Accessit Prize 2015
“The helplessness when confronted by the announcement of my cancer: what immediately entered my mind was death. But when you have a four-year-old daughter, the desire to fight is stronger; you’re ready to put up with all the treatments. It’s as though you were at a tunnel entrance and you can’t see the end. I have at last come out of this tunnel, but the scar will always be there to remind me of this long journey through it.” – Laurence

To get out of the cage in which the disease locked you up. To leave this prison by reclaiming your “freedom” from treatment. To go through the experience of an encounter with an image of yourself in a state of transformation and to accept it by being able to express your emotions. It’s your Force. It’s your Battle.
Being exceptional is specific to each of you, and particularly to you, Rozenn, who is today searching for vigor and strength. You, my two friends, Joëlle and Joëlle, who, in a rhythm respecting the nature of your bodies, have made your daily life into a garden where the miniscule preciousness of life blooms. I live alongside you and I choose to honor you with a photographic click, so brief and rather pathetic when compared to the time that you’ve been engaged in your fight.

“My combativeness is nourished by your radiant smile, your gaze overflowing with tenderness, your hand that caresses my cheek. I promise to accompany you on the path to happiness.” These are the words that my sister-in-law Catherine said to her daughter, the source of her strength.
With this photograph, I wanted to relate this double battle: to defy cancer while struggling to keep one’s femininity. The beauty of women comes from the very essence of the rhythm of life.

Élise and Eva: a battle from mother to daughter...

This photo was taken during my mother’s last treatment session. We wanted to immortalize the end of nine months of combat. I love her determined gaze.

“Eyes are the mirror of the soul.”
Since the beginning of the battle that Anne is waging against what she has nicknamed “the other,” she never stops scrutinizing the gazes of the people around her, fearing to see worry or compassion.
By accepting to pose in front of my camera, Anne’s message was clear: to change the gaze on the disease and on those who fight it. “Why must we hide ourselves, turn out the light, shut the curtains?”
This photo session was most of all meant to be a simple, timeless moment, an instant far from the disease. We only mentioned it, by telephone, before meeting each other. Anne’s force is to open the window and to love the present instant, to love life for what it is.

Three months after summer break, our daughter’s pre-school teacher developed breast cancer. Diagnosed relatively early, she would nevertheless be absent for the rest of the year, exhausted by the treatments. Our daughter often wanted to see her, she loves her teacher!
Highlighting early cancer screening seemed an obvious thing for us to do. Getting screened is not only a woman’s battle, it’s also one involving families, because it’s with close relatives that we find the strength to fight. My photo has no other aim (goal?) than to show that screening is also important for one’s children.

“When I was twenty-three years old I discovered that cancer had taken hold of my left breast. This wretched crab had not only pinched me on the heart side, but had made a real mess of me. The mastectomy isn’t pretty, it’s painful, but it’s so I can get well. Now reconstructed, these scars recount my anxieties and hopes. My desire to live, my force, and my love for horse-riding help me to make progress, to believe that this cancer had a meaning, even though it isn’t without consequences. When I manage to laugh at the disease, it’s one more victory against Mister C!
It’s the raised finger, the naked chest, the imperfect breast, and the smile on the lips that I try to surprise you with... and I think you’ll say that, coming from me, there’s nothing strange about it!” – Chloé
Tattooed, reconstructed, and alive.

You. You who met my mom, who made her cry. You the malicious. You who made us doubt, who made her fall. You the witch. You were strong, you were powerful. You wanted her for yourself alone, my mom. She didn’t follow you; she stood up to you. She fought with all her boldness.
Now you’re no longer there, she kicked you out. And thanks to you, we are stronger!

Adèle, the battle of a warrior.
After the chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and a mastectomy, a little session of “phototherapy.” A moment of family happiness, which, for an instant, reminds us that ahead of being sick, Adèle is a woman, a mother, the force of a family.
Despite the ordeals, her motto “Keep smiling” to share with all the anonymous warriors who fight the battle every day against the disease!

