It’s well-known that madness is not Art, as well as the contrary.

But it’s also true that fragments of madness regularly appear in the creation process. In a sign, intentionally dropped and out of control. Driven by instinct. In a haunting theme, resumed thousands and thousands of times. In a ghost that always follows us.

And we work on an uncertain ridge, on the involuntary overcoming of a forbidden threshold, on the black and sharp thread of the precarious balance from which we fall more and more. Looking for deeper clearness.

Of the “madness”. This has been and is our lunatic asylum. A torment lasted a year, which now we carry with us together with the unexpected and free lightness of a line made of white feathers. A white Shock...Sottoshock