Hi Antoine, it’s a pleasure to have this little chat with you. I’ve been following your work for a while and I’m always struck by your sensitivity, both in your photography and in the way you talk about your relationship with the bicycle. I know you work as an independent photographer and also as a mechanic at Hors Catégorie – L’Atelier, which seems like a place with a strong soul and a real sense of community. Let’s start from there. Tell me a bit about yourself. And how did your passion for bicycles and photography begin? I’m always curious about how it all starts, whether it’s something from childhood or something that came later through a meaningful encounter.
Hey Emanuele! It’s a pleasure to have this conversation with you. My name is Antoine Willemart, and I live in Brussels. I work part-time as a bike mechanic, while also developing the professional side of freelance photography. It all started back in 2016, when I was attending art school in Brussels. I was living outside the city, and every morning I had to take a 1h30 bus ride just to cover 13 km. It was super frustrating, so I started looking for alternatives. While browsing bikes online, I stumbled upon the fixed gear scene — and I was instantly hooked.
From there, everything just clicked into place: bike deliveries, alleycats, getting into bike mechanics… I discovered a real community, a vibrant culture around urban cycling in Brussels. On my end, I had already been shooting film photography for a while, so naturally, the two passions started to overlap. I’ve built up quite a bit of film archives from that time. Those years had a huge impact on me, both on a personal and visual level.
“Photography transforms memory. Where memory can be blurry or fragmented, I’ve got these visual records — sorted, organized, ready to revisit anytime.”
How did you end up working at Hors Catégorie? I find it fascinating that you have this dual role, one side being the hands-on technical care of bikes, the other being the creative and observant eye of a photographer. What kind of balance do you find between the two?
A few years after I got into photography and bikes, while I was dropping out of art school (studying photography), I got a call from François OAB — the founder of the courier company Hush Rush. His bike courier hadn’t woken up, and he asked if I could jump in and start delivering the day after.
After years of delivering food, I was finally going to have real full days on the bike, with all kinds of jobs: urgent envelopes, big boxes — all loaded up on an Omnium cargo. For me, it was a dream come true. And honestly, a real stroke of luck too, because if I was leaving school, I needed to work to pay my rent.
Hush Rush was kind of the beating heart of the bike messenger community in Brussels. They organized alleycats, exhibitions, parties… There was a whole culture around the bike. And connected to that structure, there was a workshop: Vélo SOS, run by Flo (who now manages the current HC workshop). That’s where I met him. I was young and kind of intimidated by him, but he gave me a shot: one day a week in the workshop, even though I barely knew anything back then.
Six months later, I had left art school and started an official bike mechanics course — with Flo as my evening class teacher. I stayed there for two months before landing my first job in a bike shop in Brussels, where I ended up working for four years.
Then, when I decided to move on, Flo told me about his idea to create a real independent shop, focused on bikepacking, custom builds from old MTBs, and always with that same desire to keep a community alive around the bike. That’s how I joined the Hors Catégorie adventure.
Today, I’ve found a pretty natural balance between mechanics and photography. The workshop is hands-on, focused, concrete work. Photography is more distant, more contemplative. One feeds the other: the precision of mechanics helps ground me, while photography lets me stay sensitive — to document what’s around me, the people, the movements, the bikes, all the little details you don’t always notice. I feel really lucky to have crossed paths with them — I’m where I am today largely thanks to them. (Merci François and Flo <3)
I’m passionate about photography too, and I always bring a camera when I travel by bike. How do you experience the connection between cycling and photography? Do you go out with a specific image in mind, or do you let the road surprise you?
Not really. I rarely have a clear image in mind before heading out — whether it’s for a ride or a trip. I carry my camera with me almost all the time, and I just let myself be surprised by whatever comes my way: a certain light, a mood, a face, a situation. I press the shutter when something feels right, true, or just beautiful.
This photo, for example, sums up that approach pretty well. It was during our last trip, in the Black Forest. After four days, I felt like none of my shots really captured the essence of the place. Then one morning, we woke up to this incredible fog, after spending the night in a shelter. It was quiet, thick, all-encompassing — exactly what I’d been waiting for without knowing it. The photo is barely edited: it’s just what I saw in front of me.
I’ve always photographed what’s around me, in the moment. What I love about that approach is how photography transforms memory. Where memory can be blurry or fragmented, I’ve got these visual records — sorted, organized, ready to revisit anytime. And each photo pulls me back into a mood, a forgotten detail, a certain mindset.
With cycling, there’s also a whole aesthetic that really speaks to me. I love natural atmospheres, faces marked by effort, camp scenes. But also the more technical details: custom builds, components, bikepacking gear. There’s a real beauty in all of that — a kind of mechanical poetry that moves me just as much as the landscape does.
What kind of photography gear do you usually carry? And is there a time of day you love most for shooting?
Personally, I’m a big fan of sunset light, those in-between moments where everything feels more real.
I always try to keep a minimal setup when I’m on the bike, so I can pull out the camera at any moment without it becoming a hassle. My main body is a Fuji X-E4, with a 27mm f/2.8. It’s light, compact, discreet, and super versatile — it fits in a small hip pouch and never slows me down.
