Saturday, 27 March 2010

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Sunday, 10 January 2010

"OCTAVE.— La sage nourrice s’est contentée de lui faire boire d’un certain lait que la vôtre vous a versé sans doute, et généreusement ; vous en avez encore sur les lèvres une goutte qui se mêle à toutes vos paroles.

MARIANNE.— Comment s’appelle ce lait merveilleux ?

OCTAVE.— L’indifférence. Vous ne pouvez aimer ni haïr, et vous êtes comme les roses du Bengale, Marianne, sans épines et sans parfum."

Les Caprices de Marianne

Wednesday, 6 January 2010

Rimbaud 2. a dream of winter

In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriage
With blue cushions.
We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in wait
In each soft corner.

You will close your eyes, so as not to see, through the glass,
The evening shadows pulling faces.
Those snarling monsters, a population
Of black devils and black wolves.

Then you'll feel your cheek scratched...
A little kiss, like a crazy spider,
Will run round your neck...

And you'll say to me : "Find it !" bending your head
- And we'll take a long time to find that creature
- Which travels a lot...

Arthur Rimbaud

In a railway carriage, October 7, 70

Arthur Rimbaud, révé en hiver.

(sketchbook stage i'm afraid, nothing too bright and sassy)

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

ambiguity 3

These images are a submission to the magazine i am a part of : "Adjective Magazine" , which features a different adjective in every issue. the first issue is "ambiguous".
i made collages about sexual ambiguity on a biological level, using quotes from "Seraphita" wirtten by Honoré de Balzac:

" Her fresh young face, with its delicate outline, expressed an infinite purity which harmonized with the candor of the white brow and the clear blue eyes. She sat erect, turning slightly toward the lamp for better light, unconsciously showing as she did so the beauty of her waist and bust. (...) Sitting thus, she presented the most complete image, the truest type, of the woman destined for terrestrial labor, whose glance may pierce the clouds of the sanctuary while her thought, humble and charitable, keeps her ever on the level of man."

Honore de Balzac, Seraphita, (p49)