When the rain falls on these imaginary landscapes of real emotions, open, I absorb it all. I curl up… Unfurl a wing. I search for my anchor points. Every day, I let myself be crossed by the Styx!!
Since the pandemic until today, I journey, navigate… Every day, I cross the Styx! Oceanid or goddess, Styx personifies the river that separates the earthly world from the underworld. Daughter of darkness and night, she evokes for me the flow of emotions that traverse and shake me. With them, I seek a place: a fulfilling, vibrant space!
“The place,” as Claire Marin said, is “a reassuring place where one does not bump into darkness. A place that protects our sleep and our secrets.” I think I was looking for that… A reassuring and alive place! A place just for me! When we question the concept of place, a multitude of expressions come to mind…
Make a place for oneself, Be in one’s place, Put someone in their place, Leave room, Take place, Set in place, Hold one’s place, Make room
All of these involve feelings, emotions… Place questions the relationship with oneself and others. Whether concrete or abstract, place is first a geographical space, then symbolic and even metaphorical! Place is also a space where we (and others) project ourselves, where we journey, where we travel.
In Chile, when riders move through the mountains to herd their flocks, they don’t say “I’m going up” but “I’m going inside.” That’s where I went… in depth. The living, vibrant place became fluid, destabilizing… I stumbled. I was shaken. I made room! Layer after layer, stratum after stratum, I traversed the territories of my overflowing emotions. I tried to hold my place! I sat within myself, sought a new place… I made room!
Through the sphere of the intimate, I address issues related to meaning, where textiles give form to what is sometimes impossible to perceive. These imaginary landscapes are a means of reclaiming the narrative of emotions, of re-rooting oneself, of finding one’s place. It is a place in itself… to oneself! In perpetual adjustment, undeniably sensitive, always worked, often poetic, my artistic practice, My Place, allows me to inhabit the world in a lively way, as Boris Cyrulnik says, “to create a shareable world” and to crystallize the foam of my emotions.
