Holding the thread with one’s fingertips. Making a connection with almost nothing. Letting go without any apprehension, neither rupture, nor void.
Finding a thread and pulling on it.
Smiling, laughing, bursting into laughter, hearing a burst.
Bursting words and images, actions and sounds. Images that mooooooove and lines that spin.
An artist-poet-performer.
A collector in love with other people’s images.
A poet-photographer who strikes cords.
A troika that makes us lose track.
Each one proposes, follows an alternative idea, an answer is suggested…
In a multimedia game of ‘exquisite corpse’, a photograph meets a drawing and allows for a sentence to come along in the next round.
Nostalgia is never what it used to be.
Anonymous photographs come to life. The moon comes out of a mouth and also mumbles words. A goldfish that swims in the street and swoons in front of our window.
The thread is stretched, from absurdity to tenderness, from eroticism to fondness. Nonetheless the obviously good-natured games of infinite and undefined possibilities do carry a serious project: poetry and a delicate laugh.