The Fleece is Sleeping | An Ancient Sex Series
THE SLEEPING FLEECE
A cycle of creations by DAVID NOIR | 1st period: The solos of JaZon
"The Fleece Sleeps" is the story of a childhood that is sexualized in an ambient puritanism through a fantastic and absurd quest: to grow up.
An editorial project in favour of a permanent and diffused scenic form.
Plateau boat going on the water. Only one person on board to leave. Will there be stowaways?
A Variety Show with various and varied subjects:
The Spectacle and the taste of Power - It seems that Respect is a Value - It seems that the World is not made of Followers - It seems that Artists are Nice and that Creating is Cool - It seems that insulting Traitors, It seems that to be Free is to have Limits - It seems that an author has a depth - It seems that to be Coward depends on Circumstances - It seems that to be a Man requires Sacrifices - It would seem that Sex and the Right are becoming more and more uncomplicated - Is there a sexuality of the Right? Does the Penis adhere to all the Parts? At what point do we force our Opening to the Centre? Is being illiterate very Trendy? Does a monkey that paints with its tail really belong on the art market ?
"I am here to make the nest ofanother male in the guise of a trained monkey dressed as everything, disguised as you, singing and moving and stammering
Famine Pasta Rice
Episode 1
Design | Interpretation: David Noir
The little shop of errors
Episode 2
Design | Interpretation: David Noir
I had a classmate
Episode 3
Design | Interpretation: David Noir
Argument and ingredients of a fantastic and absurd quest: Growing up
Medea the Guenon and JaZon the Peacock: two outrageous characters dressed as monkeys - are the virtual parents of the author's avatar who animates them under a latex prosthesis. Between family vanity and appetite for power, the ambitions of an ordinary powerful couple are described, which their little child puppet pays for with his flesh and blood in total indifference. It is the story of a childhood that becomes sexualized in an ambient puritanism; in a setting where music-hall and silent cinema are interspersed between the ruins of a moribund theatre to trace its uncertain contours. The paths lead to a junk antiquity, a vestige of a universe that was born in a toy attic, where the rutile toc echoes the absence of money. The indefinitely enviable tragedy of a pure and broken love comes to express itself in the filigree of this solitude, under the thunderous and acerbic words of ephemeral gods. Show business idols parenting a volatile pink fleece, melting like cotton candy, the pubis of the young man who has become nubile, echoing the sweet, sincere words of his parents and the world around him.