In an age of virtual images, Gilbert Garcin builds small stagings with next to nothing, glue, scissors, a few humble materials, multiplying winks and diverted references, playing rather than simply amusing himself, since he is both subject and object of his own images, this detour through self becoming a continual return to self. Dressing up as an ever-present character and inventing improbable adventures in surrealist sets, the irrepressible little man keeps laughing at himself, photography becoming "the image of which I am the hero", endlessly renewing a comic illusion in a self-portrait made of simulacra where the photographer watches the photographer who, perhaps, pretends to be a photographer.