The large house

The mansion is the evocation of a memory: the small furniture and the tiny stage want to tell a story. The work is a resistance to oblivion. During the process of elaboration, my family and I took on the task of drawing the objects and furniture we had at the time. We had not realized that oblivion had already taken over many things. Somehow, we knew it from the beginning. We had always been waiting for it, perhaps from the very day we could no longer keep the photos in the family album. We had to discard, one by one, the fungus-filled photographs that were nothing more than wet colors fading into the paper. We kept a few in which some details still allowed us to recognize ourselves. The house also disappeared after three years, when it was demolished. The photograph of the projected house was taken two days before its destruction. 

From the drawings made by my family, I began to make the furniture with pieces of wood that I found lying in the street. I painted them as I remembered them. When I decided to project the house onto the furniture, it was just a ghost that brushed against them. The image of light could never take them in; they remained in a continuous outside, which was even more accentuated when the ghost of light of the projected house bounced off the wall, leaving an even fainter image. The small pieces of furniture took on a lonely and silent appearance.