At times theatrically sarcastic and piercingly grotesque, the work of Gérard Rancinan seeks to illuminate the world with its shock values. Edmund Lee meets the celebrated French photographer.

Gérard Rancinan didn’t become one of France’s most recognisable photographers by accident. “A picture is not a language. A picture is a shock,” he tells us at Opera Gallery during a brief Hong Kong visit. “You have to shock people. You have to take the people in front of the picture with you and [let them] feel the emotion.”

Since he started as a photojournalist at the tender age of 18, Rancinan had covered wars, riots and natural disasters, before subsequently finding his true calling in portrait photography. His diversified subjects range from Monica Bellucci and Paul McCarthy to Fidel Castro and the Pope, and his works have been regularly featured in magazines from Time and Life to Sports Illustrated and Vanity Fair.

But that’s hardly the end to Rancinan’s ambition: the veteran photojournalist has also started a parallel career in fine art photography since the early 1990s. After previous stops in Geneva, Paris and London, Rancinan is set to make his Hong Kong debut this fortnight, as his touring exhibition arrives with a selection of works from his trilogy series – Metamorphoses, Hypotheses and Wonderful World – and, of course, some of the celebrity portraitures that he’s still widely known for.

For his large-scale photo series Metamorphoses, Rancinan has transformed imageries of iconic artworks from past eras – such as Théodore Géricault’s The Raft of the Medusa, Diego Velázquez’s Las Meninas and Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper – into hyper-realistic mockery of our contemporary society’s intrinsically absurd conditions. And then there’s the new Wonderful World series – from which a set of Mickey Mouse-themed satires will appear here for the first time internationally.

Gérard, it looks like there’re a few fine art photographers working today – including you – who have a special interest in referencing iconic paintings in their works. Why do you think that’s the case?
Because, you know, too many artists want to [get closer to] the original. We learn a lot when we look [at] the past. It was the same thing for Géricault and Velázquez and the classical painters from the 15th century: they look at the past too. I mean – it’s my opinion – I am, as an artist, just a link [to the past]. Nobody invented the [original]. Since the first guy drew something on the rock millions and millions of years before [us], all was set. We have to be modest, and just learn and be witnesses of our time. The real artists are not [working] for decoration.

Do you consider it your responsibility as an artist to deal with social issues and world affairs?
Oh yeah, of course. It’s my principal work. It’s the most important thing in my life to talk about that. I talked about humanity in [my work for] the magazines, and now I talk about that in the museums and galleries. It’s my responsibility; an artist has to be engaged.

You’ve gone from commercial photography to fine art photography midway through your career. So what was the jump – or transition – like?
There was no jump, because when I started my job as a photographer at about 20 years old, for me it was exactly the same thing. I never build frontiers between different fields. Really, there’s no difference between a wedding photographer and a war photographer; there’s
no difference between a painter and a photographer. A lot of my friends say I’m crazy to think like that; I don’t know, I don’t think so. Because all these guys are witnesses of our contemporary time. In the next century, people can look [at the photos now] and think this time is crazy. There is no difference [no matter who took the photographs].

How did you begin to work in art photography?
About 20 years ago, I made the same kind of work for magazines [as I do now]. [An art auction company owner] in Paris saw my work in the magazine, and he came to my studio and asked, “Gérard, why aren’t you [exhibiting] in a bigger museum? Because your work is exactly…” But at this time, 20 years ago, photography art was not very developed; collectors were afraid, because ‘photography is not art’ – and so on. This guy pushed a lot of photography works into the market, and he pushed me also to present my work. So I started [then].

Let’s go back even further: you started out as a photojournalist at a French newspaper. What made you decide to be one then?
My father worked in that newspaper too, in the south of France. It’s a good newspaper. And my school [life] was so short… I don’t like school at all. And my father said: “You need to have something very creative.” I was young, about 15 years old, so I started an apprenticeship in the lab of the newspaper’s photo department. After that, the newspaper was all my life; I started at 15, and I love that. A very short time after I started, I wanted to be the best photographer in the world.

Small ambition.
Yeah. The best one. Only one.

Well, you’ve since taken portrait shots of many prominent figures around the world, from artists and athletes to politicians and ecclesiastics. What’s the biggest difference between working with each of these subjects?
Like, between Fidel Castro and [Chinese artist] Zhang Huan? There is no difference. A photographer has to be modest, and to disappear behind his camera. It’s the most difficult thing. Because a lot of photographers – [including] myself at first, but I tried to learn – [want] to be in the front of the camera. They are [thinking]: are we looking nice? This is stupid. The most important thing is to [capture] the soul of the people [you’re photographing]. This is why, when I’m working with Fidel Castro or Yan Peiming or different people, I try to find the soul or the spirit of the people – not the face. I don’t care about the face. I don’t care about [the] surface. I want to shoot inside, [to capture] what the person is [about]. This is why my portraits are a little bit different from the others – maybe.

From your countless shoots down the years, are there any particularly memorable ones?
Yeah. [Pauses] With each person, it’s different of course. I ask [for] a lot, you know? For example, when I shot the portrait of [Hosni] Mubarak [the former president of Egypt], I asked to go in front of the pyramid – like a lion. All the people were saying: “Okay! It’s a good picture.” And one guy, the minister of culture next to me, said: “No, no, it’s impossible. It’s too complicated.” And the president Mubarak said: “Yes, yes, we’ll go.” Two days after, I arrived at the front of the pyramid, and I saw 5,000 soldiers cleaning up the rocks because the president arrived. Can you imagine that? Just for a picture. And the minister of culture said: “You see, this is your idea: 5,000 people cleaning up the desert for you!” Voilà! It’s rare, but very often, it’s an incredible experience. With Dalai Lama in the [Himalayas], with Paul McCarthy [having] ketchup on his face… For everything it’s like that, when you push the limit – and I push the limit every time – every time is a good experience.

Gérard Rancinan in Hong Kong is at Opera Gallery from Nov 11-Dec 1.