L’ atelier

HD video, 1 channel, sound, 3′

.. A strange remedy for time

Port, support in the solitude of existential tensions, this place in which I think-sink-tempt-retry-stop-trace-compense-compress-slow down-freeze-blacken-bleach-decompress-cut-cut-fix-hang and behold what flies away, that place never really has a home or address.
L’atelier is where the need for the imprint is, where emotion ties with thought, where the present is finally vowed to contain, if not allowing itself to be turned around.

L’atelier comes about when fear of loss arise and annoy or threaten in vague familiar lives and territories that I had at times believed to have been acquired.
But it is also there the time to live and think about the time spent, decipher the traces and deal with what I tried to capture of it.
My neighbor at the accordion, Anne, was blowing the air of the fugue above the ceiling, never really the same … She was reassuring me in her impossible attempts at eternal return, repeating – without perhaps knowing it – that the key to l’atelier was really in l’atelier.

My camera tripod is my country easel… a wind turbine, a metronome. Charcoal, ash that the rain makes juice.
My instruments and their anxiolytic precipitates then help me to play with the ebb and flow of the moment that I cannot tame. Singing with these decoys to live and die at the same time, I am somewhat able to deactivate myself to the sirens that whistle the end of summers.
Listening, recording, listening to the leeks keeping on growing …

Beyond a pataphysical game or an Idiotic poetry, it is guided by the pleasure of unrolling another yardstick in the excess of time that I try to tie in, to tune into an earthly time code where the present is watering.
.. l’atelier shows me that life is written in a light shining on the shadow of its countdown, where “what remains” is not the coming time but what makes me come to it.