Where to start?
A home page that has no sense of welcome. Maybe it's worth a try after all, why not, let's go and see.
obscene childhood
Obscene childhood is not an oxymoron. It is the very expression of all the power and vigour of insolent shamelessness.
A home page that has no sense of welcome. Maybe it's worth a try after all, why not, let's go and see.
The nude theatre of a whimsical and pornographic actor-performer. A sexual art like an obscene childhood carried by the raw instinct of a stage animal.
A consciousness and a body: nudity and performance under the sun. Eight workshop sessions devoted to the body exhibited through performance.
The contortions to gain acceptance eventually break his spine. Art doesn't make a profession of having a supple spine. I don't either.
To decry sexual exhibition is to deny the reality of coitus, the most banal of our realities, in favour of an illusion of self, the mother of all violence.
Moving away from the fear of what we are is a form of refinement of our being. To embrace our animal side is to become human.
As Victor says about the spider and the nettle - not Dr. Frankenstein, but his friend old Hugo - I love hate because we hate it.
Work isn't interesting. It's being inspired that is. To be inspired is to be called to something more challenging than what was intended.
A video of the "Camps de l'Amor", performance by David Noir and music by Christophe Imbs, like a dreamlike memory of sex, horror and childhood.
Necessary poetic violence | Beware, here I kill with my thoughts. Super aim, I am and cannot / will not spare you.