"Where is the stage ? Right here."
Saint-Hyacinthe, Canada, 2015
"I find it impossible to say how long it was before I was able to move, before I backed up toward the path, all those multitudinous voices chanting everywhere around me and all those many colored lights bobbing in the wind-blown trees. Yet it seemed only a single voice I heard, and a single color I saw, as I found my way home, stumbling through the greenish darkness of the night."
T. Ligotti, Nethescurial
(eng) Parisian collective Pauza (consisting in Metshka, Pampo, Morfine/Roman Delore & Mana) invited and teamed up with visual artist Bertrand Gadenne and japanese Dj and producer Ryo Murakami for a one-evening video and sound installation at Les Voûtes, an intimate and charming place in Les Frigos, the famous artistic kind-of-squat in Paris XIII.
(fr) Le collectif parisien Pauza (composé de Metshka, Pampo, Morfine/Roman Delore & Mana) ont invité et fait équipe avec l'artiste vidéo Bertrand Gadenne and le Dj et producteur de musique électronique Ryo Murakami pour une installation vidéo et sonore le temps d'une soirée. Pour l'occasion, Les Frigos, le célèbre et impressionant squat artistique situé à Paris XIII leur avait permis d'occuper un petit espace intime et plein de charme, Les Voûtes.
“It is the uncertainty that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful.” Oscar Wilde
This photograph was featured in Photo LA 2016 at the Duncan Miller Gallery, thanks to a partnership between famous Parisian lab Picto and yourdailyphotograph.com.
Here's a few pics from the exhibition.
A new six-word story. Once upon a time... near Carcosa.
When the pallid man comes around, one can hear the murmur of the dead man's bones.
Newcomers will flee and locals close the shutters. An indistinct taste of malaise spreads out in the air.
The pallid man came around and all the boy got for an answer was " Stories aren't good around here, lad.".
At this moment, everything seemed so precious, important, almost magical; the making of a portrait which we wanted unique had caused enthusiasm from the discovery of the result, and a little bit of anxiety; we hoped we had captured what we had imagined or felt. Months, even years later, what’s left of that excitement ? Did all those hopes we placed in one photograph turn out well ? Was the energy which animated us only a mere flash in the pan ? Sometimes the portraits have been forgotten, never showed or even printed. They often got lost, became anonymous among others like them. "In some way, I'll be here" is a return to those out fires. In some way.
Beginning to post some stand-alone six-word stories in the diary.
Early in the morning, when the mist is still roaming, one could again and again hear the echoes resonating through the lands : "I will be back."
What lies beyond the madness of men. All this rage and chaos and hatred taking place are no peculiar sign to our current time. The human madness is as old as we are. It is us. A wave exploding and sneaking through the course of time.
There is no point to come, stand and say who is right and who is wrong. There is in the end no cure nor solution. What matters now is what has been right all around us. Before we happened. And hopefully after we disappear.
Retreat. Give them up and retire. It is a place full of mystery and simple joys that lies before us.