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Galerie Les Filles-du-Calvaire

7/1/2017 to 7/29/2017
When: Saturday, July 1, 2017
Where: Galerie Les Filles-du-Calvaire
United States

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We are entering the forest. The journey is long by the river. We are getting deeper into the waters. Guided by Eduardo Kohn’s book*, I
came to look for a non-human language through which vegetables, animals and insects communicate with signs, legends, trances and
the dream.


We are enchanted by the graciousness of the forest: the glitters of light under the canopies, the coolness of foliage, the symphony of birds, insects, drops of water leaking from big leaves and absorbed by the moss at our feet.


Noémie Goudal explores the Thai forest, analyzes it and tries to identify each element and each sound. It is an unsolvable puzzle
that goes beyond the mind.


Images, memories, scents and sounds erupt. What was unknown unfolds in color and shapes like hybrid and familiar reconstitutions. Susana Meija lives in the Amazonian forest. That is where the Colombian artist has settled her alchemist laboratory. She sweats colors out of plants and prints them on fig paper.

The night is about to fall. Our walk is rocked by the sound of frogs. We light up a fire that timidly sets out of humidity. The forest is a shelter. We find the rest we were longing for. Jean-Yves Leloup’s sound creation reminds us that the voice of the forest never keeps quiet. It unfolds in captivating variations.


The night suddenly falls. The noises become alarming. We are scared, we feel lost in this versatile world. We have to sleep on the lookout.
Here, our sleep is always interrupted. Us, humans and non-humans, we dream of each other. A dream continued during daytime.


With François Fleury, on a small boat in the heart of the Amazonia, the water reflects the ballet of branches and creepers. Everything waves tirelessly. The forest is a world which veins, pores and all entangled vertical and horizontal levels call for a speed-up transcendence.
Our eyes are twisting in their sockets: our brain sees !


We are the forest. We are a snake. We are a witch turning into a fish and feeding on resin. A fern. A fluorescent mushroom. We are
a centenary tree in the arms of which Russian artist Olva Krovtor is wrapped like a plastic chrysalis. We are part of a whole. We cannot
get away from it.


Eyes spy on us at nighttime. Laura Huertas Millán takes us in the heart of an artificial forest. She invokes the voices of conquerors from past centuries. The forest is a resilient space that one does not invade. In spite of our desire to take a hold of it, the forest remains free.


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