This noise inside us

Imagined as a poetic act of repair, this project is a human and photographic experiment. It was born from the memory of my grandmother. Can grass grow on a piece of fabric to make the tear disappear?

Imagined as a poetic act of repair, this project is a human and photographic experiment. It was born from the memory of my grandmother, a woman who I took for a witch with her long gray hair and her brooms made from tree branches. When she came to spend a few days with us, she would mend socks. Patiently in front of the fireplace, she showed me how to weave the yarn, intertwine the wool and remove the wear. Later, while gardening and removing pieces of grass from a terrace overgrown with vegetation, I came up with the idea of ​​reusing clothes with holes in them with plant parts. Can grass grow on a piece of fabric to make the tear disappear?

My body, our bodies are archives, the book of our stories and the memory of our emotions. Inside we write our loves, our scars, our dreams and our wounds. Inside this noise that animates us, this screaming stomach and our attempts to silence it.

Are photos magical acts?

I invite bodies to carry the earth to feel it on us, in us. We are wounded and we have to reinvent ourselves. In the midst of scattered memories and possible futures, I imagine another landscape, as we come out of the gray of the city to breathe. I dig into my roots to transform the traces of my past. In a garden in ruins where vegetation takes its place, I question my ambiguous links to plants, my consumption habits, the relationships I have with clothes, fashion and the porosity between my hands and what I caress.

“But whether violent tremors tear the heart of the earth, whether hurricanes pass through the air at breakneck speed, nature remains the same. She heals the wounds she inflicted, and begins to prosper again, even more beautifully, indestructible! indestructible!" Dohm, Hedwig, Become who you are. Editions Corti, p105, 2009