Light : only one windows lets sunrays enter, bursts invigorating the structure, plunging it into chiaroscuro that large canvas, like black holes, reinforce. The installation lives by the uncertain rhythm of time and clouds and wind. The grey light from outside plunges the inside into dawn. Sunrays gives brightness to small zones of paper - to piled up silences. The distant world, outside, comes, here, to make the space we occupy. We that are moving and we that are taking such a place, are this way referred to the over-there which is here present. In this world we live and we move, this world open to the infinity of the varying and pervading universe. This star that only the veil of clouds masking it, fixes its expectancy and no more the barred night of cities which close the infinite arch over. At the heart of a building, which is a paradox for the living, we desire to meet our being. No more functionalized and imbricated and formed : at the contrary, we have to recover what has never been abandoned : an élan, a grasp of what transcends us and makes us. Such a dark space because devoid of cheating devices, no artificial light will give this taste of things with which Nature propels the being-in-the-world. A dark space but mindful of the crossing and illuminating flash of lightning and ray, which cast the friendly shadow that brightens the dark depths of our homes up.
Maybe abstract, this approach which life feeds on : squares and rounds and columns with geometrically drawn angles which, though diverted, constitute a space inside where one can stay. Inside a hangar, papers form in the middle of it, the reception of an enveloped but already outside being : from a black hole to another, from black squares which form the infinite limit of space to the black circle which defines the point where stands – what ? Perhaps a crossing, a transfigured floor, an inhabited void, a missing column, incarnated in our sublimated bodies. “I” am the edified edifice that is raised again, cancelled but manifested by this construction because finally, what we built does not matter if the act which makes us take place in there, was not. On a light step, suspended in the contained space, a time - ephemeral sensation – revealing every emergence to the world, is stretching and makes the sun stand outside and the black circle inside, dark double of the former that, for having been revealed to us, makes us aware of the hole above which we stand for a while. This is a suspense as ephemeral and fragile as the paper structures, this is simultaneously a fugitive time and joy for the Présant . Our feet standing on the square of the enveloped circle, we are turning around, singing in silence the dance of a restarted life.
X.R