“Not your own stuff, is it ?”
Two steps of a bending stair : such was the destination of the first bronze cast of the woman on her knees entitled L’Aigue-Vive. Later, as the second bronze cast of the statue was being engraved, its new destination was the double column wood base that can be seen here. Now, as it turned out, a piece was missing and had to be provided, exactly where the leg comes into contact with the wooden upright. So much so that a 4.7 x 3.1-inch plate (12 x 8 cm) had been planned to be brought in, then welded and engraved as the natural extension of the rest of the leg. Plastic surgery, as you might call it. The engraver fetched a bronze discard from another sculpture. Mind you, the folds and the surface texture of that discard were rather compatible with those of my sculpture. And off we went : the plate was drawn, cut, shaped, welded, and in the end, the result suggested that it had melted into the rest of the leg. That area being dark and discreet, I might have been content with a thrifty dealing –some kind of basic engraving- had the worker not remarked onto me : “Not your own stuff, is it?”. Or, in other words, “How could you make another sculptor’s material (the engraved surface) yours in order to relate it to your own sculpture ?” Well, I had to restore my sculpture (that woman so singularly “mine”) in its pride, its singular dressing; at the top of its crotch, a material (“a stuff”) that would remain unique had to be created. My sculptor’s hand had to create a finishing that would ever after be dissimilar, and never be interchangeable. And, after all, is it so different when you shift from bronze to skin ? In other words, can our caresses work the same wonders ?

(Translated by Michèle Bustros)