AND THEN THIS TIME THAT FLIES

 

These canvases woven and revealed by the dust deposited over the years send us back to ourselves. 
To this mixture of strength and fragility intertwined.

 

Paintings like self-portraits of which we are more or less the masters.
 

Yes time flies too ... Wonders!

Of course I am talking about wrinkles here and there, marks of sorrows and joys, of old age too! Of those which lessen more or less under our daily care, of "which occupy us well"  ! Fine and deep, intersecting or not.

Finally, traces, reminders of this allotted, ephemeral time, of our bodies, which is never more carrier than if we dance with it and not, endlessly, ...

​

Against him !

​

Helene.