The series “Carnet d’Amérique” stems from a compilation of nearly 360 images taken throughout  the year 2023, equating to one roll of 35mm film per month.
“I’ve just returned from a year spent in Montreal, my suitcase overflowing with memories, objects, and images. It was essential for me, as a way of putting a final punctuation mark on this adventure, to showcase my photos and let them live a little longer, together.
I tried to capture the beauty of North American cities while delving into the daily lives of the inhabitants and searching for my own place within them. I drew inspiration from images rooted in our collective imagination and cinematic clichés. I played with framings, colors, and contrasts, using black and white as a tradition of archival and documentary style.”

(Caroline Le Com)

Staying stylish even in the snow, Montreal, analog photography, February 2023. 

On a cold February morning, taking a photo is complicated. I have to take my hands out of my pockets, re- move my gloves, and face the -15°C weather. The light is incredible, illuminating everything with the snow. And there’s this man in front of me, straight out of a movie. The cold doesn’t bother him; on the contrary, he seems made for it. I quicken my pace and almost slip in the snow, which is already turning into “slosh” under the sun. I try to frame the shot and click the shutter. I wonder where he’s going like that, without gloves.

The beauty of convenience stores, Montreal, analog photography, February 2023

Convenience stores are to Montreal what grocery stores are to Paris: abundant, essential, and beautiful.

Outremont, Montreal, analog photography, March 2023

Outremont and Mile End are neighborhoods where many Orthodox Jews have settled. Everything is photo- genic. I try to take my photo without being seen, without disturbing. Because with the Rialto  Theatre sign, the children, and the shadow of the tree, the image is perfect.  I click the shutter.

A break, a cigarette, New York City, analog photography, April 2023

We took the train from Montreal’s Central Station to New York. We traveled for 11 hours and saw the beauty of Lake Champlain before meeting up with friends. Sunday noon, they take us to lunch in Chinatown.  It’s mid-afternoon, two cooks take a break after their shift. They’ve seen me, they don’t say anything, they almost pose just for me.

The lookout, New York City, analog photography, April 2023

This morning Titi stayed at home to work. Our schedule is vague. New York makes my head spin; it’s a bit too big for me. We take the subway, and a man is sitting on his chair in front of the entrance. The watcher of Street-Lowery, half-shadow, half-sun, he’s waiting, for who knows what.

Snack time, New York City, analog photography, April 2023

Sunday. We’re all armed, the camera around our necks ready to shoot. We stroll between Broome Street and Broadway.  In the hustle of the street, a little girl eats her ice cream for her snack.

Square players, New York City, analog photography, April 2023

Columbus Park in Chinatown. It’s Sunday, men are playing xiangqi, a Chinese strategy game, betting a few dollars. While women prefer cards. In the distance, a singer is accompanied by a musician. 

Sunday Softball, Montreal, analog photography, June 2023

In the summer, Montreal parks become an institution. Quebecers love spending their weekends there. We’ve adopted the habit of going to watch the softball teams compete.  And then there’s this gentleman, he’s there every Sunday, never missing a game of the season.

The guardian, Montreal, analog photography, August 2023

Rosemont Boulevard, where the houses are dreary. This afternoon, we took our bikes determined to explore the Masson neighborhood, where gentrification has almost not yet taken hold. On the way, a dog catches my attention, I slow down. I notice that he’s guarding a “condo” which contrasts with the Plateau residents’ habit of mowing their lawn to the nearest millimeter. I pass by the first time, I click, the dog says nothing, I pass by a second time, I wait for his gaze, I click again. The dog hasn’t moved, his owner is sitting a little further away, a beer in hand, he hardly noticed me. It’s 3 pm.

Free Pool, Montreal, analog photography, August 2023

Titi and Clément left the Big Apple to visit us in Montreal. They’re here for the weekend. Simon sold them on the dive bar in our neighborhood: free pool and cheap bowling. It’s Sunday, we’ve ordered a beer or two, playing cards, laughing a little too loudly. We’re almost alone in the bar, a lady in the back is feeding dollars into the slot machine. Here, we write the menu on sheets of paper that we hang on the wall, and it’s just fine

Super Laundry, Montreal, analog photography, August 2023

The day is going to be hot. With Simon, we left at 9 a.m. this morning. We took our bikes towards Côte-Vertu, the terminus of the orange line.  It’s not the end of the island, but we’re getting close.  Located not far from the international airport, it’s worth knowing that a plane flies over the neighborhood about every 10 minutes: Air France, Air Canada, Air Transat… We have fun guessing which will be the next airline.  It’s almost noon, and we spotted a café for “lunch.” On the way, I see this woman waiting for her machine to finish. There’s the reflection of the street in the window. I find her beautiful. I click the shutter, once, twice, to make sure I capture the image. She didn’t notice anything.

Feet in the water, Magog, analog photography, October 2023

A morning in Magog in the Eastern Townships. Indian summer keeps stretching on. It’s way too hot for October. With Simon, we brought our swimsuits and towels determined to take a dip in the lake.  On the other side, across the water, it’s the United States. The light is sublime, the regulars have laid out their towels and are already in the water. The dog patiently waits for his master. He doesn’t take his eyes off him, ready to come to his rescue.

Bell, Bell, Bell, Montreal, analog photography, October 2023

October 22. We returned the keys to the apartment and weighed our two suitcases again. Yoann came to pick us up. He drove like a maniac and dropped us off at YUL. We checked in our luggage, grabbed a bite to eat, and tipped our last dollars. It’s time to head to the boarding area, and I pass by the phone booths one last time. They’re beautiful (belles in french). I laugh inwardly at the pun, I click. It will be my last Canadian photo, the adventure ends here.


Born in 1995, Caroline Le Com lives and works in Paris. Her photographic work explores the boundary between the intimate and the universal. She captures the fleeting moments of everyday life and weaves them into autobiographical narratives.

As a photographer of reality and truth, she chooses authenticity and timelessness in her compositions.
Her photographic study of daily life reveals the traces of time left on bodies and places. Caroline considers photography to be the memory of sight and emotions.
« Taking a photo is always a somewhat special moment for me: a mix of fear, excitement, and joy.
Once the camera has clicked, I have time to imagine the image, to fantasize about it. Sometimes I forget it and rediscover it during development. Often, nothing is perfect, nor as I had envisioned it; everything is just magic, surprise, or disappointment. But when I look at the photo, everything comes back to me: the light, the sound, the heat, the smells. The image makes me relive the scene forever and etches it into my memory for eternity. »
IG: @carolinelecom




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