Call Out | To encounter |Conversation|Tuesday February 7th at 7:30| Geneva

I take advantage of my birthday to share with you some fragments of this Call In hatching exhibition. I send you some images and “fil de pensée” tunning on the Andata Ritorno Gallery’s floor excerpts. I hope they will make you want to experiment by yourself what to be born could mean.

Before giving you those automatic thoughts, I invite you,Tuesday February 7th, to a conversation about Call Out with  Anne Ansermet, psychoanalyst and myself
We look forward seeing you at 7:30pm  37 rue du Stand 1201 Geneva in the Andata Ritorno Gallery

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The Call In experiment was very clear to me, because it ended 13 years of this creative introspection gestation, and it had a last word to say before opening to something else. I am writing from this elsewhere, an elsewhere at the exact place that seemed a summit for me, when all began. I say all began but I immediately feel that I did not arise from this beginning.  I was given to it experienced and full of other lives. To be born is for sure an uninterrupted process.
 
This place is in every respect different from the one where a book that I will endlessly revisit,  gained closure as it opened. An ocean away, closer and closer to me, as bright as the other is internal. An elsewhere where no print is visible.
 
In this space, that moves nearer, I say the encounter with the other and what may be created from it.
 
I, often, have meet the other, it seems to me that I gave birth to numerous living thoughts, but probably I haven’t let them separate,  thereby maybe were they only dreams.
(…)
We walk into a very small airlock, an entrance on which floor is projected the liberation of the cocoon. But we will not pay attention to it. Especially as in the eyelet an other video shows an other fracture out of a cocoon, violent, the print of the God, falls on a bird’s memory, refusing to be swallowed by memory. If a visitor, maybe because he will have lowered his gaze, perceives the heart swinging movement, he will stay on the threshold of what lies in wait for him. Maybe will he prevent the other visitors to enter or to go out, as he has seen and therefore knows and not to trample what he believes in.
We, so often, cross the borders without noticing, that those which appears seem impassable for we do not have the instructions for use.
(…)
Since,  after all, one had to be born, once more. Face the world, again. Forget about what past lives showed me of its tragic face, without always having me to undergo it. Assume as usual the Candide and innocent role to give a meaning to the fractals chaos, ceaselessly redistributed according to a game nobody knows the rules, and not even God could decide for a winner. Because to perish has no future, I resolved to come out, bearing inside me and in those of my blood an obligation to move the world.
(…)

 

 

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