LIVING IN THE CLOUD
L E C I E L B L E U E T M A R I E – A N T O I N E T T E
B L U E I S T H E W A R M E S T C O L O R
W I N D S O N G 2
T H E B I R D ‘ S E M P I R E
T O O T H E R P L A N E T S
M E N T A L H I S T O R Y
I M A G I N A T I O N O F W A R
T H E B O M B E D H O U S E ( F I L M )
U P P E R S T A T I O N S
P A N O R A M A
Looking for Chapter Zero. A painted panorama with a diameter of 7 meters.
In the attempt to find Chapter Zero, in which it would be stated why things are the way they are, thousands of ripped book pages lie scattered in a half fictive, half authentic landscape. The urban surroundings with spinning skaters, half pipes, tags and pieces and the fallen words on the horizon, which appear to be nothing more than empty slogans, leads one to suspect the end of the language.
W O R D S
The words of all our thoughts lie strewn in books, letters, computers, and graffiti. Words contrived of a few letters, in order to give everything a meaning. The possibilities of these words are boundless and so also their meanings. Meanings that take on a life of their own. But a life that real life doesn’t seem to notice.
V I E W M A S T E R
Obsessed, I looked through one of the 36 small windows of my room, through one piece of a fragmented panorama of New York. Each window framed a different story. On the first day, I had masked the room, six large windows with thin white paper, cut 36 small windows out of the paper, and written, above each window, the country to which it belonged. The size of each window corresponded to the number of emigrants from that country who had settled in the U.S. over the last 40 years. Each day, I became more and more astonished by the relationships between the countries represented by the window and the views they revealed. When I looked through Jamaica, I saw Jamaica; when I looked through Vietnam, I saw Vietnam; and so on. The strange thing was that when I stepped into the street, all those views dissolved into a meaningless, incoherent muddle. And when I looked up at my room with the dark holes of the cut-out windows, it became a greater mystery as to how all those views -specific stories- had been sucked in with precision.
U N K N O W N U N K N O W N S
P R I V A T E H E A V E N