There’s much to say about Enzo Lefort. Much has already been told, and just as much has been seen or saved on Instagram. The 1991-born French fencer has certainly passed before your eyes. Whether due to his remarkable sporting achievements—1 gold, 1 silver, and 1 bronze Olympic medal, complemented by 3 world titles and 5 European golds—or due to his multidimensional personality, a universe of interests illuminated by a rare aesthetic sensibility and a refined approach to communication.

Already a Louis Vuitton ambassador and a podcaster, we now isolate another distinctive feature of this Guadeloupean native: his eye, the lens behind his mask. The layered connection between a fencing lunge and the frame of a shot. 

As he makes his way toward the Los Angeles 2028 Olympics, the camera is carving an increasingly essential role in Lefort’s life. Exploring the reasons behind a passion still distant from its full maturity, and its later stages, yet already evolving into a parallel profession, is like advancing along a fencing strip–a ‘piste’–that becomes a metaphor for both life and art. It’s akin to describing a different kind of duel, one inspired by the same foundations and experiences. Parry after Parry. Lunge after lunge. 

EN GARDE. The ‘piste’ encompasses everything. In the moments before the match, the ancient and the modern converge into a single dimension. It anticipates the outcome of human and athletic journeys that began who knows where, who knows how. Even on the islands of the French Antilles, and in the subsequent sports and creative paths that unfold.

“I spent my childhood in Guadeloupe, my parents still live there. I moved to Paris when I was 16. When I was a kid, I was deeply inspired by American culture—listening to dancehall, hip-hop, and rap, especially 50 Cent, wearing oversized polos and baggy pants. When I arrived in Paris, I found myself in a different culture. I was fortunate, as my parents, both educators, taught me to always be open minded. I never let that be altered. I take great pride in this. I chose to embrace the different cultures Paris had to offer, while staying true to myself and to my Caribbean roots. 

Growing up as an elite athlete at INSEP, the French National Institute of Sport, was really formative. But, as I began to achieve sports results, I always feared the ‘precarity’ of my position. It pushed me to stay curious and to nurture a variety of interests. Throughout my career, I was taught to live in the moment, to enter the ‘zone,’ to embrace a mental state that would carry me through the peak of every competition… But then, the competition ends. The big goal, like Paris last summer, gets surpassed. And the risk is not being prepared for what comes next. I graduated in physiotherapy to find relief. Now, I’m cultivating what I’ve grown to love over time: photography, visual communication, and marketing. I’m transitioning towards this new realm of interests, and I’m working on carving out the right progression for my life.”

PRÊTS. In the stillness that precedes the ‘duetto’ of two blades, preparation is the only thing that matters more than the metaphorical will to survive. Training methods, personal style, intuitive depth… Every preceding factor lays the foundation for what is and what will be. Personal connections and biographical milestones included. The same holds true for photography.

“As an athlete, I’ve spent quite a bit of time in front of the camera. I’ve always tried to really get to know the people who photographed me. One of them, Julien Soulier, who is now a close friend, once photographed me with a Hasselblad 500. When I saw the outcome of his shots, I couldn’t explain it to myself. It was beautiful. I was in shock. And I started to research and read. Martin Parr played a decisive role in my photographic education. I’ve also been deeply inspired by the work of Ren Hang, who sadly passed away a few years ago, and I’m always on the lookout for photography books: I’m first drawn to the texture, fonts, and covers, and then I discover what’s inside. A couple of weeks ago, I found an amazing book in Copenhagen—it’s a collection of female mug shots. I keep flipping through it.

My wife is the founder and designer of a jewelry brand, and she started her career as a fashion designer. She’s worked for Louis Vuitton, Balenciaga, Lacoste, and many other brands, so I’ve always recognized and appreciated her understanding of visual communication. I believe she’s played a pivotal role in educating my eye. Even now, she constantly shares fantastic references with me. Having someone to guide you is crucial—skills alone are never enough. I believe you need a broad vision and continuous references, otherwise, you risk creating something irrelevant or out of touch with the times.

When I first started photographing, I used a digital camera, but I was lazy. The digital process didn’t appeal to me. In 2018, I went on vacation to Lanzarote with my wife. She showed me an Olympus mju II, telling me it was the camera from her childhood. So, I grabbed two rolls of Portra 400 and started shooting. Analog photography forces you to limit the number of shots. You have to pay more attention to each composition. The light, the subject, the angle… When I got the print proofs back, I was ecstatic. I thought they weren’t even mine. I could feel the raw, aesthetic power of film. That’s when I fell in love with photography.”

ALLEZ. In the momentum of the pursuit lies everything. The ultimate goal may be the silhouette of an opponent, the intimate composition of a Parisian building, or a fleeting moment of thought. Fencing and photography both transform steps into the unknown into tangible forms. They are complementary yet distinct processes—driven by the ecstasy of inquiry, the frantic pause of discovery, and the answer that follows.

