Traces of History
 
What is left when the gesture of writing decomposes, deconstructs, what can we reconstitute from scattered pieces?
What place for the words, the writing, the line in a drawing?

Traces of the will and the unconscious, of hazards facing choices of mastery face powerlessness
Traces of the imagination as interpretable smudges to infinity by the sensitivity of each eye.
Between improvised figuration and built abstraction, between the frame which I impose to myself, this initial line which I am dependent, and the freedom of action it gives me, the multitude of choices and direction he invites me.
Traces of sense, in the replay like a story I tell myself