Celebration of nature with dead soldier. Not a text, but just a title, a fleeting idea, a feeling. The grass is so soft that rest seems possible, stopping here for a moment seems essential. Added to this is the presence of sculptures, immutable or random. What to do in these lofty places where the spirit seems to blow, where the air itself trembles. Listen to the silence descending from the tall trees and the murmur of water buried in the earth… No, the stated aim here is not poetry, but simply to put on an exhibition, the best possible exhibition.
The text requested from Tenret is just a glance that hides and betrays itself, a singular reading, a friendly or distant gesture. It illuminates with its own light the studios, the works, the men and women encountered. The placement of the sculptures is not a staging, not yet a dramaturgy, it is only the patient and shared search for the place where perhaps something can happen between a work, a place and an audience.
The artists have come and the works are there. And what a lot of coming and going, and what determination to achieve the best possible result. The whole, like a large dislocated body, should be an expression of our pleasure in doing it.
Curator: Nicolas Raboud
