NEW COLLECTION
Just a drop of chaos
« I want to grasp, but everything slips out. I want to understand, but it's chaos. A river too vast, too deep for my eager hands. »
— H. Michaux, Plume
This series was born
out of a haunting idea
Water is both womb and grave. It carries within it the chaos of all possibilities.
Water is a threshold, a suspended space between breath and oblivion. It cuddles and clutches. It cradles and drowns.
Are we falling or emerging ?
Is the embrace gentle or suffocating ?
In the depths, time stretches out, uncertain... Everything gets cloudy : contours fade, time dissolves, memories fray...
Just like an amniotic Styx, dark water holds the ghosts of what was and what will be.
In this indecisive flutter, all that remains is the dance of sunken bodies, their silent dialogue with the darkness and the fascinating beauty of incertitude...
I have a particular fondness for this series…
… as it symbolises a phase of uncertainty I recently went through.
You know, one of those confusing moments when you're floating between two waters, when you're not sure whether you're sinking, emerging or undergoing a metamorphosis.
With this series, I wanted to finally allow myself to express more ambiguous feelings and explore a different approach to my work, more experimental and spontaneous.
In my pool-studio…
… I invited dancers to do some improvisations on breath-hold.
Instead of trying to establish precise poses, we just set a starting intention, then focused on the sensations that arise when the body is immersed in water and entangled in fabric.
My aim was to create a confusion of bodies and fabrics, a kind of baroque chaos, and to find out what emotions would flow from it.
I worked intensively on the painterly aspect of these pictures…
… during the post-production phase, to reinforce this idea of a baroque chaos.
I aimed to create pictures that would be very seductive to the eye, but with an eerie atmosphere as well.
My guiding idea was really to stage a dramatic and sumptuous struggle —the outcome of which would remain uncertain— with a character entangled in finery, drowning in liquid marble, mired in organic paint...
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