Lignes de vie

A promenade through the ages of life, time and space through six genealogical trees
Séparation histoires

Passages à l’âme

Unique, from past lives and stories, we come to the world to offer this unknown
Séparation histoires

Décrocher la lune

Exploring the strangers within ourselves
Séparation histoires
Autoportrait a la lune
Carnet recherche lune
Lunes
2014 - Installation
Lune Argent sur papier blanc 1
détail
Lune blanc sur papier blanc 1
détail
lune noire crayon noir sur papier noir 1
Lune noire stylo noir sur papier noir 1
détail
Passage lune avant attentes
détail
Passage reel
détail
Passage reel
détail
Carnet de recherches
Décrocher la lune (installation)

Exploring the strangers within ourselves

Décrocher la lune  – Diary – Tuesday September 24th, 2:13 The moon isn’t here, she didn’t rise, she watches out behind the earth what will secretly be, she sprouts. I am scared.

September 28th, 16:35. Anger everywhere around me, in the streets, people pointing out, ignoring the others, bumping for the air the space, without looking, through, alone with angry. As the air here, angry, the weather hot and humid, the crowds moving around like in packs, anger of anonymity, anger and my fear not to exist, vanity to wish to be one. My own anger, mirror of the street, the street reflecting me without letting pass. The detour to follow my path, the compromises, the feeling of transparency and inanity of my being, my say, when some, better that I do write it of even better live it. My poor words, my attempts to order my chaos. This black moon hiding me, is probably the one picturing me the best, nonexistent and full of possible, black, sad and in gestation. I try to keep in the limits of the time, unable to be satisfy. Suddenly skipping a line and being visible for an instant.

September 27th 11:22. In this full of future and possible’s, there is also the emptiness of separation, there are the good-bye, the loss, there are the questions on what we would like bur won’t be able to, adjustment because the question was raised. There is the Infinity and the void, the reality and the dream, the possible and the real.

September 28th, 16:35. Anger everywhere around me, in the streets, people pointing out, ignoring the others, bumping for the air the space, without looking, through, alone with angry. As the air here, angry, the weather hot and humid, the crowds moving around like in packs, anger of anonymity, anger and my fear not to exist, vanity to wish to be one. My own anger, mirror of the street, the street reflecting me without letting pass. The detour to follow my path, the compromises, the feeling of transparency and inanity of my being, my say, when some, better that I do write it of even better live it. My poor words, my attempts to order my chaos. This black moon hiding me, is probably the one picturing me the best, nonexistent and full of possible, black, sad and in gestation. I try to keep in the limits of the time, unable to be satisfy. Suddenly skipping a line and being visible for an instant.

To be continued…


The absence in our paces

These paths that precede us.
Séparation histoires