Camille Charlier began photography through media and communications studies, first with a bulky DSLR and later with film. Analogue photography became a more committed part of her life four or five years ago, and her camera now follows her through cities, architecture, street life and the small everyday moments she shares with people close to her.
For a long time, travel made photography feel easy. Berlin was harder. Then she started carrying the camera more often at home.
The Hong Kong roll that went wrong
In 2024, Charlier travelled to Hong Kong with a black-and-white film. The city gave her everything she wanted to photograph: dense architecture, streets, fast movement, food, culture and an intense mix of modern and traditional environments.
Then the film came back.
The point-and-shoot camera had an autofocus problem. Many photographs were soft or focused somewhere other than where Charlier intended. Her first reaction was disappointment. Later, she returned to the roll and tried to stop comparing the images with the photographs she had imagined before seeing them.
“I just tried to let go of what I imagined they would look like before seeing them.”
That change of perspective transformed the roll. In one frame, a man watching a football game was supposed to be the focus. Instead, the camera focused on the wall of skyscrapers behind him. The technical error shifted the photograph’s meaning, emphasizing the dense, almost claustrophobic urban environment surrounding the court.
What looked like failure became a different picture.
Learning to photograph home
Back in Berlin, Charlier has been making a conscious effort to carry her camera through ordinary days rather than waiting for travel to give her a reason to photograph. She notices more corners, shapes, light and moments with friends. Sometimes she makes the picture; sometimes the camera simply makes her notice.
That change has not made Berlin more exotic. It has made the familiar more visible.
Why portraits feel vulnerable
Portraits are often the photographs Charlier returns to most, even though making them feels harder than photographing buildings or streets. For her, portraiture carries vulnerability on both sides of the camera. The person being photographed may not know how to pose or whether they will like themselves in the image. The photographer has to respond in real time, guide without over-controlling and recognise when something genuine appears.
“I would want them to see why I found that exact moment worth photographing.”
When someone sees a portrait she made, Charlier hopes they recognise the beauty she saw — not only physical appearance, but confidence, atmosphere, gesture or the activity happening in that moment.
Unexpected pictures, remembered moments
Her relationship with film is increasingly tied to this acceptance of surprise. An image can be technically imperfect and still become a favourite. A camera can misfocus and accidentally strengthen the photograph. A familiar city can become photographable again simply because you decide to pay closer attention.
Charlier wants to move further into portraiture, including photographing strangers and people very close to her. Both would require stepping outside established habits. That challenge is part of what attracts her: the possibility that a photograph can become meaningful not because it matches the plan, but because it reveals something the plan could not predict.
Developing Stories is a Berlin Photo Studio editorial series about the people, memories and lives behind the photographs we encounter.
