Textiles Trends S/S 2016
We enter the era of appeasement. The end of a race without a finish line, without a track even. We have gone back to our origins, tracking the index of our future; we spontaneously projected ourselves in an uncertain future, praying for the beginning of an answer to be outlined. But the universe remained unsoundable, time unceasingly returned us to our single reality: the present. We are done with fighting the windmills of time, wasting nonrenewable energy, our own. Neither hope, nor despair. A lifesaving release to finally taste the moment before the days’ taste fades away. Yesterday hasn’t taught us anything, tomorrow hasn’t shown us anything, only today remains and its eternity contained in the density of one moment. The horizon of the events outlines an existentialist epicureanism. To finally be completely present, because all reality has slipped through our fingers, sand glass of our hopes, making way for a hypothetical universe. Occurrence has become the only tangible landmark, the age-long reference. We finally live in our time. To be has replaced to become. The era of mindfulness.
We travel in a bubble out of time, carried by the sole reality of the present. Without amnesia, we are the children of a past which we take responsibility for but refuse to repeat. In a digestion of knowledge, we open a path of pure originality, a suprarealism, a new mashup of our history. Inspired without reproducing, the constraints of the cultures and the eras collapse into a sole aggregate. Without future, the present becomes the ultimate summary of humanity, a collision of knowledge, new compression of the human identity. While we are aware of the uselessness and the disaster of the past, we do not forget anything, but divert everything. The icon is dead and the altar of our worship arises blindly, accommodating creation without judgment. The experiment is no longer a means, but the noblest goal, that of a time aware that it has nothing else to do but live and try. We have left all known paths and are tracing a new one. Happiness is not part of the destination, but of the road.
It is the most intimate of our acquaintances, whom we do not even look at any more, almost part of ourselves. And yet, without the eye of Do-Ho Suh, we have trouble recognizing it, our cocoon, our protection, our home. The Korean reinvents not only the architectural concept of the home, but even that of intimacy, protection and safety. Reality takes shape like a diagram, a draft, hardly more tangible than an idea in the mind of an architect, a rapidity maintaining the lightness of the stroke. A veil of possibilities where tradition installs and demands the greatest stability, the weight of comfort commanded by the fear of tomorrow.
Transforming waste into everyday objects, like instant recycling, immediate reincarnation, is not only a total upending of values, but also means reinterpreting our past and rewriting our future. Andrew Simpson is an artist of his time, aware of 3D printing and the latest software, but he uses ancestral crafts. A dance between the usual know-how and original foresight. An approach freed from any influence, growing a tree never seen on a ground nourished by history.
It is quite simply a new definition of freedom, a reappropriation of the universe so deep that neither gravity, nor verticality seem to exist. A world where imagination draws a new reality that Lewis Carroll himself would have called a fantasy. While shouting “the sky is not the limit” at the face of the world, Bandaloop quite simply reinvents the universe, imposing a truth: the present is infinite. The limits of our future have followed the limits of our prospects. Bandaloop experiments and invents, hustles the perspectives, causes change, orders thoughts and makes any stagnation impossible.
Having become contemplative of a present as the sole incarnation of our reality, the fixedness would resonate like a prison for us and for a future which we know not to be predictable. Our environment becomes evolutionary to offer the freedom of possibility to these beings which merely live in the moment. Stiffness and certainty are out of this world, each second is its own universe, independent, unique. Everything is created, as if resulting from nothing, at every moment and is put out immediately to make way for a new birth. We live on a beach where the waves of the present constantly wash up and erase new futures. Everything is possible and nothing is for sure. Not wanting to elude any future, to show any preference while we let go, we create a field of possibilities as vast as the eternity of the moment.
Our senses get mixed up and our sole contact with reality no longer accepts any borders, nor limits. Sound becomes visible, we listen with our eyes and our emotions. The world has become moldable and its approach revolutionized. Water, still, inspires us and returns its chemical schizophrenia to our field of possibilities ever less restricted. Beauty emerges from everywhere in this world which no longer closes, which neither identifies, nor limits. Reduction is not from this world, openness is the only universal rule.
Nobody knows what the piece will look like. It is placed in the hands of the inhabitants. Each tweet, each message develops an additional layer. But in this evolutionary work, it is the content of the messages itself which determines the colors used. Reflecting the mood of the inhabitants of the city and allowing, in real time, to draw the state of mind of a locality at a given moment. Nothing is fixed, nothing is cold. The evolution of our emotions draw the profile of a city, through rational words and arguments.