“Fencing taught me to strike at the right moment, at the right place, to surprise your opponent. Photography is similar. You capture a moment that will never come again. That’s the main parallel between the two disciplines. 

Fencing also taught me how to manage nerves, to remain calm. About a year ago, Nike asked me to photograph some French national football players, including Mbappé and Thuram. I had five minutes per player. As often happens in these situations, you can’t waste their time. They were surprised that I only had my analog camera with me. Even though I had little time with the players, I took two minutes to introduce myself, explain that we share the same field, and let them know I expected natural poses. Two shots, and that was it. I wasn’t nervous, not for a second. Fencing, especially in events like the Olympics, becomes a matter of life or death. You think about the millions of people watching and cheering you on… It’s hard to stress over a photo shoot.

On the other hand, photography helps me reconnect after a sports setback. When I fail, I do something different. This process helps me realize that, in the end, it’s just sport, even though it remains an essential pillar of my life. I enjoy taking moments to walk around and find something that inspires me. Photography, unlike fencing, gives you time. In fencing, you’re facing someone who’s eager to beat you. Photography allows you time to think. It is, actually, like fencing, but in a different way: it’s more distant and reflective.

My brain sees something and reacts. In the end, I believe it’s an expression of what I do in life. It’s a process. Much like the one related to analog photography. I usually don’t retouch, but spending time in the darkroom, balancing whites, or witnessing the manual printing process is what I love most about photography. It’s where I feel I have the fullest freedom of expression.”

ATTACK. Dancing on the ‘piste’, the fencer walks the fine line between omnipotence and failure. Their movements are not spontaneous, like the ideal artist, but intentional, like a skilled explorer. Each attack is a visible performance born from both certainty and desire—the certainty of mastery and the desire for a fulfilled destiny. It’s a simple, yet complex, personal quest, a life expression. Like every photograph.

“People sometimes call me an artist. I believe my curiosity has artistic nuances. I’ve always been curious and read a lot. As a child, reading allowed me to escape my little island. I don’t see myself as a full-fledged artist. I know some, and they are complicated people. They think about the meaning of existence. Many don’t show their work until the last moment. Or they don’t show it at all. I often buy stunning photography books, then I search for the photographers on Instagram, and they have a handful of blurry photos or empty websites. I’m not like that. I show what I do. 

I tend not to talk about my photography, because I see it as a spontaneous expression. For sure, Guadeloupe shaped my eyes with all its colors. It surrounded me with vibrant shades of green and painted rooftops. It felt like a contemporary art gallery exhibition, but in real life. Everything was chaotic and orderly, monumental and tiny… Complete. A complicated mix of things. Paris, on the other hand, has been a constant source of stimulation. Beauty is everywhere. It’s easy to be educated by it.

Sport has allowed me to travel the world and improve both my understanding of human beings and my social intelligence. As a pro athlete, I realized that the photographic approach to us is often caricatured. We’re just robots designed to win medals. When I shoot sports, I seek something else. Even if it sounds cliché, I seek a connection. I’ve learned that athletes, for understandable reasons, tend to build protective shields. It’s difficult to get into their personalities, let alone capture them, but I believe it’s the right thing to do.

Shortly after Tokyo, I had my first photographic exhibition. There was a lot of press exposure because I had just won the team gold medal. A journalist asked me if I was nervous about showing my photographs to the world. I wasn’t. I told him I was happy I had taken them. Just like I was happy to publish my first book, where I did everything myself, from A to Z. Fencing is objective. Every morning you check the ranking and know where you stand. On the other hand, art is more subjective. You don’t have the pressure of being the best in the world. I want to reach the best version of my photographic pursuit. As long as I’m proud of what I do, it’s okay.”

TOUCHE. In the touch, everything becomes real. The answer to every question is revealed. The definitive portrait and the chosen shot materialize. The score shifts. And then, the cycle of life begins again and again. A cycle that can only continue to regenerate—and evolve—when placed in the right conditions and environments, where medals and moments captured are one and the same.

“I continue to be myself thanks to my entourage. I’m surrounded by extremely creative people who stay true to themselves. In Paris, everyone wants to shine, everyone wants to be ‘the one’… Sometimes, you feel overwhelmed. I’ve never ‘masked’ myself; I’ve adapted and formed real connections with people I genuinely consider intelligent—creatives who do and don’t show. Thanks to them, I’ve felt at peace with myself and my human side. I’ve also been fortunate to work with many of these friends. It’s been amazing.

At the end of my career, I want to travel and photograph other major metropolitan cities. Right now, photography and artistic projects are taking up more space in my life. They will especially during these months of rehabilitation and recovery from surgery. I’ll have time to develop different projects, always keeping the Los Angeles 2028 Olympics as my primary goal. Before the Paris Games, I had many opportunities, and I couldn’t refuse them. In the near future, I want to slow things down a bit to focus on specific personal projects. I want to take time to reflect more consistently on the things I do and the right steps to take next. And I want to discover much more.”