“Losing my hair was inevitable. A few days after my first chemo, I sat down in the armchair in the living room. My son, Hugo, was beside me. Nervous and resigned, I passed my hands through my white hair. I spread it out over the floor by handfuls.
My son said: ‘Stop it. Make yourself beautiful, put some makeup on your eyes, your cheeks, and your lips. I’ll come back.’ He walked out. I waited... He came back with clippers and a plastic gun. Facing the bathroom mirror, I was ready to take the big leap! He switched on the clippers and grabbed the camera. My hair shorn like a young soldier, fully armed, I become someone else. I then knew that I would win the battle.” – Chantal

The sky as the future. The fist raised for the battle. A bright interval. A vague sensation of dizziness, and then of force. There’s no battle without war. There’s no force without courage.

I come from a family of women. My mother and her three sisters are very close. Among the four sisters, three – including my mother – have had breast cancer, which they conquered with much courage and force. I myself have two sisters; each of us have in turn had daughters (as well as sons). “My battle, my force” is a homage to my mother, my sisters, to all the women who fight each day against breast cancer.
I’m a photographer. I took a photo of myself with a hand wearing a boxing glove to illustrate the battle; the other hand, its fist closed, on my breast to illustrate force. If one day I too must confront this disease, I hope to be able to show as much force and courage as my mother and her sisters, and all the women confronted by this scourge.

It was less than a year ago. A few hours before her departure for the Institut Curie. Last operation: the “repair.” She said to me: “Take a photo of me!”
I find her beautiful. Despite these months of struggle, tears, pain, doubts, operations, treatments, private tragedies... My wife, she’s beautiful!
She gets ready for this final stay in the hospital. In it I see the final act. With my children, we sense that the end of the battle is close, that everything will return to the way it once was. But she knows, before we do, that in reality there is neither beginning nor end. The disease is simply part of her life. She has already come to terms with it. She’s made use of it for a new beginning: taking up studies once again, professional projects... She runs and forces us to also get moving.
Nothing is like it once was. And it’s better this way: her battle has also become our force!

My mother’s breast cancer was diagnosed in August 2011. A mastectomy had to be done very quickly. I noticed that the deepest wound, following this operation, wasn’t in her flesh but in her femininity. I then had the idea of taking a photo of her naked, beautiful in spite of the scar and the disease. We wanted an image of a strong and sublime woman with only one breast... The title came naturally: The Amazon.
Then chemotherapy came along and robbed her of her hair, eyelashes, the beauty of her skin and her nails. Her real battle, her real force arose from going through the disease, which affects femininity so much, without ever losing her beauty.
She is now in remission.

In 2015, cancer made itself at home in Corinne’s life. After the shock, the reaction. Corinne is a fighter.
She won’t let herself be beaten by the disease. She’s fighting first of all with this smile, which often accompanies her; then, by wanting to remain feminine despite losing her hair.
Corinne also wrote several poems. One of them inspired the photo:
“Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed
Learn, differently, to think,
Gather your strength and lift up your head
Move forward in fighter mode, toward conquest
Believe in yourself, take up the challenge
Sent to you by this disease”
Corinne stands tall, and even if other falls were to come, they will be so many steps that will make her win the battle.

At her request, as a keen photographer and also as a friend, I took a photo of Sylvie, suffering from breast cancer, once a week, from the beginning of her battle.
There were great moments of tenderness confronted by other great moments of pain. Between two severe chemotherapy sessions, she was physically and psychologically weakened. I asked her to put on a bit of makeup and I tried to make her laugh. She had so much force, courage, and patience when facing the disease! Despite the deep torment, her determination and joie de vivre prevailed.

Janine, eighty-two years old, her left breast operated on in 2008, with a smile.
“Auntie, how do you feel about the after-effects of your cancer today?”
“I’m really lucky to have no health problems at my age! My sight has clearly diminished because of chemotherapy... I live with my kitty, Luna, she’s a bit fat but adorable! Sometimes, when I get bored, I smoke a cigarillo while listening to jazz, the music that my darling Pierre loved so much.”
I wanted to pay homage to a member of my family who is part of my everyday life, imprinted with the mark of the past through this black and white photo, with the idea of creating a nostalgic atmosphere. The session lasted ten minutes, without any staging. I wanted something natural.

