Friday, June 13, 2014
The eye of the tiger

Friday, June 6, 2014 - 6:15 - At the mill

The look of a tiger can't be forgotten. Normally, in the unprotected Nature, into the wild, if this look is crossed this is the last . It was in a zoo, modern zoos where we give the taste of freedom to animals without totally plunging them into it. We passed under a glass tunnel from which we could see a magnificent tiger safely. Between him and the audience a thick translucent wall allowed the audacities, those such as these kids pulling her tongue, doing the monkeys to mean You will not have me, outlet game kid in connection with the meeting of man-eater.
The tiger was lying peacefully in one or two meters of the tunnel and watched what was going on with attention and a hint of condescension. The agitation that took place behind the glass captivated him visibly, his gaze watch one by one little fellows that were gesticulating in front of him.
Who saw a cat freeze to observe his prey will include, the pupil which dilates,  the body tense as a strung bow, concentration seems to erase what exists around it. The tiger had not quite this tension, he knew that these silhouettes were inaccessible.
The situation was both grotesque and indecent, this animal and its untamable power in the face of children disrespectful of it, glass wall between two worlds, who is poking fun at the other?
I was watching this tiger, fascinated by its concentration, fascinated by his fascination, his eyes were lingering on each child and really saw him,  the expression eat gaze had to be invented to felines. Inevitably, our eyes finally intersect. A look of fear can't be seen, it slips away, flees foreign pupils perhaps for not to be devouring,  of the gaze.
I had this little reaction, but no,  then the desire to see it, to dive myself in his eyes, is what we were here for, discover, watch the animal kingdom, try to understand? Does my pupils have been dilated ? The sensation of being naked, no mask can deal with this tiger, an inescapable presence, he probed me , unequivocal,  it was that of the predator. If the window had not existed, my own would have been the one of the prey. This tiger hypnotized me, I thought about Shere Khan in the Jungle Book, you mix everything,  it is the snake that hypnotizes, that of Dysney 's Robin Hood Triste Sire, the Prince Jean's counselor Persifleur , returned to my memory. Sensation of paralysis and attraction, I can't make a move and have  the paradoxical desire to get closer, at least to stay there in the eye of the tiger, snapped up, caught me alive. The glass was not a staging, it was essential for the meeting but nevertheless it was not the game, there was usurpation.
I could bow my respect to this look and also I was ashamed to be on the side of those who hold power and busted through the eyes of an insane animal. Maybe I was more grotesque and indecent that thoses kids who didn’t know what they were doing.

I have a complex relation ship to  paralysis, stop times, dilated pupil, the position of contemplation is probably so innate in my case than for any feline. My relationship to look can become as an abyss, nature has invented the eye to observed it, to be admired, to be liked, to see it, look at it, recognize it, touch, meet, reach, eat, devour, and understand. Contemplate is a coronation that renews itself every day. To appreciate something you have to look long, the eye shape, over about what he sees the look get used to, better recognizes, sees faster, probe further. In architecture the look is what builds space. Sound perceptions, hearing, olfactory, tactile indeed, the reality of a space is first visual. By dint of sketches, observations, tracks, lines, thick lines or crosshatching, one end up liking what one knows. After having been sketching so many of these forms on paper, the obsession is in my eyes.


When we were young, sometimes we were allowed to stay in the lab of my father when he was developing his photos. You had to sit on the stool, there and you DON'T MO-VE at all! I didn't make noise, it's dark, Daddy is tinkering in red light or in complete darkness when it's about color. I stand still, don't have to deconcentrate him, sometimes whistling, I expect the shapes to appear on paper, sometimes we have the right to hold the small plastic clip and flip the photo in the tray, gent-ly slow-ly, other times it's really long and he cautioned that one could not get out straight away, one can't open the door, it could last half an hour, maybe more. When you come out of the lab, feel to wake up, airlock out and then want  to also return a little, it was rather funny to be in the dark, nose picking and nobody sees , make grimaces or have an idiotically unthinkingly, believe it's like night and we have the right to be awake.
During my studies of archi on the occasion of a photography course, the lab school recall my memories, tinkering in trays is funny, there are always one or two regulars who give lots of advice and shake the paw to whatever comes in, a wizard side that I like. I test developer, solarization, but it is damn complicated, a chemist job, maybe not my concern indeed, photo shoots on the street stress me out a bit, be the one who wants to see , people watching what I do, hard to assume the loop, gaze, my eye through the lens. Photo of archi is a specialty of or of architect or of photographer. It was probably too soon. The technical in photography is unavoidable as it is essential to learn the materials, their strengths and opportunities, constructive rules, constraints of land, of sunshine, when you want to see a building come true. So I did not become a photographer.

Since I was small I see pictures, exhibitions, installations, objectives and I don't understand much about it. Without paying attention my gaze has been formed, framing, detail, I look at the pictures of Dad, those of others, I have several at home. I don't know how to do it, I frame as Dad taught us, Be careful there you cut the head, hand, foot, you have to put people at the center of the photo, it's a shame the details here, but what have you done is fuzzy! I think of my classes, the teacher criticized our contact sheets, there it's good this small band, look this geometry it's interesting , this is rather anecdotally there you have some interesting lines. With a little concentration I find the framing, the right angle, the right place, the light that goes well, the proper perspective.

Digital reactivated my access to the photo. It's fun, easy, accurate, much shorter than the film, much cheaper too. I don't pretend to nice shot, I want a collection, a materials library, an art library, continue to immerse my gaze in the lines, shapes, textures, shadows, unhooked, details, materials, find a point of view, a graphic, an abstraction, my fascinations, contemplate. I turn around buildings, come closer, on tour I scan, I'm looking without thinking, turning a look a pinion is laid bare, volume salient here, stacking cubes, a curve that go with, smokestacks, towers communication, strains forests on roofs, brick and glass, frames, moldings, cornices, identification, where been post for the right picture, the right time, I pass, returns to the same places, finally get off and take out my mobile . Finally he makes better photo than my digital camera already old. I feel my eyes in metamorphosis, it happened to me from time to time to have this feeling, as the result of indigestion that has begun to hurt me a little uncomfortable, the obsession moves , bulimia which eventually sicken me. I know it takes a few days, let it go, digest without forcing, my gaze continues to evolve, the head turns slightly, inevitably something is moving in my visual center.

One must love what one devours, look long, take ownership, change of energy from one eye to the other, from the object to the eye, since my optic nerve, integrate, absorb energy, at least he not disappear. If you don't devour your dream, life will do it, that sentence of St Exupéry calmed me, I discovered there shortly, it sound as a promise, devour is a good way since it has bifurcations to dreams. When I'm not busy devouring what I see, I swallowed phrases in my reach. Exit contemplation is probably what is the most delicate, but how shall we do, on can't remain paralyzed all the time. What is happening in my mind, in my body through my eyes, is currently described as Elvis Presley in 1956 When you Looked into my eyes - I Stood there like I Was Hypnotised - You sent a feeling to my spine - A feeling warm and smooth and fine - But all I Could do stand were stand there paralyzed . No doubt we are not talking about the same thing. No doubt.

What we see in another look, in another script, another contemplation is probably only oneself. Does two glances can be mixed, really share what's compose them, on one side or the other, coming through. Stand within the place of the tiger, maybe it was me who hypnotized?
Object, subject, of course I mix everything but the important thing is the dream devouring.

myriam eyann
Elvis Presley Paralysed 1956

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