Light ivory
Thinking of oneself as an artistic endeavour is a complex process. Why write? Perhaps simply to feed the flow of things.
write
Thinking of oneself as an artistic endeavour is a complex process. Why write? Perhaps simply to feed the flow of things.
A new free and raw blog, as a necessary refuge for the written word. A little secret but not stuttering and spontaneously readable for anyone who would like to come there.
My art of living is nourished by the joyful obscenity of childhood; disguises, make-up, genitals manipulated like toys and sexualities...
Behind the computers, the lyrics look absolute. What a beautiful anonymity not to face oneself!
Why is it that when I walk into a theater, do I want to leave? Why when I randomly open a book, do I look forward to closing it?
A livable world. In the experiment, I am my own guinea pig. You are free to choose a similar place. All are possible.
It is, when all that remains to my senses is the fleeting and deep trace like a gash, what I retain of a spectacle... or of a man: the preserved void.
For me, the most beautiful collaboration is done without words, just through execution. Execution, a magic word when it is not fearsome...