We didn’t hesitate for one moment! The wind picked up slightly on the cliff. Time stopped. Altogether we raised our arms in the air. In front of this powerful nature, we are women, we are equal, full of life today, filled with desires and love. What will tomorrow bring? We want to support you, you women, friends, who fight against the disease, by offering you this beautiful image, which we hope will make your heartstrings quiver. Let’s fight together!

Grand Jury Prize 2015
“It had been twenty-four hours since my hair had started to fall out. So I got my head shaved. I wanted to take the lead, to be an actor in this battle against the disease. For me, for my daughter then one month old, for my husband, for my family, for my life. My battle really started the day this photo was taken. This battle and this victory against the disease have made me stronger today. This battle, my battle, my force.” – Charlotte

Forward march warrior women! Let us draw from deep down in our souls. Let us search for this incredible power, this glimmer of hope. In the maze of our hearts hides the most beautiful of weapons: Love. My aunt, this photo’s model, has now been fighting cancer for a year. I’ve seen her go through her most difficult moments without ever losing hope. She has this force which totally “blew me away.”

“CANCER.
This word echoes in me like a bad gene. Thirty years old, and this is the second time I have to fight, but this time it’s different, this battle doesn’t only involve me. It affects the three loves of my life. Participating in this competition is a way for me to bring an end to this battle that my body has had to undertake alone, but which I would not have been able to win without they who are my force and my reason for living.
This photo is a homage to the people who count more than anything in my life and who have helped me make progress when I was but a shadow of myself, destroyed by the disease and its unforeseeable complications, no longer able to be who I was: a mother, wife, daughter, niece, daughter-in-law, auntie, friend... It’s also a homage to my friend Anne-Marie, this warrior, a fighter and someone who’s cheerful right to the end.
In my battle, they are my force!” – Caroline

She didn’t think that pregnancy would bring her back so much to cancer. She didn’t think that she would repeat the same gestures: putting a prosthesis back on, washing it, taking it off at night, then putting it back on in the morning. “And yet it’s so wonderful to give life!”
The pregnancy goes well. So there is ultimately no need to complain! She doesn’t complain, in fact, but being pregnant, making life, is both beautiful and violent. I see her, every day, caress her belly as though protecting the baby and I also see her looking at her breasts, the one that enlarges and the one that inevitably leads back to the past. It’s not because you are busy living “the most beautiful thing in the world” that cancer can’t catch up with you. Everyday life therefore remains a struggle.

Accessit Prize 2015
With the disease, the foundations that we believe are indestructible become shaky. Personal and romantic relationships are put to the test. Our bodies and femininity elude us and drown little by little.
My mother fought a battle with courage that I’ve rarely seen in order to be able to face her close friends, save her life, her relationship... It took her two years to decide to get breast reconstruction, a choice that is hers and about which we speak little. The bodily sheath is again what it was before the disease. Reclaiming her body and intimacy was a delicate but essential stage. This photo symbolizes the battle for life and love. A slightly off-center face to face encounter that captures love in calm, everyday life.
Thank you Dad, thank you Mom. You are beautiful!

This photo is a friendly face to face encounter between an aunt and her niece.
My sixty-two-year-old aunt, Françoise, has been fighting breast cancer for several years. Her hair fell out after many chemotherapy treatments, but her mischievousness and her humor are her force.
Also affected by breast cancer in 2010, I am now in remission. Accomplices in our history, we share this gaze on the disease. An alert gaze, wide open to life and the hope of a cure, which I capture during a photography session full of (mischievous?) humor.

