The first time I remember really having been conscious about silence was in the livingroom of my grandparents.
I must have been six or seven years old and suddenly found myself being deeply fascinated by the pause between the ticking of a clock. The introverted child that I was considered that – in this short period of complete absence of noise – doors to hidden, exciting worlds could open. I just had to listen.
Today, my art often refers to a concept of silence I have in mind. For me, silence is a kind of space. It can be a home, a landscape, a close encounter or a sharp border. It can be found within a soft and warm embrace or, as the quiet before a storm, cause intimacy or isolation.
Silence, in all of its manifestations, can inspire us in ways we don’t understand. I use my art to make this silence visible. Creating art – which in my case means painting and sculpting – lets me realize and embrace a part of myself which is inaccessible otherwise.
My current artworks are playful explorations of airiness and gravity, density, translucence, light and space.
Furthermore, my art has been influenced by nature, especially the sea, and by the vibrant light and colours of the south of France where I love to spend my time.