While it dries…

An exhibition in the centre of France, a small village in George Sand’s region, the courtyard of an old house where a line of washing was out to dry . It was these clothes lines which helped me rediscover the line of a lost memory…
This vision of washing in the sun has revealed to me something forgotten. Unconscious memory of the terraces of my childhood where I played between the rows of sheets drying in the sun, smell of freshly finished washing ? This washing, like the shadow of a body, brought me back on the tracks of an unfathomable presence of a recent and painful absence.
First photographic shooting is like an aide memoire; it is also like the modern version of a sketch book. But the shots, my painting's origins, occupy a very special place: that of archaeology in discovering civilisations. And it is only in a second time that the painting, written in the holes existing in the language, drags me along in its own creative leap.