“My strength, her fight!” It’s the story of an encounter between a photographer and a woman who has just been told, a few hours earlier, that she has cancer. She wants to have photos taken with her sons in order to leave them a memory, in the event that… I was moved. I understand that this disease will change the woman standing in front of me. Why not take photos of her, of this body which will evolve, change? Why not help her this way, I hope, to cope with this ordeal, give her some strength?
“Eloa followed me with her lens before, then during my treatment. She helped me grieve for my former body and to appropriate my new, different and asymmetric one, far more beautiful through her lens than in the bathroom mirror. Eloa, thank you, you are an integral part of my fight.” – Fabienne

RTL Public Prize 2015
Was this land that I imagined with a great horizontality, with great neutrality just an illusion? It’s the fruit of my experience and I know that victory is at the end because I’ll hang on to life, I’ll hold this earth between my hands and I will win.
“No, but do you see what I see?
All of life ahead of you.
Come and see how beautiful it is.
I’ll give you a boost.
Take a good look at the horizon.
See how long it is.
See how clear it is.
I’m sure you’ll like it.
It’s easy, at the signal you take off from the ground
It’s easy, even rather good, you fly into the sky.
No, but do you see what I see?
Do you believe it?
I swear it’s truly real.
I’ll lend you my binoculars.
I see and send all the colors.
They look like little flowers.
Come and see how bright they are.
Yes, try it.
It’s easy, at the signal you take off from the ground.
It’s easy, even rather good, you fly into the sky.
Don’t be afraid that your wings burn.
Don’t be afraid that they become entangled, my beauty.
Your wings, they’re not fragile, my beauty.
The sky is clear.
It’s the moment, go on.
Go on, take off
Never come down.”
Mathieu Boogaerts for Vanessa Paradis

The ordeal of the mirror, other people’s gazes, full of compassion but moving. And the photos, which reflect the status of a sick person, locked in by treatments, secondary effects, and hospitalizations. She looks at herself but no longer recognizes herself. It only happens to others. Her force: remaining feminine. Her battle: staying that way to live. This incredible “rugby team” made up of her family, her friends, and the medical and nursing teams, altogether to win! Everyone had their own way of reflecting back to her an image of a woman in the whirlwind of life, flirtatious, affected, joyful, a fighter, the eternal status that she has continued to want to maintain for all those she loves and who support her so much in return. The try was converted! Sick for a time, a woman for life!

Time is nothing; and yet, time is everything. Life has taught me how hard it was to be a young girl, a young woman, a woman, a woman in society, a woman in love, a mother...
So, when Catherine explained her battle to me, I accepted to take this photograph. It represents so many things: a struggle, visible and invisible wounds, sorrows, joys, fears. This photo is but an instant, a fraction of a second. But to reach this smile, she went through a lot.
We knew each other without really knowing each other. After the photo session, we talked for the whole afternoon. Nudity is nothing when we confide all our secret wounds. We are mirrors for one another. Let’s take care of ourselves!

“‘Breast cancer!’ - I don’t think I grasped the meaning of these words during the terrible announcement.
Twenty-six years old, I thought it didn’t concern me. And yet...
This photo was taken before my total mastectomy in order to immortalize this body which was going to be different, to accept this new change in my life as a woman. I am a woman and I must stay that way. Despite my disease, I can stay beautiful and sexy. My family and close circle have always encouraged me to accept myself, to dare to look at myself and say: ‘Yes, you are pretty! With or without hair!’
To appreciate even more life and its little things, so ordinary for many. To embrace life to the fullest. Laugh even more strongly. Never let the disease get the upper hand. Today, I’ve told myself that this battle has become my greatest force!” – Priscilla

Her battle: to fight against humiliation, hair that abandons the head, eyelashes that flee from the eyelids. After having done everything to hide the metamorphosis, to avoid the gaze of others, and to cope with the split which leads to no longer recognizing yourself, after months of losing what is most cherished by us all – our identity – one morning, I said to her: “You are beautiful, you should put on some makeup.” It wasn’t a sitting, no, I slipped into the bathroom, I watched her while she began to take control of her new image. I surprised her in this private moment and I offered her my gaze on what she is: my partner who is fighting to become reconciled with herself. Her force: to dare to put some lipstick on her lips in order to rediscover her dignity and femininity.

