There is a Darwish poem about a place that becomes itself retrospectively, quietly where its image, its likeness in memory is stronger than the place itself. Dialectics, maybe a penchant for nostalgia but then, aren't myths our interpretation of history? Home isn't a landline the ocean wasn't blue, a gist is more than the sum …
september 17th, 2022
The time I spend in museums is not enough. I’ve always been a student of art history, since my adolescent years, but had no interest then in the collecting of fine hobbies. I used to find it pretentious, to roam sterile halls lined with 'Please Do Not Touch' signs and to regurgitate facts you read …
The-Bleu-Bivouac 