If we could, for just a moment, see the colors of the world around us, our minds would first be captivated by the variations in shade and intensity that compose a simple monochrome flat. Then, awakening to this new perception, they would linger on the infinite movements that animate this same colored surface. Fleeting movements, appearances, disappearances, sometimes drawing geometric shapes, other times chaotic forms, all animated by an infinite number of nuances beyond the reach of our usual perception.
But a veil covers our eyes, the veil of habits, beliefs, and conditioning.
The series presented below take shape as certified, numbered, and limited-edition digigraphs (a printing process capable of handling millions of colors and with the unique characteristic of printing light), each limited to 22 copies.
I see travel as a central theme of the human condition. I've never truly been able to get used to this visceral, organic vehicle; it's not my nature, it's something foreign to me.
I wrote a short story in which the main character finds himself lost in nature. While searching for his way, he glimpses a strange glimmer in the distance, behind some bushes. He follows the light to discover what looks like a mineral body.
As he approaches this body, the memory returns. It's not a mental memory, but rather an instinctive one. With a gesture, he unlocks his jaw, which is actually a door, allowing an entity to leave his body.
This entity, of course, is a part of him—whichever part you prefer.
Once freed, the entity moves without hesitation toward this new body, which, once inhabited, begins to take off. I linger at the end of this story on the beauty of the landscapes, as if the character were perceiving it all with renewed eyes.
