The paper is a skin/The skin is a Memory… made of scars, nerves, cells which are bridges connecting us to ourselves and interconnecting us with others. I used to be ashamed by my scars, stains and body’s changes. I was trying to hide them. I am not anymore as I know they are telling a story of my life. On my skin, I have maps of all the suns under which I have lived, patterns of my falls, lines to guide me to my treasures and scars to remind me, traces of time. Our skin is what gather us.
Every nerve connected to the spine is like a potential way of introspection. You have to arm yourself with patience to untangle every single link to the way of self-understanding.
In love, the smell of skin is a sign of recognition. I do have an olfactive memory. I am afraid of the disappearance of their smell as it was the first thing I fell in love with. What is remaining when sensitive memory has vanished with death ?
There are some games children like to play…to peel the skin off after sunburn, to peel wallpaper when they pass, to lift caps and open drawers. The skin’s walls is our common memory. Under the coats, not only the past but many stories and secrets.
Jericho’s rose is a dead desert plant whose dry and shrunken shoots enclose fruits containing living seeds. The flower opens itself on contact with water. Its shoots spread and free seeds whose germination gives birth to green plants which, in turn, will start drying and rolling up in order to protect fruits against rodents and birds. According to some beliefs this plant opens itself during Christmas night and his presence is said to help giving birth. As an artist, I always have the will to experiment something new but I often feel down after an exhibition and it leads me sometimes to doubt of my capacity to find new ideas. Then, I need to withdraw to be able to think, conceive and recreate as a chrysalis needs to take its time to come out of his shell and reborn. ‘There is nothing as constant as change’.
Carnivorous plants are fascinating flora, capable of attracting, trapping preys and then assimilating parts or all of it in order to meet its own needs. In the 19th century Karl Litche, a German botanist, published the story of a human sacrificed by a tree, ‘the myth of the anthropophagous tree of Madagascar’. Today, carnivorous plants start to disappear because of human being and pollution. What would happen to us if the nature’s rules were inverted? During some difficult time of my life, the thought that it is better to plough a lonely furrow than to keep bad company sometimes passed through my mind. But everybody knows that it is the fear of the other which led people to think like this even if we can sometimes keep some distrust’s scars of backwinds.
Vodun & Boli
The etymology of voodoo is coming from the linguistic family aja-tado. It means the invisible (voo) world (= doo). More than a religion, voodoo is an art of living, a way to show that we are sensitive to the power under which we are living, respectful of the ancient and of all the people who lived before us. This perspective is aesthetic and poetic, a worldview in itself.
Bone marrow, heart or face transplants, xenogreffes… All this medical and scientific progress never stops. It sometimes makes us dizzy while offering us a few more minutes of life each day. The Man is, at the same time, the biggest danger for he survival of life on earth but also the genius who has extended life of the human being. This duality of life and death is contained in every particle on earth and is probably the most difficult thing to accept but also the only understandable reason of happiness.
I like the idea that everyday objects can really turn into the wildest things after being diverted from their original meaning and form. Here I see a link with the current fight against poaching in Tanzanian natural reserves. As André Breton wrote it, we have the impression that all concerns can loom behind artworks. It only depends on the viewer’s desires and imagination.
Tribute to Camus
Red thread’s typography on wood. « One must imagine Sisyphus happy ». This sentence is the remarked conclusion of a philosophical essay called « The Myth of Sisyphus » from the French author Albert Camus.
For Camus, Sisyphus is personifying the absurdity of human life. The man is a being full of meaning but he never succeed in reaching the essence of things. He has an insatiable quest of meaning, unity, and clarity in the face of an unintelligible world devoid of God and eternal truths or values. Furthermore, he is afraid of death and he will never really manage to catch it, even if he would have wanted it.
So the situation seems to be unsurmountable because there is a contradiction between the desire of human reason and unreasonable world. It is not really the world that is absurd, nor human thought: the absurd arises when the human need to understand the unreasonableness of the world.
Does the realization of the meaningless and absurdity of life necessarily require suicide? For Camus, suicide must be rejected: without man, the absurd cannot exist. The contradiction must be lived; reason and its limits must be acknowledged, without false hope. However, the absurd has to be known but can never be accepted: it requires constant confrontation and revolt. It is only in that state of mind that man can reach a certain kind of peacefull and conscient joy, probably a little bit dull, such a serenity, but a true one. The hope of paradoxical happiness depend on him, despite the monotony of human condition.
Attache-moi & Détache-moi
Typography work made of only one thread such as the Ariane’s one which guide you to your deepest ego. This work is based on a reflexion about the freedom to be truely yourself, to be really congruent at first, then in your relation to one other or the others. Are we obliged to choose to be? Where do I begin to be the one the others would like me to be? Till where shall we accept to meet the projection of their idea on us or to be closed in? Where are the borders, the limits, what can we accept or not ? Till where shall we protect ourselves or share ? Sometimes we are entangled between the desire to belong to and the need to stay independant. Subbtle balance on the threads’edge between the ego and the id.
« There is no more common feeling than the desire to be different » J.P.Sartre.