The Solitude of the Horsewoman: An Ode to Freedom

Nolwen and I have been friends since we were teenagers. It was thanks to her family that I discovered contemporary circus and started practicing trapeze. For a while, I was destined to become a trapeze artist . Nolwen and I even had a number together! And then, I changed direction, I became a journalist and soon a documentary filmmaker. I continued, from time to time, to frequent the circus world and that of Nolwen. I have always loved making portraits of her. I had already drawn her, photographed her many times. Having become a director, I wanted to film her and film the circus. But this time it was she who gave the impetus. She wanted us to tell her life story, in the form of a book or a film, it didn't matter. Above all, it was an excellent opportunity for us to get together. I opted for the film. At that time, Nolwen also wanted to create her own show. I quickly understood that this desire for creation in her could constitute the common thread of a documentary. This is how our respective projects – show and documentary – were built together, one thanks to the other and vice versa.

I filmed a lot for three years, forty days in all, like the deluge! I chose to shoot the film alone. For the first time, I was in charge of the image and sound, without a crew. Filming Nolwen and her family in their intimacy would have been more difficult, I think, if I had had to bring others into this relationship between filmmaker and filmed. If only because the filming locations were often as cramped as a caravan! Once the film project was accepted by those who would become the characters, I asked them to speak to the camera as little as possible. This is pretty much the only constraint I put in place, even if being under the eye of a lens for several hours a day can be restrictive in itself. The camera, however, very quickly became an extension of myself, and I think I was able to make people (somewhat) forget it. I discussed the film very often with Nolwen of course and I sometimes did a progress report with the others to make sure that the shooting was going well for everyone. I had to ensure this mutual trust. I made the choice to film the company's shows very little and rarely head-on. On the contrary, I filmed a lot of the rehearsals, the preparations, the backstage times that occupy most of the circus artists' time. It was about telling the artists' point of view and in particular Nolwen's and not the audience's point of view. Depending on the situations and sequences (shows, rehearsals, big top, stables, etc.), for safety reasons, I had to be attentive not only to the frame (my image) but also to my gestures and my own body since I often filmed acrobats on horseback and stallions up close. Other technical constraints, particularly regarding sound recording, were quickly resolved by tinkering.

At the time we began filming, Nolwen was already the mother of two young children. My own son was two years old, and after her, I discovered the joys, but also the frustrations and constraints that motherhood imposes on the professional lives of women, particularly artists. By filming Nolwen and her desire for emancipation through creation, I was recounting our common and trying condition, and in fact that of most women, mothers or not, artists or not. By filming Nolwen, I was also filming her relationship in a patriarchal environment, the company where she was working at the time. Nolwen and her partner, Calou, form an inseparable love duo in the city and on the dance floor. By filming certain aspects of how this duo functions (without necessarily seeking to highlight them), I was showing the male domination at work in this environment and in society in general. I was also filming a slow but sure reversal of the situation: with unfailing stubbornness, Nolwen regains control of her life. This shift occurs incrementally, without any apparent clashes, without any resounding victory either, but with no turning back possible. The male characters are not all ejected from the picture - Calou never ceases to be part of Nolwen's project - some are forced to adapt and do so willingly or unwillingly.

In filming Nolwen, I was also filming her family and all the density and variety of connections that this entails. Filming family—especially when it's not my own—is a delicate matter. I chose to film this reality, and it was impossible for me to betray its complexity. But it is precisely this complexity that provokes profound reflection for me and fuels genuine questioning, even to the point of rebellion.

The distribution of La Solitude de l'écuyère is not yet wide enough to hope for a significant impact, particularly in the artistic community. But Nolwen and I have received many messages from viewers, especially from female viewers touched and inspired by her journey, her courage, her gentleness, her stubbornness. Women far removed from the circus world have recognized themselves in her. That is enough for me to know that this documentary deserves to be seen and shared. I am proud, a collective of women will screen La Solitude de l'écuyère in the Drôme region on the occasion of the presentation of their own project: a residence dedicated to artist mothers and their infants, with the possibility of having the babies looked after for several hours a day. Finally, a creative space adapted to artist mothers of young children! I will tell you more soon... What is also enough to justify the existence of this film is the impact that its production had on its characters and on myself. We all learned a lot from La Solitude de l'écuyère.

Without Nolwen, her friendship, and her willingness to work with me, the film would not exist. After some time of wandering, we agreed on the structure of the film and the direction of the shooting: it would be a question of following the genesis of Nolwen's show, from the idea to the ring, including the writing. There was also the very direct intention of filming Nolwen in her life and at work for the aesthetic force and narrative power of this labor in the closed environment of the family equestrian circus. Within this framework, I was very free. However, the making of the film and its outcome were dependent on the realization of Nolwen's show project. This is how we both carried each other. Nolwen could not afford to leave me in the rut after several years of filming, so she found there an additional motivation to complete her creation. Our discussions, some of which are in the film, also helped give birth to the project. When the film came out, Nolwen's show still existed only as a prototype. For her, it was out of the question not to continue since the documentary suggested a show that would soon be completed. Once again, I believe that the film acted as a spur. And today, not only does Nolwen's show, Métamorphoses, exist and tour to sold-out audiences, but she and Calou have created their own troupe, the Compagnie Lawen. I encourage you to go see Métamorphoses; it's magnificent.


The Solitude of the Equestrian benefited from the talent of at least two other inspiring women: Lucie Moreau, who produced the film, and Karen Benainous, who edited it.

With La Solitude de l'écuyère, I made a film "all by myself." I was obviously very surrounded and supported (I've already mentioned Nolwen, Lucie Moreau, Karen Benainous and many other people are also to be thanked) but for the first time in my career as a director, the (good and bad) directorial choices were my responsibility from A to Z at every moment. I carried and mastered the technical tool (the camera and the microphone). I ensured the intellectual, artistic and physical dimensions of the shoot myself. I didn't go to a specialized school or take any film courses, I'm a self-taught director. La Solitude de l'écuyère was an unparalleled learning experience, both in terms of writing and production and direction. I understood how much I loved filming. There is a current term derived from English that seems appropriate to describe what I learned from this experience: "empowerment."

I have several book and film projects in the works. They're not yet mature enough to discuss them in detail. What I can only say is that, whatever form it takes, my work speaks of emancipation. I don't know if young filmmakers need my advice; experience comes with doing. Here's what I believe is essential when filming people other than yourself: it seems obvious, but it's important to remain very transparent about our intentions and not sacrifice people's privacy for our film. We can talk about consent. In short, we have to agree not to film (everything). This can be very frustrating when our goal is to capture reality live. Yet when the film is made with this intelligence, I think nothing bad can happen. On the contrary.