𝓝𝓔𝓒𝓡𝓞𝓟𝓞𝓛𝓘𝓢

Ha nice!

I’ll have this garden to grow until Quebec national holiday.

Sadly, people from Quebec city are dying inside and much is to be done. With such pictural composition, I move forward and backwards constantly to organize a macroscopic space, at the picture level, and a microscopic space, at the topological level. But as we painters know well, the pictural device delivers instantaneously all the content at once. This object of polarized positioning is then emitting a phenomenal configuration of a multiplicity of sight, dislocating the habit of the immutable position of the singular point of view. In time, I’m aiming toward an aesthetico-pharmacological regime of conceptual activity enacting the ritual of spiritual repatriation for their shell to be filled with vigour once again. At the tip of my nose, a hybridization of De Sade’s and Giger’s works will guide me toward a trans-erotic structure for world-building.

As they relegate the core of their cultural soul to bureaucratic means, Quebecers have forgone the echo of transcendental wisdom to a labyrinth, effectively acting as a silencer. In this necropolis that they’ve now got familiar with, aesthetic occurrences as been completely subdued to semiological panoramas.

They are starved and asphyxiated.

I continue hoping that I can infuse some life into this cultural wasteland.

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