Eerie Photos Capture the Poetry of Paris Suburbs

Ask a French person to describe the suburbs, and they’ll likely paint a grim picture of housing projects and social disenfranchisement—no driveways or white picket fences here. Many high-rises were originally built to meet France’s housing shortage after the destruction of the Second World War and the population increase that followed. From the 1950s all the way to the 1980s, repetitive units of concrete towers, labeled "Grands Ensembles," cropped up outside cities, and have ever since been hotly debated.

“The Grands Ensembles are often depicted with pejorative terms, rightly or wrongly,” writes French photographer Laurent Kronental. His series Souvenir d’un futur (Memory of a Future) features desolate images of the housing projects coupled with portraits of the senior citizens who call the towers home. The images are stark, but Kronental insists that his project is not political. He has no interest in furthering existing stigmas regarding the shortcomings of such postmodern structures: “I’m trying to propose a different vision of these estates, far from the discussion about obsolescence, unemployment, delinquency and exclusion.” The message: This is an art project, not a public service announcement.

Along with answers to our questions, Kronental sent The Creators Project a detailed list of common misunderstandings about his project. Number 3, for example: “The areas are not abandoned.” It was an artistic decision to shoot very early in the morning, and give his photographs an air of mystery with the “soft and magic lights” of dawn. He wanted to create an otherworldly atmosphere—a concrete city mostly devoid of inhabitants. And while his only subjects are seniors, this has little to do with reality (#9: “Most of the population there is under 70”).

The photographer is also wary of purporting a homogenized, one-dimensional view of these environments: “The Grands Ensembles aren’t all the same. Some are calm, some appear to be in good shape but are deteriorating. Some are neglected, others are about to be renovated or reimagined. Some have been slated for demolition for years. At times they’re deserted, at other times, filled with life.”

Kronental worked on the series from 2011 to 2015, shooting the Tours Aillaud in Nanterre, the Pavé Neuf in Noisy-le-Grand, the Cité du Parc in Ivry-sur-Seine and many other places in and around Paris. “I wanted to understand the story of these large housing estates, and how their inhabitants had adapted themselves to them,” he explains. Establishing trust with his elderly subjects demanded time and energy, but they warmed up to him and shared their memories. “I wanted to tie together the passing of the generations with the impact of time on architecture. In spite of their melancholic look, these elders, with the strength of their dignified and elegant postures, assert their fight against old age and are firmly planted in their homes. They have reconquered a space that was not originally intended for them.”

Kronental lives in the Parisian suburb of Courbevoie, and it is likely his direct experience with this kind of “anachronistic, oversized urbanism” that fuels his fascination and informs his multi-faceted viewpoint. “I wanted to express my feelings about the poetry that is present in this universe, which seems to age slowly and take with it the memories of a modernist utopia. These large housing projects are often criticized; they fascinate or bother but leave no one indifferent,” he concludes.

To see more of Laurent Kronental’s work, go here.

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