Un Mince Vernis de Realite Un Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de RealiteUn Mince Vernis de Realite
Un Mince Vernis de Realite

4 monographs by Céline Clanet, François Deladerrière, Géraldine Lay, Geoffroy Mathieu
Essay by Michel Poivert

FILIGRANES (FRANCE), 2005
4 books in a box, 120 pp. 85 color photographs, 4.7'x6.5', softbounds
ISBN 978-2-914381-99-4

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Filigranes



[A thin layer of reality]
In this work, I do not picture anything that comes within the event, the extraordinary, or even the anecdotal. Few subjects are filling these images: things or people, most of them are isolated, lost in a moment of silence. These solitary reveries are broken with landscapes, as if they were taking place each time in a new scenery. Travel, mobility and stillness mix up, providing a pretext for contemplation. This is about inviting to see the smallest fissure of reality, its slightest crack that would let us see its unexpected fragility.
The photographic medium helps me to gather these moments in which reverie’s solemnity takes place.

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[...] This artist’s universe is built upon the will to shape a dialogue between woman and nature. When appears the car’s symbolic icon (this commonplace object synonymous with the woman herself, shall we believe), it is abandoned, in hibernation, the object is set appart as the women’s body deepens into meditation. A meditative state on which the artist contantly insists by setting up a parallel between the woman and the home area, the forest area, the sea area and finally the male trophy that nobody ever conquered (the abandoned reindeer antlers), and that rottens without having ever fought. The woman that we assume to be old, turns away from this improbable seduction attribute, as if she would turn away from a painful past.
Céline Clanet is not one of those who forsake the thread of metaphors : the forest is now inhabited, and it let us see the living calf gazing at us, its body tensed as if surprised by the hunter, from whom it remains out of reach. [...]

Michel POIVERT, in "L’inconscient prosaïque ou le goût des cadavres exquis"

 

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