Arpia photography price (France, 2016)
photography - installation
In Zhejiang Province, I spent a while in a quiet town where, around a pond, thousand-one houses are going to be demolished. We can enter in this ghost town by a single street as the entrance of a maze. The air is stagnant, the orientation is difficult, the dust hides the stars.
From one day to the other, the names of the streets change, neighborhoods move. We destroy cities to build cities. Where a building is based, on the following day nothing more than a wheel land, which already runs the new concrete foundations. Building without doors or windows where only drafts give the illusion of a breath. Buildings with entrails still furnished. You can almost hear the gurgling pans left behind. Some buildings have only four years, others are here for more than a century. But all are from the same family, that one of oblivion and pestle.
Sometimes, at the foot of the ruins, something still moves, it is the old people... Only old people never want to leave. I took their members, wrinkles, and I covered the facades of houses they have lived yesterday. Tattered posters, feet landless hands without typing anything. This is messy. I wanted to restore skin to these walls alive, breathing between debris. A foot fleets, a hand emerges. Amidst members and rubble, the space opens to cry quietly.
Exhibition at MPAA (Paris, 2018)