My writings came along in the course, the flowing course of my sculptures, springing from their drive :
"vain, sundry and undulating" as Montaigne would put it, they were like the brook that carried along my blocks
of marble, rolled them away, washed them away. Writings&sculptures : my marbles , but the work of deep,
deep earth, later of water, later still of my carving in accord with it; my writings, as here, on this blank page,
but my moulding the fresh, temperamental and versatile matter of words. For a long time, those writings,
here in a small or tall hand, there in a round or sharp-as-flint hand, have been running loose.
And for a long time too, as years went by, I placed them opposite my sculptures, juxtaposing here what
was tacit -through the flesh of the matter and the amplification of the body- and there what was manifest -through
the breath of a word that unravels those questions of mine, offers an explanation or gives an account.
Tacit for manifest, sculptures for writings, the double span of matter and words that structures me.
My "Wings of desire". To which Heraclitus might have added that "a tacit agreement is better than
a manifest one".
(Translated by Michèle Bustros)
repos marbre 2011
'elle étire mes désirs' 2011
eaux vives 2010
chaton de coudrier 1980