All who know of Domaine Faiveley associate it with Nuits-St-Georges, its base for 200 years. It was only after spending a lot of time in the Côte Chalonnaise that I discovered its extensive winery on the edge of Mercurey. Since the 1960s, it has owned vineyards in Mercurey and Rully, bought by Erwan Faiveley’s grandfather Guy after they had proved themselves over a 30-year period of rental under his father Georges. As you leave Rully and its dominating château, heading south by a minor road toward Mercurey, you climb the valley past an expanse of Faiveley vineyards, each identified as “bio Mercurey” on a large stone bearing a brass plaque with its name. An impressive sight and commitment.
I have come to Mercurey in search of a barrel of a small cuvée to shoot, and I’m hoping Jérôme Flous, Faiveley’s technical director and head winemaker, can find time for me to make a few portraits here afterward. We start with priority number one: finding a barrel of Clos du Roi La Favorite. It’s from a small vineyard overlooking the rest of Clos du Roi as you climb toward the glowing landmark of the newly cleaned church at Touches, the hamlet that overlooks the western end of Mercurey’s long avenue of wineries.
It’s not quite like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack to find three or four barrels among three double rows three barrels high and identified only by Faiveley’s discreet labels—but they’re hidden in plain sight, certainly. After a few minutes there is a call from Jérôme, and I set off to locate him and the barrel. It hardly looks worth the trouble, but I shoot it anyway and enquire as to the whereabouts of the vineyard. By now it is time for Jérôme to depart for a meeting, but I manage to convince him I have just the spot for a portrait on the way through the cuverie to the entrance, where north light floods in through large windows.
Jérôme does not suffer from either a desire to please the camera or a hatred of it. He takes minor directions, questions nothing, and understands that the click of the shutter is the expression of the photographer’s discovery of potential rather than an indication that he is close to releasing his subject. Not to be easily satisfied, to be constantly making small adjustments, is recognized and understood as a pursuit of quality, which all good winemakers appreciate—within limits, of course—and sensitivity to those variable limits becomes instinctive. A smile here and there, seriousness, curiosity, pride, warmth, a sideways glance, and energy are all acceptable. But a glance at their watch, and I know it’s all over. Boredom is not the look I’m after. My subject behaves himself well for a few short minutes in one location—it’s all I need, and today it’s all there is time for.
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