Photographie de gouttière — literally “gutter photography” — takes its name from my vantage point during the months of confinement in Brussels. From the small zinc ledge outside my apartment window, I observed the dance of water as it moved, gathered, and disappeared — an ever-changing surface of reflections, shapes, and textures.

What began as a fleeting curiosity became a ritual that lasted more than 30 months. Each morning, before doing anything else, I would climb to the window to see what new story the night’s rain had left behind. Leaning into the open air, I photographed the delicate choreography between water, light, and metal — a quiet dialogue unfolding just beyond the boundary of the everyday.

This work, born from isolation, opened a portal into infinite variation. It revealed water as artist and messenger — shaping ephemeral worlds that existed only for an instant. It was here, on this small strip of zinc, that my deeper journey with water began.