A ciel ouvert
Suspended from white lips and the wings of time, my freedom plays at unearthing the hidden face of souls that no one questions any more under the radiant sun or the sadness of the sky.
Frozen in a wiped out smile or a chest that still claims its generous grace, life continues through these works that arouse admiration for the talent of their creators, often forced into putting up with anonymity.
Whether a visitor for a day or a lifetime, everyone can look up and savour the pleasure of the stone that has become art, or the pleasure of the emotions that bronze takes up. So many illustrious or little-known stories are told along our streets and alleys.
Whether you are an informed or amateur, let all the residents of these museums, open to the great outdoors and to big hearts, experience the pleasure of life.
Through this half-closed shutter, I want to guess the glimmer of life that bears witness to the past. To understand the itinerary of the suspended tears, to read on these mute lips, what the disappeared existence could have been. To imagine the joys and sorrows, the voice and the moods of a stranger who remains, beyond black and white, a colorful soul, in the guise of eternity.