I was three years old when my mother died from breast cancer. Like her and two of my aunts, I was affected by the disease. I was saved thanks to early breast cancer screening and to the extraordinary doctors I had the good fortune of meeting. Throughout their treatment, my mother and my aunts fought and were able to maintain their femininity and optimism. As for me, the cancer recurred in June 2015. Their example gives me the strength to continue the fight.

Valérie was undergoing treatment when I met her. Our shared passion for dance immediately asserted itself. Valérie is a contemporary dancer and teacher; me, I’m a photographer. Beyond the disease a lovely complicity and the desire to collaborate together on an artistic project took hold. Valérie drew her force and energy from her close circle and from her dance in order to fight and accept her new body. Through my gaze, I hoped, for my part, to throw a spotlight on a woman who has overcome this ordeal while accepting the “trace” of the disease.
A few months later, during an afternoon in front of my camera, dressed in her large black skirt and bare-chested, Valérie threw herself into a free and improvised dance to the sound of “Bolero” by Ravel.

“‘It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me,’ Nina Simone sings.
On stage as in life, I dance each day with audacity. From a play with legs to a play upon words, my battle, my force are my desire to live. To smile, laugh, burst out laughing! This inner strength which always takes me higher!
I play with this wig the way I would with prejudices. Shaved and made up is the way I’ll accept myself! ‘… And I'm feeling good.’” – Peggy

All combat is the birth of a victory. This photograph is aimed at all women. Struggle and determination! An image whose gestures represent courage and the desire to live. The artistic choice makes reference to Liberty Leading the People, a homage from Delacroix to the July Revolution of 1830. My inspiration comes from the power of resistance of all women, in particular those who have succeeded in combating breast cancer and who have been able to make us aware of it through their accounts. I am moved by their commitment when it’s a question of putting their force to work in order to win the finest of victories: life!

I’m going to be thirty-two. Not really yet the age when you think of cancer screening but instead one when you have already seen other women fight with courage.
I took this self-portrait with my grandmother’s Leica, in the privacy of my bedroom. I like to imagine that its lens holds within it all the beauty and force in front of which it has opened up. For my first roll, I wanted to give each photo a particular meaning. For me, this photo signifies “Never forget to love and look after yourself.”
The way that you think about yourself is perhaps the first step in the battle against the disease. It has the power to reveal, help, and heal, but also to destroy. It’s a force that you must subdue and construct. This photographic face to face is my Memento Vivere!

As a photographer, this photo session was the most overwhelming of my life.
Marianne wanted a series of post-operative photographs in order to help her in the reconstruction of her image.
Her account: “I’ll always remember October 7, 2014. For the first time in my life, I lost my bearings and feared for the future. As time went by, I told myself that this was the way things were and moping would change nothing. I had to put up a fight against this disease when I’d always believed that I was strong. But I was wrong: this force, I found with my partner, my family, my friends (women and men). They enabled me to continue smiling and to keep my spirits up in order to fight.”

The best weapon for fighting back is laughter. No matter the battle. This photo is part of a personal project for which I photograph women who have had breast cancer in order to show them that they are still beautiful, feminine, and desirable even with these scars or one less breast. Christelle smiles all the time. This image represents her perfectly, with this burst of laughter, her force against the disease.

Sophie has fought against cancer through someone close to her. “Her battle, my force!” she says. People close to us are also affected by cancer: the role of the close circle, the support these people provide are primordial.

Bérénice, my model, has not been confronted by the disease, but she’s convinced that we must fight on every front against breast cancer. Not only in France, but also in other continents, like Africa, where she comes from.
That women, wherever they are, have the force and the support to get organized and to fight in order to have access to cancer screening and to treatment. That this disease no longer be fatal. To succeed at this, we need to get mobilized and to make governments and people in every country aware of this battle. It’s in order to deliver this message, in her own fashion, that she poses with her paintings of war against cancer.