When I’m in the mood for a bit more creative freedom, I’ll also bring the 23mm f/2 and the 35mm f/1.4. The 23mm is great for landscapes, atmospheres, more open compositions. The 35mm lets me shoot more expressive portraits, or cleaner gear shots — almost like packshots.
As for light, I’d say I naturally love early mornings and golden hour. The light’s softer, warmer — it instantly brings this almost magical atmosphere, like that foggy morning in the Black Forest I mentioned.
But what I feel the most, honestly, is the struggle of shooting in harsh summer light, when the sun is high and intense, especially during midday. On the flip side, I love shooting black and white on grey days. Sure, the colors fade, but there’s a softness in the contrast that gives the image a kind of quiet subtlety.
“What I’m looking for now, beyond the image, is that suspended moment. When everything goes silent — that’s the breath of fresh air I come looking for on the bike.”
Tell me a bit about Brussels. What’s it like living and riding there? Are there any local routes you love, maybe just outside the city, that you’d recommend?
Brussels is a nice place to live, and I really think there’s something for everyone — whether you’re into culture, nightlife, or sports. Sure, our winters are long and often grey, but the city stays lively, with tons of events, places to explore, and a real social scene.
What I really appreciate is how close nature is. From my place, it only takes about 15 minutes by bike to reach the Sonian Forest. And with the trains, you can be at the seaside or in the Ardennes within an hour — perfect terrain for bikepacking, super varied and a real change of scenery.
The bike scene in Brussels is pretty big, even if it’s a bit scattered. You really feel it when we organize “slow rides” with the workshop — sometimes we get up to 60 people showing up. There’s a real community out there, just waiting for an excuse to come together around bikes.
A few years ago, there were basically no cycling infrastructures at all — it was kind of an urban jungle, not exactly welcoming for beginners. But for us, it was a playground. We’d ride fixed gear bikes through the city, full speed in traffic, kind of like we were in New York. That raw, chaotic side was part of the charm too.
Today, things are slowly evolving. And even with its flaws, Brussels is still a city that feels good to ride in.
Was there a ride or a trip that really stayed with you, something you’ll never forget? Not necessarily for the distance, but for what you felt or discovered along the way.
Probably the Grande Traversée du Jura. It was our very first real MTB bikepacking trip, and I did it with my friend Antoine V. It was the first time we felt so far away from everything, so deeply immersed in nature — just us, our bikes, and the bare essentials.
We crossed incredibly varied landscapes, slept outside, discovered pine liqueur… it was also our first time experiencing a proper “hike-a-bike.” And we laughed, shared quiet moments, and took our time.
That trip really sparked it all: the urge to go on more adventures like that, but also the need to document them, to tell those stories through my images. That’s when photography became, for me, a way to extend the journey.
What are you looking for when you get on your bike? Freedom, silence, rhythm, connection? Or maybe it has changed over time, and now you ride for different reasons than when you started.
At first, I started cycling just to avoid taking the bus — to get around faster, to be free with my schedule. Then I discovered fixed gear, riding brakeless, and that rush of adrenaline weaving through traffic. It felt almost like a game.
But at some point, everything shifted. I realized the bike could take me much further — that it could open the door to nature, allow me to get away, to slow down, to fully immerse myself.
What I’m looking for now, beyond the image, is that suspended moment. When you reach an unexpected viewpoint, or a remote corner of the forest, and everything goes silent. That calm, out of time, far from the city — that’s the breath of fresh air I come looking for on the bike.
As a photographer, what kind of scenes move you most when you’re out riding? Faces, landscapes, small details… what makes you stop, take off your gloves, and pull out the camera?
I’m used to shooting a lot — pretty much anything that catches my eye — and then only keeping a few images afterward. Around Brussels, I rarely shoot landscapes, since there isn’t much elevation, and not many striking viewpoints. When I ride alone, I might stop for a house, a strange-looking tree, or a path lit in a particular way.
But if I’m honest, what inspires me the most are the people around me. My friends, my girlfriend, my family — they’re the ones I admire, and they’re the ones I photograph the most. I’d say 80% of my images are dedicated to them: their portraits, their gestures, quiet details I catch… They’re used to seeing me with a camera, so I think they all feel pretty comfortable in front of it.
I always try to stay discreet, to capture the most genuine, spontaneous moments possible. And I often tell myself that if I wasn’t this well surrounded, my images probably wouldn’t hold the same value.
Do you have any dreams related to bikes or photography? A project, a trip, maybe a book or an exhibition? I always like to think that those who ride carry not just a destination, but also an idea.
My dream would be to make a full living from photography, while keeping that strong connection with cycling. Slowly but surely, it’s starting to take shape. I’d love to collaborate with brands, teams, and projects that resonate with me, while continuing to develop my own aesthetic and visual universe.
I don’t want to rush things. I’m moving at my own pace, learning from each new experience. That’s also why I keep working as a bike mechanic — it’s a balance, and I’m lucky to do it in a workshop that really means something to me, surrounded by people I respect.
As long as I can keep creating images, riding, and being part of a community that shares those values… I’m already living a little bit of that dream.
Thanks for the chat, Antoine, it was really nice to hear more about your journey and how you combine bikes and photography in such a thoughtful way. I’m sure people will enjoy discovering more of what you do, and for those curious to see how your adventures unfold, your YouTube channel is a good place to start: https://www.youtube.com/@antoinewlmrt
