As we continued our conversation, he shared one of his most surreal experiences behind the camera, which took place during Madagascar’s presidential elections in 2012. For nearly a week, the photographer kept hearing about a massive swarm of locusts moving across the country. Fascinated by the idea, he became obsessed with finding it and drove for days in a 4x4, crossing half of Madagascar in pursuit. “When I finally found the swarm, I stepped out of the car – and suddenly I was inside an immense cloud of locusts,” he recalls. “For fifteen minutes, the sky was alive, darkened by millions of wings beating all around me. It was overwhelming, almost apocalyptic, and at the same time strangely beautiful. Time felt suspended. That moment will never leave my memory, and my photographs from that day are a reminder of how surreal and powerful nature can be.”
When asked about recurring themes in his photography, Stéphane explained that his process is less about searching for something specific and more about being open to what moves him in the moment. “I’m waiting for something to hit me, almost like a spark. Often it’s about human connection: a touch, a glance, two people in an embrace. For example, lovers fascinate me — not only because of their intimacy, but because of the way the world reacts to them. Sometimes it’s tenderness, sometimes surprise, sometimes judgment. I love those contrasts.
I’m also very sensitive to energy and rhythm in the street. The way light cuts through buildings, the way colors clash or harmonize, the choreography of strangers crossing paths. For me, photography is a dance: I step into a scene, and I try to catch the beat of it.”
Kyndt continued: “If I had to summarize, I’d say I’m always chasing layers of life– not just the subject, but everything orbiting around it. A photograph becomes interesting to me when it holds multiple stories at once, when it feels alive beyond the single instant it represents.
That’s probably why I’m in love with color, too. Color adds another layer of meaning, it makes the ordinary vibrate. I like to get close, to feel the pulse of the people I photograph, and color gives that pulse a voice.
So the recurring subject in my work isn’t one type of person or place – it’s the search for those small collisions where intimacy, energy, and contrast come together.”
Over years of walking with his camera, one of the biggest lessons Stéphane has learned is to let go of expectations and trust the streets to surprise him. “Life is always ahead of you,” he reflects. “You think you know what you’re looking for, but the street will always surprise you with something else. That’s why I’ve learned to stay open, to walk without a plan, and to let instinct guide me more than intention.
Street photography has taught me patience – the ability to wait, to watch, to breathe with the city until something unfolds. It has also taught me humility: you can walk for hours and come back with nothing, and then in the space of a few seconds, everything aligns and you capture an image that you like."
Street photography has also taught me to slow down. In a world that moves quickly, the camera gives me an excuse to stop, to observe, and to listen with my eyes. Even when I come home without a single good photo, I still feel I’ve learned something by paying attention.
So, the street has taught me to value presence — to be there, fully, without expectation. Because the best photographs are rarely the ones you were chasing; they’re the ones you almost missed, until you opened your eyes a little wider.”
Finally, the photographer added: “The street has also taught me to welcome imperfection.
Some frames are messy, unpredictable, or incomplete — but that’s also what makes them real. The photograph becomes less about perfection and more about presence, about catching a fragment of life before it disappears forever.”