Liquid, absolute symbol of letting go, fitting the shape of its host, adapting, accepting every environment. The element of Amor Fati. Personification of our time, liquid glorifies itself, becomes a bouquet of colors, a burst of emotions. Instantaneous and furtive. The New York artist-couple seizes the fleeting of a moment, time in perpetual and rapid movement, imperceptible change, the beauty of which must be captured while appreciating that grace merely emerges and never lingers. A blast of possibilities offering fugitive and eternal epiphany.
We are no longer dispersed between the desire of the past and hope of the future, we completely live in our time. A presence so dense that our incarnation exceeds our only envelope. We project our being on our environment, and the latter, as the sole interlocutor, reflects our own desires in an anthropomorphic dialogue. Manufactured coldness no longer has its place in a universe which is satisfied by the moment only. The present having become our single vision, we load it with warmth and feelings. We equip it like our only home. Emotion perspires in an environment freed from the rational which has merely led to an uncertain future. Each object becomes an extension of our being, engraining the human in its present a little more. A shift as unperceived as it is real.
Even the imperceptible wind becomes art. Herman Kolgen and David Letellier have materialized the weather data of four cities, Montreal, Nantes, Rennes and Quebec. Each cold scientific data, is translated by an orientation of these giant horns in which the wind is engulfed and strikes up its symphony, not divine, but human, too human. The weather, in real time, offers a concert connecting the geographical opposites and makes one feel the imperceptible.
September 14-16, 2015
from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.
September 17, 2015
from 9 a.m. to 4.30 p.m.
The fair is only open to trade visitors, access is not available to private visitors.
The photographs, too clear, too polished, too perfect, become artificial because of this. The Brazilian artist upsets technology and infuses it with human imperfection. This blur which gives the photograph a soul, which creates good, almost involuntarily. A graphic design born from chaos, from experimenting. In this meander, everyone perceives what they wish for, like a mirror designed by Rorschach. Dialogue thus becomes possible through a photo removed from its stability. Coldness is no longer attractive.
It is a sort of modern version of the tale of Carlo Lorenzini. Life is breathed into an element which one only knows to be cold, mechanical. But these high precision drones are equipped, luminous, have become anthropomorphic personalities, reflections of childish fantasies. The mechanical cold answers human gestures, draws a ballet the harmony of which defies, or rather accompanies, human creation in its nobler intentions. Our environment has come alive.
Still fragile in our presence in the moment, in our release, we are tempted to look over the wall of the future. As we cannot leave today, we attract tomorrow. Precipitating the erosion, the inescapable in order to finally perceive this future that we are denied. An acceleration of time dictated by our impatience and our anchored desire to choose and take action. A refusal of the pleasure of the moment and a cynical growth in the shade of our fears born from frustrated desires. A Memento Mori that we whisper into our own ears as if the joy of contemplation were too soft for a being nourishing its creation with its sufferings. A masochistic but creative projection.
Each place of exhibition wishing to accommodate the work of Walead Beshty receives boxes made out of laminated glass by FedEx. The final piece is merely created at the time of its unpacking when the hazards of the trip, the inescapable deteriorations have done their work. A passive but voluntary deterioration, a destruction of the artistic Utopia of the aesthetic whole. The ruin becomes art, the inevitable conclusion becomes the pleasure of the moment. The beauty of today lies in the ugliness of tomorrow.
Contemplation has a limit: that of creation. Living in the present requires leaving things as they are. Ed Spence thus contents himself with rearranging, rethinking reality. By carving out the moment and reorganizing it according to his vision, he maintains an illusion of temporality, of a futuristic structure with elements never having left the unchanging present. A way of recalling that the present, if it is not to be modified, can be apprehended with a new eye, an eye which will always allow man to create from the ever-lasting moment.
The artist reveals the shadows. The shadow of the wear and tear of the present. The shadow of our clothing masking a forgotten reality. The shadow of our desires which seek nudity with as much certainty as they seek to camouflage it. But Michel Lamoller does not reveal himself, like an epiphany that is too obvious, like the sudden flash of a new reality. No, Michel Lamoller cuts out, erodes, lets the shadow come to us, as if to clear himself of any action in a time when we are not meant to leave the present, the artist opens the door to the future.