SES DISPARITIONS SUCCESSIVES
Comme on verrait une fois les paupières closes.
Ou bien au bout d'un long voir, « jusqu'à son propre aveuglement ».
Une errance faite d'éblouissements, d?images impressionnistes. Visions parfois au seuil de l?abstraction - mélange
de matière minérale, du grain de la pellicule et de pixels.
Recomposition d'un espace imaginaire oscillant entre minéralité et végétalité, des fragments originaires : eau, ciel,
roche.
Une dérive rythmée par de longues promenades solitaires et intuitives, aux prises avec les éléments, les phénomènes : soleil, pluie, rafales de vent, lumières et couleurs changeantes.
De long en large.
Tout au long au bout les rochers noirs.
Pérégrinations contraintes par le rythme des marées - il faut attendre que la mer se retire. Marchant tantôt sur le
sable des plages, tantôt empruntant des chemins de traverses sur les collines que forment les falaises argileuses,
boueuses et calcaires ; parmi une végétation sauvage ? comme un arrière-pays.
L?horizon, la mer, apparaissant - disparaissant, mais le bruit de son flot continu, rappelle sans cesse sa présence.
« Vous regarderez ce que vous voyez. Mais vous le regarderez absolument. Vous essaierez de le regarder jusqu'à l'extinction de votre
regard, jusqu'à son propre aveuglement et à travers celui-ci vous devrez essayer encore de regarder. Jusqu?à la fin. Vous me demandez :
Regarder quoi ? Je dis, eh bien, je dis la mer, oui ce mot, devant vous, ces murs devant la mer, ses disparitions successives, ce chien, ce
littoral, cet oiseau sous le vent atlantique. » (?)
La mer est à votre gauche en ce moment. Vous entendez sa rumeur mêlée à celle du vent.
Dans de longues portées elle avance vers vous, vers les collines de la côte. »
Marguerite Duras,
L'Homme atlantique
Série réalisée durant la residence Tremplin Jeunes Talents, Festival Planche(s) Contact, Deauville, 2020.
ITS SUCCESSIVE DISAPPEARANCES
As we would see after shutting our eyes.
Or after a long stare, ?until sight fails?.
Wandering made up of glares, impressionist images. At times,visions almost abstract ? mixture of mineral matter, the film?s grain and pixels.
Recomposing an imaginary space that oscillates between minerality xand vegetality, originating fragments: water, sky, stone.
Drifting to the rhythm of solitary and intuitive walks, braving the elements and weather phenomena: sun, rain, gusts of wind, light, changing colours.
Length and breadth.
All the way the black rocks at the end.
Peregrinations bound by the rhythm of the tides ? waiting for the sea to retreat.
Sometimes walking on the sand, sometimes walking tracks on the hills formed by clay, mud and chalk cliffs; among wild vegetation ? like a hinterland.
The horizon, the sea, appearing ? disappearing, but the sound of its endless flow is a never ending reminder of its presence.
?You will look at what you see. But you will look absolutely. You will try to look until you are no longer able to, until your sight fails and throughout you must still try to look. Until the end. You ask me: Look at what? I say, well, the sea, yes that word, in front of you, those walls
before the sea, its successive disappearances, that dog, that coast,
that bird in the Atlantic wind.? ( ? ) The sea is now on your left. You can hear its whisper intertwined with the wind. In great leaps it moves towards you; towards the hills of the coast.?
Marguerite Duras, L?Homme atlantique
Work done during the residence Tremplin Jeunes Talents, Festival Planche(s) Contact, Deauville, 2020.
Drifting to the rhythm of solitary and intuitive walks, braving the elements and weather phenomena: sun, rain, gusts of wind, light, changing colours.
Length and breadth.
All the way the black rocks at the end.
Peregrinations bound by the rhythm of the tides ? waiting for the sea to retreat.
Sometimes walking on the sand, sometimes walking tracks on the hills formed by clay, mud and chalk cliffs; among wild vegetation ? like a hinterland.
The horizon, the sea, appearing ? disappearing, but the sound of its endless flow is a never ending reminder of its presence.
?You will look at what you see. But you will look absolutely. You will try to look until you are no longer able to, until your sight fails and throughout you must still try to look. Until the end. You ask me: Look at what? I say, well, the sea, yes that word, in front of you, those walls
before the sea, its successive disappearances, that dog, that coast,
that bird in the Atlantic wind.? ( ? ) The sea is now on your left. You can hear its whisper intertwined with the wind. In great leaps it moves towards you; towards the hills of the coast.?
Marguerite Duras,
L?Homme atlantique
Work done during the residence Tremplin Jeunes Talents, Festival Planche(s) Contact, Deauville, 2020.
