Some four thousand Polaroids replace, for Pierre Keller, the diary of ten or fifteen years of his life. They were made in the pulsating New York of the 1970s, where he lived and worked until 1983, on travels in South America and in his home Lavaux. Artists like Nan Goldin, Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Robert Mapplethorpe were his companions. Memories of shared experiences, but also of the deaths of the people in his pictures, dip Keller's photographs in all the colours of the rainbow. They show the whole spectrum of gay life: brown skin, milky flesh, bath houses, cheeky statements and moments of pensive poetry. Unlike Mapplethorpe, Pierre Keller never worked with professional models; he photographed the men where he had followed them, where they had followed him. Always carrying his SX-70, Keller describes photographing as a sexual act — sometimes the two went hand in hand. Self-censorship was never an option; pleasure came first. “Antiporno,” as Jean Tinguely put it, whom Keller admires to this day: pictures for the cinema in the head. But this exuberant abundance found no resonance at the time, when photography was not yet gallery art. In My Colorful Life, Pierre Keller's Polaroids finally come to their deserved fame.