In September 2018, British Journal of Photography in partnership with Visit California commissioned photographers to create a body of work to shed light on the lesser-known sides of the state. Clément Chapillon spent 10 days immersed in the Californian wilderness. The work he created embodies his journey as much as the people and places he encountered along the way.
California’s unique connection with the land is deeply ingrained in the state’s identity. Home to almost 40 million, it the most populated state in the US, yet nature continues to dominate. California has one of the largest expanses of classified wilderness in the whole country, second only to Alaska. Chapillon, however, is not interested in documenting wilderness as we typically understand it. His series places as much emphasis on urban environments as it does vast landscapes. The photographer searches for liminal spaces with invisible borders, human traces and enigmatic objects found in the middle of seemingly deserted landscapes. In California, wilderness is not simply physical untamed land, nor purely a mentality. “It is something stronger,” says Chapillon. “It is an energy that drives people’s lives, at all times, across the state. Even in the state’s bustling cities, wilderness remains part of people’s everyday consciousness. “In California, it is impossible to escape it,” says Chapillon. Palm Springs – a place where the desert spills into the city at every turn – embodies this narrative perfectly.
For the duration of the Meet California commission, Chapillon did his best to get lost every day. Leaving as the sun rose, often he would not return until after sunset. “I find myself lost in the middle of Angeles National Forest, just 30 miles away from the city,” he recalls, speaking of the two days he spent based in Los Angeles. “It was as if I was in the countryside: small houses on yellow-hued hills, desertic roads, farmers. Just after the forest, it is another life – so wild. On my way back, almost in darkness, I took a road from the countryside into the city. I passed bikers who were driving to enjoy the landscape: they probably came from LA, it is only a 30 minute drive from here.”
At the end of a long day photographing in Lassen Volcanic National Park, Chapillon happened upon Suzan preparing to camp in a secluded area of forest. “I saw this couple who were eating, very silently, listening to the sound of the wind in the trees,” he says. “It was this unique moment when the light was disappearing and everything was becoming magical.” In his photography, it is important for Chapillon that what he documents is real. “In the time it took me to focus the camera and do a light meter reading, she was looking back to the trees with the same look she had when I first saw her,” he recalls. “In her expression you can feel the connection she felt with the trees.”
The portraits that form the series are all the result of serendipitous meetings: a classic car enthusiast driving the 1000km stretch along Highway 1; a runner atop a large hill, pausing momentarily to take in the views of LA; a group of people sleeping on the beach, under the stars. “Meeting somebody in a certain place is important. It is kind of magical,” says Chapillon. “It can be difficult because often you walk all day and do not come across anyone to photograph. You have to be fortunate, you have to get lucky.”
Although a more challenging way of working, he is conscious to never stage a photograph for the sake of composition. “To photograph is to deal with reality. This might be a strict approach, perhaps quite orthodox, but I don’t ever change what is going on,” he says. “I never ask people to look a certain way.”
As far as rituals go, this is telling. Chapillon is a photographer who must be totally immersed in the environment he is documenting. When he is making new work, taking photographs is his one and only focus and as a result he is always present, constantly observing and looking for subject matter that intrigues. During the Meet California commission he gains a playful notoriety for being late. This makes sense: time simply does not matter when he is photographing, it is not in his consciousness.