Milles Feuilles

Performance presented at Isba Beaux-Arts, Besançon,Organised by Valentine Verhaeghe & Groupe Ar(c)action building  The painter does not paint on an empty canvas, and neither does the writer write on a blank page; but the page or canvas is already so covered with preexisting, pre-established clichés, that it is first necessary to erase, to clean, to flatten, even to shred so as to let in a breath of air from the chaos that brings us the vision. Gilles Deleuze I sit at the office, I have an integrated microphoneI wear a mask made of comic clippings of Charlie HebdoI eat and spit on a plate small golden decorative stonesThe dish has an illustrated cat on itI try to cut the cat with the cutleryI put red lipstick on my lipsI place my hands on two white sheets of paperI kiss the outline of my hands on the paperI rip the paper pieces and throw them to the peopleI move to a heap of leavesI open a hole and I hide my body in the leavesinside there is hidden a golden decorative ball and a hammerI move slowly removing the tangled leaves from my hairI search through the leaves the hammer and the golden ballwhen I find them I get up slowly taking the leaves off meI touch my tongue to the tip of the hammerI get the golden ball and kick it to the space holding the hammerI strike the ball until it breaksI wear the half broken piece on my headthe other half I use it as a mirrorI leave throwing away the mask's clippings looking through the mirror