Paris RoubAIx - A Field Guide.

So I have been working on a little project of late. One that has become a proverbial line of bread crumbs leading me to visualise better my creative and artistic path.

I have been fascinated with the recent or not-so-recent arrival of AI or artificial intelligence into the world of media and content creation. With this ironic juxtaposition, I looked to place images captured at this year's Paris-Roubaix cycling race alongside several AI-created pieces of written content. From its opinion on the city of Roubaix to a Haiku about the well-documented height of cycling legend Philipe Gilbert's socks, AI, if nothing else, is entertaining. The outcome of the storytelling experiment is called "RoubAIx - A Field Guide", a nod to Daniel Milnor and his video about creating so-called field guides as both a reference and motivational tool when working on photographic documentary projects.

"RoubAIx - A Field Guide" can be found on my website www.charldettmer.com.

For context, I should take a few steps back to how this first foray into the world of photo essays came about. It started one evening when I stumbled across Daniel Milnor (www.shifter.media), an experienced photographer, social media denier, YouTuber (yes, I know, it's complicated) and so-called Creative Evenagilst.

A staunch believer in authentic storytelling when taking pictures, his to-the-point videos and blog posts are refreshing and motivating. Particularly for someone like myself, who, after pressing the shutter, is often left asking, "WHY did you take this picture?

So with Daniels's voice in my head, I embraced the oncoming dopamine detox and started the new year by deactivating my social media accounts (only until I needed to repost about this work, of course). I then took myself off to the proverbial cabin in the woods to work on my craft. Sitting there staring at my camera, I began chanting the mantra, "What is your Why, What is your Why, What is your Why??" Simon Sinek would be proud.

As is often the case, when searching for inspiration, I fired up the laptop and scrolled through my image library. On this occasion, a folder titled "Roubaix22" caught my eye. A folder of images I have looked at many times, yet with my newfound Daniel Milnor view of the world, the photos took on a different hue.

As luck would have it, around the time of the world-famous Paris-Roubaix bicycle race, I was fortunate to have been in the neighbourhood (2 hours away in the Netherlands). Armed with my trusty little point-and-shoot camera, I finished my breakfast in the Netherlands, jumped into the rental car, stopped for lunch in Belgium and arrived at my Deux Etoiles **, two-star hotel in France a few hours later. I should clarify that I arrived at my destination without any photographic drive or purpose. I was there as a tourist.

To add credibility to my deep-rooted creative reasons for writing this post, I intended to remain without emotion when describing my experience over that weekend. But who am I kidding? I was like a kid in a candy store, and I was eating all the egg-shaped gummies!

From witnessing Elisa Longo Borghini cross the finish line in the famous velodrome to the masterful Wout Van Aert powering past me, floating over the fabled cobbles of Carrefour de l'Arbre at "that's-really-not-ok" kilometres per hour, it was all mesmerising!

With the clarity of hindsight and having come down from the sugar high, I'll attempt to explain the lessons from those few days.

Looking back at my images, it is clear that there was a story I was telling. However, I didn't know it at the time. This nagging sensation was at the back of my mind the entire weekend. A feeling I now realise was a creative urge. It was as if I knew I wanted to tell the story of this event and this place. Such a strange feeling to be drawn so strongly to something but not be able to grasp what it is.

To describe the sensation, I can compare it to watching a foreign film without subtitles. You sit there watching the images and have a pretty good idea of what's happening, but you know you are missing something. The nuances of the characters and plot are floating right by you. Then you turn on subtitles, and it’s as if the lights have been switched on. Immediately you are engaged and back in the loop.

I am not sure why I wrote this post, perhaps to share the unconventional way I happened upon my brief moment of creative clarity. That or putting what feels like my first meaningful step into photographic storytelling for everyone to see. A somewhat vulnerable, but indeed necessary, step. Creating a story 'after the fact' may not count for some, and these folks are welcome to their opinions. For me, it has acted as an inspiring step forward.

Yes, the way forward is still thick with the fog of uncertainty. Where will the path lead? Who knows? That's part of the journey. Learning to be comfortable with the unknown and learning to lean in.

In the meantime, keep an eye out for the line of crumbs, as one thing is for sure, it will lead you somewhere. All that matters is that you keep moving.

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