L’ atelier

HD video, 1 channel, sound, 3′

Lʼatelier, a strange space in time..

Haven of my existential solitudes, this place in which I think and seek-tent-retentive-stop-trace-compensate-compress-uncompress-slow-motion-freeze-blackened-bleached-cut-cut -fixe-grip.. look what flies away, does not always have a roof or an address.

It is often where the need for the imprint is made, where emotion unravels thought, where the present finally vows to contain without of course letting itself be turned around.

Lʼatelier, also happens when the fear of loss arises, annoys threatens in waves familiar lives and territories that I still believe at times acquired.

My neighbor on the accordion blows the air of the fugue, never quite the same… She reassures me in her impossible attempts to replay the scene, and without perhaps even knowing it, she repeats at will that the key to the atelier is in the atelier.

Trying to invent new decoys each time with my tools, my instruments to combine living and dying at the same time, I manage somewhat here to make myself deaf to the sirens that whistle the end of summers.

Listen, record, listen again and again to the leeks or the corns growing..

Watering the spring.