The photographic works of Eric Poitevin (1961) – always called Untitled – are silent. Although they are representations of reality, they are often considered as “abstract”, but their author does not affirm this. They summon no narrative, nor do they follow any particular system other than that of a rigorous composition. And moreover, they relate – their language is that of images. No reference changes their perception, no information, which would be reassuring but superfluous to it, intervenes between them and the visitor. Denuded images, they confront the eye with things which are laughable or even banal. The rare allusions to art history remain vague, without a precise design. In the manner of autumnal morning landscapes, they seem to hide any possible discoveries through the mist but the impossibility of piercing the surface plays with the eye like a mirror effect.