While a picture may be worth a thousand words, there is nothing like speaking to the photographer who had the eye and technical skill to tell it.
Enter Mathieu Bitton.
The French photographer, designer and art director has captured the essence of some of culture’s most captivating luminaries. From Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle to Robert De Niro and more, Bitton’s eye and lens create culture with every snap and memorialize a part of these legendary people’s lives.
Ahead of his new exhibit at the Leica Gallery, located within the company’s flagship store in NYC, we sat down with the famed photographer to discuss his storied career and what he still has left to do.
Mathieu, can you take us back to when you first picked up a camera? Was there a particular spark that ignited your passion for photography?
My father was the family photographer when I was little, and he always took such great photos. One of his best friends—my godfather—was designer Gérard Darel, and he had the first Leica I’d ever seen. The Leica M4 was his camera of choice, and that’s how I was first introduced to Leica. In fact, he later gifted me a silver Leicaflex when I was a teenager, which really sparked my interest in photography.
But years before that, it was photographer Roxanne Lowit—”the woman in black” who was always backstage at every major fashion show—who was the first professional photographer I ever knew. I met her when I was 11, and she became my “New York mom.”
Roxanne was the one who first took me to New York City in June of 1984 when I was at a Waldorf boarding school with her daughter Vanessa. All of my early backstage experiences were with her, and I loved everything about it—the glamour, the flashes, the moments being forever captured. My Paris Blues book is dedicated to her because she gave me all of that.
Your career spans so many facets—from designer to documentarian to photographer. How did each role shape your creative vision?
I don’t really differentiate between the various aspects of my work—I see them all as part of a melting pot of creativity and passion.
One thing led to another: collecting movie posters and vinyl, which eventually turned into designing posters and album covers. Designing bootleg cassettes while I was at boarding school in France, and later working on CDs, eventually led to designing actual CDs and cassettes. Trying to emulate Blue Note album covers back in the day ended up with me shooting and designing Blue Note covers decades later. I’ve mentioned before how my first portfolio consisted of all fake album covers, and now, 30 years later, I’ve worked with almost every artist that was included in that portfolio—most recently, The Rolling Stones. I’m proud that I developed my own style along the way, rather than just copying others, but that’s often how we start out, right?
These days, I really enjoy producing because it brings everything I’ve done so far together and takes it to a whole new level.
You’re known for capturing the raw essence of your subjects. How do you approach a shoot to achieve that honesty?
I consider myself very lucky to be working with people I truly admire. I'm very selective about who I work with, and I like to take the time to get to know my subject first. If we've already met and established a connection, that's great, but if it's someone I’ve just met, I’ll sit down with them and try to understand their character—their feelings, their passions, their likes and dislikes.
I’m not the type to just take out the camera and start shooting right away. I don’t want the camera to act as a barrier or to make them self-conscious. I try to avoid having them change anything about what they’re doing—whether it’s the way they hold a cigarette, how they stand, or even how their shirt is folded. I want to capture their raw essence, and I think that’s why the photos turn out the way they do. People often ask me how I managed to get that raw, unfiltered side of them, especially when they were trying so hard to put up a façade for the camera. Somehow, I just manage to pierce through that.
What artists, moments, or memories inspired the vision behind your latest exhibition, Paris Blues?
As I mention in the book, the ghosts of my heroes really inspired Paris Blues. From Jean Cocteau and Man Ray to Henry Miller, Serge Gainsbourg, Marcel Duchamp and Josephine Baker—these figures were my guiding lights.
Childhood, in many ways, is the main character in this story. The locations I feature in the book are intentional; they represent a return to my roots, places filled with memories. Some of those memories had been long forgotten until I began writing the foreword.
The stream-of-consciousness style of writing unlocked so many of those memories. In fact, it was so vivid that I flew back to Paris this year to photograph the very locations that had resurfaced in my mind. I clocked about 30,000 steps a day, retracing my childhood during a trip this past June. What began as a personal journey unexpectedly turned into a narrative.
The book is divided into chapters, but they’re not strictly defined. I wanted the flow of the book to mirror the rhythm of my life—fashion flowing into flea markets, flea markets leading to rock 'n' roll, late-night walks after a club or concert, and my pilgrimage to Serge Gainsbourg’s home at 5 bis rue de Verneuil, which I describe in the foreword.
There’s also a chapter on the 2018 World Cup, a nod to the Paris Opera, and, of course, a chapter dedicated to the 15 years I spent working with Lenny Kravitz, an artist with whom I’ve spent more time than anyone else in my career. Throughout it all, street photography is woven in, capturing the essence of those moments.
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With Paris Blues, you’re immersing viewers in a side of Paris that many may not have seen. What’s the story you’re telling through this series?
This is a story of passion, nostalgia, fear, dreams, love, self-doubt, and my own journey—from childhood to today, 37 years after leaving France. It’s a story that captures many facets of Paris, some of which the average tourist or admirer may never know. There are hidden alleys not found in popular guidebooks, cobblestone stairs that are easy to miss, and of course, the iconic steps leading to Sacré Coeur.
At its heart, it’s a journey of self-discovery and acceptance. The book features people who have left us but meant so much to me—most recently, Quincy Jones, who passed just a week ago while I was preparing for the Paris Blues exhibition in New York.
