Back in 2006, this blog started – or rather its unpronounceable ancestor “Du Fin Fond Du Grenier” – as a backdrop to expose those marginal portraits and family pictures often encountered in the midst of tea times and ”field” encounters. Academic serious research was no place for those pictures – or so I was told back then, back there – and so they should return to the cookies’ tin where they belong to. Yet, the pictures and the imagined ancestors kept on coming back, hungry for more than cookies, definitely not staying put within the tin.
Blogging came from that: that burning hankering to tell those stories that had been, most of the time, burned with the pictures in some fire, in some war. I was longing for a history of Cambodians, maybe just the Muslim ones, maybe just the Cham ones, maybe just the ones I was nearby, told only by those stories. A(n) (visual) anthropology piecing together those portraits to make sense of those two un-separated worlds: the one of the grandmas and grandpas unfolding in the ones of the kiddos next door, and unfolding the anthropology of today, right now, right this moment. A line of continuity that would assume the disruptions, the break downs, and the holes as a fabric of togetherness.
What I probably feared the most in photography, is certainly what I learned to love in anthropology: the absolute – the delightful – lack of control. The blurriness, the out-of-focus, the broken frames, the chemical accidents, and – literally – the so perfectly named ”Cross-Processed”. The best I would wish for this blog would be to convey some of those feelings as you will browse through those kept-in-the-back-of-the-attic clichés.