Sometimes, at night I’m awoken.
A terrifying dream.
I sit in the bed,
I look up and can’t see anything.
I widen them to the maximum, and contort my face, but nothing works.
As a matter of course, as if I knew it was going to happen.
I lost my sight.
It’s atrocious, it’s a drama.
I think of everything I will no longer see.
This organ, no longer enjoyed.
My two little eyes.
I’m still trying.
I see the halos of light.

I remember the description of Jorge Luis Borges’s blurred images.
I remember his novel, The other (in the SandBook), in which he meet himself, younger.
He talled himself :
«You will be blind. But do not worry, it’s like the long end of a beautiful summer evening ».
A summer evening.
A long summer evening, which refused to burn out.
Yes, it’s beautiful!
It’s beautiful from the inside.
Otherwise, it hurts.

I also have in mind The sandman by Hoffmann.
This story we tell children, to make them close there eyes and sleep.
The eye gouger.
Each grain of sand that dislodges the eye of its orifice.
Little by little.
It squeaks, it scratches, it cuts, it digs, it oozes.

But I want to enjoy the eye again.
I don’t accept this erasure.
I want to caress again with my eyes.
To stare, to feel, to meet, to interact, to glance.
To undress with my eyes.
I want my wandering eyes.
I want tears and pebbles of salt.
It hurts, yes, but I want to see again!

To see everything.
But I remember,
I never face the sun.
And always this cataract.
This dark misty veil blocking my view.
I think about sunset.
About shade of blue, black, grey.

//Insulaire (le crépuscule).
Tableau for 1 person, 160cm tall.
This piece is made of velvet, coton, wax. Its dimension is around 9 square meters. It is an impcoplete disk.//

This tableau is a twilight capture, on july 14th, 2016.
At this time where everything is confused.
When sun is between 6 and 12 degree under skyline.
The incomplete disk is composed by 8 colors from this sky.
The piece is unfold on the floor.
The person raises it by its center and places it on their shoulders.
Like a cape.
The neck is bare, the face is relaxed, staring at the horizon.
This tableau appeared for the first time in 2017 in Madrid.

I think about a total eclipse I seen few years before.
Everything is suddenly frozen.
A silence different from ordinary silences.
An earth light different from the earth light.
Then darkness.
No more sound.
No more breath.
No more whistling of bird.

//Perfect immobility//

The only thought I had during the entire eclipse was :
at this moment do our feelings stop too?

//Eclipse, 2015.
Tableau for 3 persons, 30 years old.
This piece is made of velvet, coton, glass.//

This tableau will lead 3 people in a slow and silent movement.
Pieces of colored velvet will be extended one on the other on the floor, to form a large disk.
Further, small pieces of colored glass will be placed in a circle on the floor.
The 3 people will simultaneously perform the following actions:
The first will sit in the middle of the velvet, knees bent and feet to the same side, near the buttocks.
She will lay her hands down flat in front of her, on the velvet.
The second will sit facing the glass plates, one leg extended and the other folded into his crotch.
She will place her hands on both sides of the glass plates.
The third will wear the colored striped top and will position itself to form a triangle with the first two. She will stand and look in front of her.
The first will slowly slip his hands under the black velvet.
The second will pick up the glass plates one by one,
and the third will rotate half a turn on themselves, to the rhythm of the minute hand of a watch.
Then the first one will slowly remove his hands from the black velvet, to put them on again.
The second will replace the glass plates one by one to find the original drawing and the last will complete the remaining half- turn.
In order to accomplish these gestures simultaneously they will observe each other.
This tableau appeared for the first time in 2015 in Paris.

You won’t see this picture.
Not with your eyes.
We see too many pictures. We slide above.

But, what about those pictures which take form from my tongue to your mind?
What are they?

//Latent images//

No support.
Or maybe time is the support.

That’s what I feel when I have this dream.
This hardship.
I can’t watch.
I just can see ghost images.

You would like to see these bare hands, laid on silky velvet.
These delicate fingers fail to cut themselves on the slices of the glass plates.
You would like to see this gesture slowed to the extreme,
accumulating suspended and unraveling time.
You would like to turn around.
Penetrate it.
Share the air with these 3 people.
Breathe them.
Feel their very warmth.

How can I sculpt this air we shared?
How can I sculpt this time we shared?
This time that escapes from us.
How can I give him a texture, a color?
How make it tangible?

People are time.
Their presence around me.
Friends, familly...
Artist, performer, curator, visitor, guard, passerby...

Borges wrote :
«Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river. It is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger. It is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.»

People give color to the time.
I create tableaux vivants for people.

From my studio to exibition space.
These tableaux always unfold on the floor.
Same floor we walk.
Same floor we share.
Visual, sensual.
This floor, its material, its color, its size...
The sound I made with it.
This floor which attracts me and that I push away.
Then yes!
I want my eyes again to capture images, landscapes, lights, sensations, feelings...

//On the tip of the tongue, 2017.
Tableau for one pair.
This piece is made of velvet, wax, steel strings.
Its dimension is around 20 square meters, and its shape is longer than large.//

The piece of velvet is laid on the floor.
Pairs of feet in wax are placed on the velvet.
Strings stretched from the ceiling lift them.
The two people are barefoot, dressed in a similar way, their hair are loose. They place them on the velvet, standing, watching in the same direction. Sometimes, they raise themselves from the floor, and try to stay in equilibrium. This tableau appeared for the first time in 2017 in Madrid.

Alain Robbe-Grillet talk about tableau vivant in those terms :
«Object of desire is always arrested, immobilized by the gaze, suspended.»
Because the look immobilized.
The look suspends.
//The look immobilized//

Capture, encapsulate, keep.
But to avoid fading, those moments must wander forever,
in search of spirits in which to take shape, spaces in which to unfold.
Tableaux vivants does not really have a tie.
They sail.
Never settle.

And tableaux vivants are never really the same.
They take different accents to sandstone places, interpretations of scores, people who realize it. There is no permanence.
They try to stay moving.
To stay alive.

Besides, there is another horrible dream that I sometimes have.
I run, I run, but nothing moves.
I don’t move.
I am frozen.
Everything is heavy, slow, painful.
No worse feeling, than to feel time slipping between your fingers that its own immobility, uncontrolled. No doubt it is the fruit of a complexe relationship with time that flows at great speed, and vain but intense desire to run with it.
Adélaïde Feriot, 2018.