Jérémy Lempin is a documentary photographer.

Born in 1983 in the north of France, he has for several years been building a body of photographic work attentive to what our society pushes to the margins, leaves unspoken, or struggles to confront directly. His work unfolds over the long term and develops in the closest proximity to people, within a relationship grounded in listening, trust, and patient presence. His photography seeks less to demonstrate than to reveal, less to underline than to bring into view.

Trained in photography from an early age, he later extended this way of seeing within the military institution, before stepping away from it to develop a more personal documentary voice. From this trajectory he has retained a rigor and a feel for the field, but also a lasting attentiveness to closed worlds, to zones of silence, to lives marked by hardship, dignity, and invisibility.

This thread runs through his entire career. He first photographed worlds shaped by commitment, tension, and collective belonging — legionnaires, the Paris firefighters, ultra football supporters — before gradually shifting his gaze toward more inward, more silent realities that are no less revealing of our time.

With Docteur Peyo et Mister Hassen, devoted to the presence of a horse in a palliative care unit alongside patients with cancer, he reaches a form of decisive maturity. This profoundly human project examines fragility, presence, care, and what is at stake in life's final moments.

With Aux armes et caetera, devoted to post-traumatic stress, he focuses not only on former soldiers but also on the families who live with them, the loved ones who share in the suffering, the waiting, the silences, and the attempts at rebuilding.

Then, with L'École de la vie : liberté, égalité, invisibilité, he turns to another form of everyday hindrance: living, working, raising one's children, and finding one's way through the administrative and social world when reading and writing do not come easily. From one project to the next, his work explores not so much categories as ways of living with hardship, loss, or the invisible.