The Weisshorn, valiant and titanic, withstands the force of the winds that batter the Valais Alps. Edward Whymper, the first mountaineer to set foot on the summit of the Matterhorn, said of the Weisshorn that it was even more beautiful than the Matterhorn itself. And I couldn't agree more. I took this black-and-white photograph in the dead of winter. As the storm rages, a few high summits emerge from the clouds. The Dent Blanche, on the left, echoes the might of the Weisshorn, triumphant hero of the chaos engulfing the world. Chanting their victory, the mountains answer each other and point skyward. In the same élan of lines, in the repetition of forms.

The North Face of the Weisshorn reveals its striking verticality. A vertiginous couloir that steep skiers descend in spring. On the right, the mountain's north ridge lurks in the shadows, while its summit holds up its frosted cross as a sign of victory. To the left, the Weisshorn's normal route invites us on a journey, unfurling its sumptuous textures. A masterpiece of abstraction. The wind clings to the sides of the mountain, caressing its walls and sweeping its snow with vehemence. It sculpts the new contours of its snowy muse before our very eyes.

I love the strength of this angle, which highlights the grandeur of this creature from another world. A Himalayan giant that nothing can constrain. That's what my Alpine photography is all about. To bear witness to supreme grandeur. Of these colossi beside whom we are nothing. Rock against dust. And to capture the beauty of these jewels of the Alps, now threatened by our own thoughtlessness. To immortalize the bleached mountains and their gleaming glaciers before they change their appearance forever.