In French, the practice hesitates on the kind of moths.
Born of dew, they carry within them the diurnal which makes visible
and the nocturnal light that makes it elusive.
By a whitish glow, the moth appears-disappears-flutters.
She slips through the ajar door, he dances around the light and finally plunges in,
burn out.
Every second, she-he is born and dies.
The lover, the seducer, the actress hates being real, it is in itself the sacrifice of the possible.
They derealize themselves to put into action the pleasure of desire.
The impossibility of being oneself except in the impassive impermanence.
Difficult to know if they are governed only by intuition or rather , they are more suspicious of them more than anything.
She comes out decked out in her ocellus dress, the image of a disguise gaze  as a passive defense,
a prey.
The painting installed there for a season, embracing in this wood an adaptive strategy,
on guard,
hoping for thunderstorms in late August,
so that the half-closed eyelids of the faces of earth awaken fountains,
metamorphosing by the pouring  of rainwater the captive eyes.

"I can only breathe in the lower regions."
Robert Walser


"... because we are wrong to suppose that once it has appeared, the thing is, remains, resists, persists, as is in time, as in our mind which is describes and knows it."
Didi-Huberman

Phalène - je ne puis réspirer que dans les régions inferieures / Moth -  i can only breathe in the lower regions /  
installation in the dimensions of the clearing (80m2) /
ceramic, copper, rubber, sheets,  straw, indian ink, provence ochres, bordeaux mixture, walnuts husks,  end of barrels from the Domaine