Vehicles and military ships, space shuttles, trains, theaters, stadiums, prisons, castles, ghost towns, historical structures of every kind… For twelve years, Dimitri Bourriau, also known as Jahz Design, has documented these endangered architectures. A graphic designer by training who worked in various fields including fashion, he began photography in 2013.
“I’ve always been passionate about history and books,” he explains. “I was drawn to images that explored places around the world, mostly abandoned. Photography came afterward, through these books, but I already had a fascination for these types of structures. I first started searching for similar places around my region, near Nantes. That’s when I discovered an old orphanage abandoned for about thirty years. Then my vision expanded as I traveled.”
Preserving traces
Since then, he has traveled the world in search of architectural remnants, bringing together two passions that have become a vocation: preserving the traces of civilization and of a past in motion. “Postcards played an important role in my work. Those images of churches or castles immortalized places that once existed. I love returning to that era when photographs were kept as the only tangible memory.”
His first exploration took place in the former naval cemetery of Landévennec, on the Crozon peninsula in Brittany. He photographed around 15 abandoned military vessels in a silent, empty setting. “I photographed the Colbert cruiser, almost 200 meters long. That day, I slept under the ship to capture photos at sunrise. What struck me was experiencing a place frozen in time, without constraints — like visiting a museum without a guide or paths on the floor. There were no restrictions, no fences. To get there, you simply took an inflatable boat and rowed for a few minutes to climb aboard. It was fascinating to understand how an abandoned space could function.”
Chasing information
Low angles and high angles, depth of field, perspective play, patterns and symmetry, intense and crisp colors, often clear skies with occasional mist effects… His long-term series never truly end; they remain in perpetual evolution. Bourriau works across multiple themes depending on the countries he visits. “It allows me to optimize my travels. Germany has many old ballrooms, for example. Georgia offers more sanatoriums or Soviet palaces of culture. Greece is full of shipwrecks and trains.”
An Irix ambassador since 2018, he also favors ultra-wide-angle lenses. “They allow me to capture these expansive views that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.” His inspirations often come from current events, the press, cinema, photography, and art. “I discovered the grand Cervantes Theater in Tangier, Morocco, through an article, and on a whim, I booked a plane ticket. I also went to Malta after watching Midnight Express [Alan Parker, 1978], which had just been added to Netflix. I wanted to see that former British fort used as the film’s shooting location. Today, the interiors are still in the same state. I also tracked down the shipwreck from The Big Blue [Luc Besson, 1988] in Greece, but didn’t take photos — it’s less photogenic than in the film.”
The scars of Eastern Europe
In one of his signature series, he documents the Soviet Buran space shuttle program in Baikonur, Kazakhstan — a project that earned him the Drone Photo Awards at the Siena International Photo Awards (SIPA Contest) in 2020. The history of Eastern Europe is one of his favored subjects, from Soviet space exploration and rocket construction to architectural gigantism. “I photographed a massive former sanatorium. We don’t build structures like that anymore — they were part of Soviet propaganda meant to demonstrate its power. What is happening today stems from that period.”
His Baikonur project — the world’s first and largest cosmodrome — reads like an espionage film. Of the twenty images he captured, he saved only three from one of the two hangars housing two Soviet shuttles since the fall of the USSR. Six months of preparation were required to enter this Russian military zone spanning over 5,000 km². He also had to find a local contact, “a Kazakh-Russian driver,” to get him close to the base. With two colleagues, he embarked on a 12-hour, 25-km trek during the winter of 2019.
Carrying a 35-kg backpack filled with water and food, he crossed the desert autonomously for three days. “Russian army patrols passed every night; we had to avoid them and hide. But one of my colleagues was spotted by a soldier, and we ended up at the Baikonur station for an interrogation that lasted more than ten hours by Russian authorities, who quickly assumed we were spies.” Cameras, GPS devices, phones, email accounts and passwords — everything was confiscated. “They deleted all my photos, but I managed to switch my memory card just in time, because I felt the army was about to enter the hangar.”
Architectural upheavals
History has always reshaped urban, sociopolitical, and cultural landscapes. Through his images, Bourriau sheds light on these transformations and on “the ephemerality of our heritage” and the passing of time. “Even when a photo is taken, I keep track of potential changes to the places. Sometimes I’m surprised to discover they’ve been renovated.”
In June 2025, he traveled to Georgia for twelve days to photograph former Lenin statues. “The government has partly shifted toward a pro-Russian stance,” he notes. “Since the beginning of the war in Ukraine, former Soviet countries are divided between the nostalgic and those who want no further ties with Russia. That’s the case in Latvia and Lithuania, which demolished more than a thousand monuments and symbols. Georgia is equally divided. Some structures I photographed no longer exist, while others have been restored and put back on public display. In Germany, I faced a similar situation. While photographing a Lenin statue, the German communist party — made up of Leninists and Maoists from the former GDR — tried to recruit me. It’s important for me to photograph the upheavals of a past that disappears, returns, renews itself, and fades again.”
Theaters of the living
This November, Bourriau marks a new milestone with the release of his very first book, published by Jonglez, featuring around fifty active theaters in Île-de-France region. The project began during the Covid pandemic in 2021, at a time when travel had come to a halt. “Many theaters weren’t designed from the same perspectives or angles. The last one I photographed, Théâtre Daunou in the 2nd arrondissement of Paris, is the only one painted blue. Renovations had just finished after six years of closure. I had to remove the protective covers from every seat to take the photos.”
The book also includes a selection of cinemas that became theaters — or theaters that became cinemas. “Théâtre Antoine still has a projection room with an old projector. Le Trianon and La Cigale have become concert venues. I want to show places in Paris that people don’t necessarily know. The best-known theaters aren’t always the most visually striking. Many small theaters are incredibly beautiful.”
To bring coherence to the series, Bourriau chose to show a main image from the same angle, full-page, along with additional images detailing the architecture of each venue as it evolves and transforms. The book includes texts recounting their history. “As with all my other projects, some buildings were abandoned, then renovated, and are active again. Some will close one day, others will reopen or expand for yet another new life…”
Théâtres parisiens, lieux d’exception (Parisian theaters, exceptional venues) by Dimitri Bourriau is available from Éditions Jonglez for €39.95. More information can be found on the photographer’s official website and Instagram.
