

A FAMILY ALBUM

I was not 3 years old when my family album was interrupted. Only child of a couple in conflict, I became a photographer to escape the tensions. Gradually, during my few stops in France, I started photographing my parents

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Un album de famille - A family album

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I was not even 3 when the family album was interrupted.
My parents when I was 2.
A sunday in Jouy en Josas, near Paris. Very close family, with very close friends of our parents. My mother, far left, and my father, in the center with a white polo. Jouy en Josas, 1962.
My parents on the beach. They were not getting along, shouting at each other very often. Cannes,august 1962.
My mother is pretending to swim. Cannes, august 1962.
The house of my parents is under construction. Their dream is coming true. Igny, 1963.
I smoke a pipe to look older. I was very bored and  dreaming to travel around the world. Jouy en Josas, 1963.
My father plays the fool in front of my first camera. This is one of the few pictures of him in his workshop. He was making, with my mother, handbags for women. Paris, 1963.
Family meeting at my parent's house, for the visit of my uncle and aunt from Canada. Igny, 1974.
Back in France after an absence of a few years, in the US and South America. I photograph for an american publishing company, and my parents are my models. Igny, 1974.
At the wedding of Véronique, my cousin, my parents dance together, but it looks more of a fight than anything else. My father finally win, with a big smile. Paris, november 1977.
My father, at the leather industry sow. Paris, june 1979.
My parents in front of their house. Igny, september 1981.
My mother and her two sisters. Behind them, the three brother in law. My father is on the far left. Batz sur mer, august 1992.
My parents with very dear friends in the city where I was born. My mother was always very happy to go back there. Clermont-Frerrand,february 1993.
My mother holds Leo, my son, one year old. Igny, july 1993.
My mother walks with my son Leo, two years old. Igny, september 1994.
My mother seems to be elsewhere. She will be soon diagnosed of the Alzheimer disease. Batz,july 1995.
My parents in their home. My mother, sick of the Alzheimer disease, keep all the time her pocket book with her. Igny,november 1997.
My son Leo, four and an half, at the doctor's. Paris, march 1997.
Breakfast of my parents. Batz, june 1998.
My mother pulls out her tongue at me. What looks like a clowning marks a changeover in the illness. Batz, july 1997.
Afternoon nap. Batz, july 1998.
My son Leo with my parents. This is one of the few photographs of the three of them. Oddly, my parents seem serene. My mother is sinking more and more in the disease of forgetfulness. Igny, 1998.
My mother has the Alzheimer's disease . She seems lost in her world. At this point, I find her very beautiful. Igny, June 1999.
Stopover on the way to Batz for vacation. A11, june 1999.
My mother keeps on asking: "who is this little boy, is he lost? We must find his mother".  She doesn't recognize her grandson Leo anymore. Batz, july 1999.
The call from the hospital was brief. My father was hospitalized. They couldn't keep my mother. In the middle of the night in the emergency room, I photographed the first gesture of tenderness that I saw between my parents. Orsay, october 1999.
My mother, in front of the hospital where my father is hospitalized. Talking to me she is mixed up between her father, who died being deported, and my father. Orsay, october 1999.
My mother is visiting my father at the hospital.It is the second time in my lifetime I see them kissing. Orsay, october 1999.
My mother after a fall. Batz, Summer 2000.
The wall of the house was covered up with small snails. My mother started to pick them up. She did that for quite a long time. It was strange. Batz,august 2000.
Igny, August 2000.
Gesture of affection of my mother toward my father. Igny,2000.
My father has done a pretty serious fall, I asked his doctor to send her to a clinic for rest. The place was immensely sad. The next morning, he called me for me to come back and get them. Monthléry, october 2000.
My parents at the door of their house. Igny, France. April 2002
Lunch stop on the road to Batz. A 11, may 2002.
Daily ritual of an old couple. They go from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the living room, watch TV, then go to bed. Igny, january 2003.
Daily ritual of an old couple. They go from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the living room, watch TV, then go to bed. Igny, january 2003.
The kitchen table with its oilcloth filled with shamrocks. Igny, January 2003
My father is very tired. I try to convince him to put my mother in a nursing home. During the interview with a doctor, my mother seems to realize that something serious is going on. She takes his hand. Paris february 2003.
Alerted by a neighbor who had just been robbed, my father went looking for an old rifle he never used. Too heavy for him, he was struggling to carry it. Igny, March 2003.
Painfully, they go to the dentist. My father should change his dentures, broken by my mother. Igny May 2003
Igny, mai 2003.
Exhausted, my father is waiting for the radiologist. I had to undress, then dress him. I hesitated a long time before taking this photo. In underwear and socks waiting seems comical.This is the last picture I took him.3 days later, he left us. 05-2003.
On 22 May, at four in the morning, we were awakened by the phone ringing. I knew what it was. My father passed away quietly in his sleep, in his bed, in his house. Igny, May 22, 2003.
On may 26 in the morning, I took my mother to a nursing home. She had noticed nothing. I never dared to tell him that dad was dead. In the afternoon, I buried him. May 2003.
On may 26 in the morning, I took my mother to a nursing home. She had noticed nothing. I never dared to tell him that dad was dead. In the afternoon, I buried him. May 2003.
The doorbell of the house of igny, the same since they moved in 1964. Igny, May 2003.
 The family album has been definitely closed on May 26, 2003.
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