Life to die for, like inhaling a perpetual puff of crack that propels you to the 12th heaven and ending with a slow withdrawal that leaves you empty and shaking. Obsession to confront the world, desire to hit the road, to fall in love, to have a baby. But also fear of returning, fear of consequences, of routine. It is a circle or rather a cycle. There is life behind closed doors, often inside the apartment: that anchor point where you sometimes have to wait for life to happen, where inaction can awaken anxiety, life slipping through your fingers. And then there’s the elsewhere, moments of abandonment while traveling, or when pressed against someone’s body. If withdrawal can become hallucinatory, the standard can become a secondary state. Desiderium Tremens
Sample of my current personnal work.
The Kraftsmen. Show at Le Poste à Galène, Marseille.