Since 2015, L’Œil de Palmer has been watching seeds grow below ground and in curious minds, challenging its strengths and inventing a whole field of expression in which shapes, patterns and passions (whether circles, labyrinths, or infinity itself) echo one another in a thrilling symphony. The foundations are solid; the roots already deep. Today, everyone knows that Château Palmer enthusiastically celebrates photography and the vine, jazz and the written word.

“Every island holds the promise of paradise”
Marie Redon — geographer

Ten years on, the 2025 vintage inaugurated a second editorial season, which has taken on the task of using the next ten years to expand the palette and vision of our world. From now on, our perspective will stretch even further, observing the shifts and changes that excite and stimulate the mind. L’Œil is growing, embracing paths less travelled. From the Gironde estuary to the other end of the Seven Seas, it will archive the astonishing and the resonant, mapping out unique projects and new shores. More than ever, photography will be in pride of place – you can’t have L’Œil without “vision” – driven by figures and styles combining and blending to transmute the world into sensitive, poetic, offbeat narratives.

“Islands represent microcosmos of the wider world”
Paul Cupido — photographer

Is this a work of art? Perhaps. An adventure? Certainly. The free exploration of roads that intrigue, move and inspire us. To Become An Island takes a closer look at insularity and its promises. Nothing could be more natural for a publication crafted on the Médoc peninsula, in the heart of a farm transformed into a laboratory for economic circularity and increasing self-sufficiency. Here, our teams work in islands, ever attentive to the cycle of the seasons and of physical matter, an eye kept constantly on the turning winds.

"Here, more than anywhere else, we are aware of being part of a greater whole”
Gareth Roberts — farmer

‍It is often said that islands are the canaries in the coal mines of climate change, outposts serving as both sentinels and test-sites. But islands are moving, ambivalent, both apart from the world and at its center, idyllic and dangerous, picture-postcard fantasies and philosophical challenges. They sometimes offer new avenues of exploration, from the scientific to the personal, offering a moment of fertile withdrawal from which a form of utopia may spring. Whether the art-islands of Japan, renewable energy pioneers in Scotland, dark sky sanctuaries, or symbols, each of us must invent our own islands, guide their transformation, and resist uniformization by creating our own spaces – both singular and collective, independent and open to the world.

“We were a crew striving to achieve something”
‍Memory of an “îlout”