I arrived in China in 2005 with a secondhand camera, a laptop and a plan to try to make a living from photography within a year. In the end, I spent 12 years in Shanghai, where I managed to earn enough from commercial work to do projects of my own.
When I first spotted people sleeping in public, it completely broke the image I had of China. Like many in the west, I had a preconceived idea of the country as an economic monster and of its people working uncomplainingly, like soldiers. While it was true that people started work early and often put in very long hours, those I saw taking naps in the afternoon looked relaxed rather than exhausted – and the practice seemed to be completely accepted rather than frowned upon, as it might have been in Europe. There was a sense of spontaneity and freshness in it. Whereas westerners might try to combat the afternoon slump with an espresso, in Shanghai people appeared more in tune with the rhythms of their bodies and did what came naturally. I understand the right to nap is part of the Chinese constitution.
The earliest photographs I took of the sleepers were like portraits. It was a kind of game for me to get as near as I could and shoot. Occasionally the click of the shutter would wake the subject, or sometimes they’d be roused by a passerby yelling a warning. I’d have to indicate that I meant no harm: I hated the idea I might look like a contemptuous tourist, whereas actually I felt nothing but affection. Reassured, the subjects often went straight back to sleep.
Soon I realised that the context – the way private and public mixed together – was important, so I started stepping back to get the whole scene. I would play with the composition of the surroundings, too. In one photograph, the image is framed so it looks like a statue has tripped and is falling on to a man napping beneath it. In another, I foregrounded a metal device used to stop cars from parking and made it look like a cradle, the same size as the sleeping figure in the background.
I wanted to be at the same level as the subjects, or even lower, both for the sake of the composition and for psychological reasons – to avoid that sense of looking down on them. Over time, I built up a lot of photographs on this theme and realised I’d unwittingly been shooting a series. I called it Day Dreamers. Looked at as a series, the images became funny, surreal and even sinister. I didn’t see it at the time, but people suggested the day dreamers looked like they might be unconscious or even dead.
This picture was one of the later ones, taken in Shanghai Science and Technology Museum. Unlike most of the others, the sleeper is almost completely hidden. I admire Chinese people’s creativity and pragmatism in solving problems, and I particularly like how that is demonstrated here. The sleeping woman has used a tourist map as a bedsheet, a plastic bag as a pillow, and the umbrella – which she’d have been using to shelter from the summer sun – makes an effective screen. I say “she” despite having never seen the hidden person, but those appear to be women’s shoes. And if you look carefully, you can also see just enough foot to tell its owner is wearing tights.
I tried day dreaming myself, but while I managed to rest in the open, I was never able to sleep deeply – as many of the people in this series clearly are, whether in factories, at desks and worktops, on a propped-up bike or even between two parked cars. I was conditioned to remain alert, and felt too vulnerable to completely relax. I don’t know if the practice is as prevalent now. I sensed it might gradually disappear as part of China’s modernisation. That’s another reason why it felt important to document the day dreamers while I could.
Eric Leleu’s CV
Born: Northern France, 1979
Trained: “Self-taught with freelancing in China; assisting Tina Barney and others; workshops with Gueorgui Pinkhassov and Alec Soth”
Influences: “Henri Cartier-Bresson, Josef Koudelka, Saul Leiter, Gueorgui Pinkhassov and Harry Gruyaert”
High point: “Still to come I hope! But so far, collaborating with the New York Times, or having my first solo show in Shanghai”
Low point: “For the past three years I have been converting a derelict cafe into an arts centre. A good project, but it left me with hardly any time for photography.”
Top tip: “As the French poet René Char said, ‘Impose your chance, hold tight to your happiness and go towards your risk. Looking your way, they’ll follow’.”