Bruno.

There's a sound check at Le Molotov that sums up who Bruno is. The band has been waiting three minutes. The singer yells something from the stage — "is it ready or what?" — and Bruno doesn't even look up. His hands are on the desk and he doesn't move. He's listening to how the room responds that night, with those people, with that specific humidity in the air. He raises a finger. Waits two seconds. Brings a fader down, pushes another up. The stage comes to life.

That patience has something of an ambush about it. The praying mantis in the wild can remain motionless for hours waiting for the exact moment to act. Bruno has transferred that quality to his craft without consciously deciding to. He learned as a kid, at age eight, that if he stayed absolutely still in his grandmother's garden, lizards would climb onto his feet. Forty minutes without moving. Stillness as a tool, and he's been using it since — at sound checks, in relationships, in the afternoons he spends sitting on the balcony of his Cours Julien apartment watching the street go by without needing to go down.

Le Molotov is where he did his first FOH mix at twenty-one. He arrived in Marseille at eighteen with a backpack and spent his first years loading gear and rolling cables for minimum wage. The band at that first mix was terrible. The sound was decent. Now, at twenty-seven, he chooses who he works with. Venues with good base acoustics, bands that respect the sound check, promoters who pay on time.

The portrait captures Bruno in his lime-green jacket — an identity piece, always on him, synthetic material, zipper open a third of the way — and a plain white cotton t-shirt underneath. Around his neck, a medium-link chain in matte silver that he hasn't taken off since he was twenty-four. He looks with his head slightly tilted, as if calibrating something you can't hear.

This poster prints that attitude on matte paper. The non-glossy finish absorbs light rather than reflecting it, creating a more contained visual texture than glossy prints. Hung in a studio, a hallway, or across from a desk, you'll see it every time you look up — and Bruno's gaze will be just as focused. In a room with natural light, the matte avoids distracting glare. In a room with artificial light, it holds the greens of the lime jacket and the silver exactly as they are, with no stray shine.

Technical details of paper weight, available sizes and tolerances are in the **Paper and finish** tab. For specific measurements, see **Print sizes**.