The book is also an aural experience. I hear the music in the images, which is why I created a companion soundtrack available on Apple Music. The music is as much a part of the story as the photographs themselves.
Your work often plays with themes of nostalgia and soulfulness. How do you balance looking back while still pushing your art forward?
I think these images have a quality of living in a time machine, traveling both to the past and the future. In many ways, I’ve recreated memories with new photographs. Paris, with all its soulfulness, is something I’m simply capturing. Of course, I believe I have a lot of soul, too. That’s one of the things I love about black-and-white photography—it has this timeless quality. But beyond that, I feel the storytelling in these images is hopeful and full of optimism.
There are also many hidden details in the photos—details that might take years for some viewers to discover. For me, that’s part of pushing my art forward. Since the New York opening, one thing that has stood out is the number of people who’ve told me they feel something when they look at the images. To me, that’s a sign that I’m working toward something.
As someone who grew up between cultures and cities, how has that sense of duality influenced your approach to storytelling in photography?
I feel very fortunate to have been born in Paris, but I feel even more fortunate to have left Paris. There are so many opportunities I dreamt of as a child that I could’ve never realized in Paris. People are very judgmental, and people have been very negative as I started my career. People called me pathological when I talked about things I dreamt of accomplishing. People mocked me and ridiculed me.
It was hard to ignore all those voices and for the longest time I just lived in constant self-doubt, but at a certain point too many dreams were coming true to ignore the gift that was given to me, the gift I climbed mountains to catch.
So, I believe that duality made me who I am. After all, they don’t call it the American dream for nothing.
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You’ve collaborated with some of the most iconic figures in music, fashion, and art. Who’s left on your dream list to photograph, and why?
When it comes to musicians, I've done design work for Jack White and most recently translating lyrics into French for a limited-edition White Stripes featuring Bob Dylan 45—but I’ve yet to properly photograph him, so he’s definitely at the top of my list.
Robert De Niro is another one. I’ve photographed him casually in the past, but I’ve never done a proper portrait. I’d love to do a series of legendary figures in their 80s and 90s. Just recently, I had the privilege of photographing Mel Brooks at home, thanks to Judd Apatow, who’s directing a documentary about him for HBO.
As for newer artists, I absolutely love Billie Eilish—I’d love to photograph her one day. But honestly, at 51, I’ve already photographed most of my heroes, which feels surreal.
In today’s digital age, where everyone has a camera, how do you keep your work distinct and meaningful?
I don’t really pay attention to what other people are doing with their cameras because what I create feels so specific, honest and real to me. There’s a deep heart-and-soul connection with my subjects—whether it's a passerby on the street or someone on the Paris subway. I don’t waste time shooting meaningless things, so my work always feels meaningful. I’m fortunate now to be able to choose the people I work with, but that wasn’t always the case when I was starting out.
That’s another reason why Leica is so amazing. These cameras aren’t easy to use, and I love that challenge. Some models may be more intuitive than others, but when you work with Leica, you become a true connoisseur, a real photographer. I’m not saying this to promote a brand—I’m saying it because it’s the absolute truth.
Many say that black-and-white photography has a timeless quality. Why is monochrome such a prominent choice in your work?
I have said before that I hear music in monochrome, and I see colors in monochrome. I sometimes wish life was monochrome. I do not wish to be colorblind.
I prefer black and white. Period. It is harder to tell when a photograph was taken in black-and-white, and I really strive to make images ageless. Someone at Leica Gallery in New York today asked me if a photo was taken in the 1950s, when I wasn’t even born yet. They didn’t realize I was the artist and assumed it was the work of someone much older. To me, that’s a personal success, my friend.
My publisher teNeues requested that I include color photography in this book. Otherwise, it probably would’ve been all black and white, but I am so glad I listened because the color really adds depth and a certain charisma to the book.
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What’s one piece of advice you’d give to emerging photographers who want to capture the depth you bring to your images?
Don't try to make your work look like someone else's. Create something that's uniquely yours. Find your own voice, find your own groove, connect with the thing that makes your heartbeat faster, listen intently for the music in images, breathe before capturing the moment and anticipate the moment. Do not photograph the moment as the moment has already passed.
Finally, if you could be remembered for a single photograph, which one would it be, and what does it say about you?
As for the Paris Blues collection, there’s a photo of Mark Gonzales, the famous skater, jumping over my topless friend Alexandra in the middle of the night after we’d broken into a skate park. It was a dangerous shot, and so many of my skater friends were shocked to see it displayed at Leica Gallery LA and now at Leica Gallery New York. I’m not just a photographer, but this image might be my favorite in the whole collection.
Yes, the flash blinded Mark. Yes, he kind of knocked himself out. Yes, Alexandra was scared out of her mind. But the truth is, despite all the fear we felt, we put art first and got the shot. That’s what I strive for in my work—pushing through the chaos to capture something real. And I love having my subjects trust me enough to go along with my crazy ideas.
Follow Mathieu Bitton on Instagram and buy his book Paris Blues at teneues.com/en/book/paris-blues. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Photography by: Courtesy of Mathieu Bitton
