Le monde est ainsi est ainsi rêvée en en sa rondeur, en sa rondeur de fruit. 
La Poétique de la rêverie, Gaston Bachelard

Tu es un artiste, hélas tu ne peux plus te refuser le précipice monstrueux de tes yeux.
Le Funambule, Jean Genet

Le monde est ainsi est ainsi rêvée en en sa rondeur, en sa rondeur de fruit.
La Poétique de la rêverie, Gaston Bachelard

« Le soleil sur le lac s’attarde comme un paon. »
Dépaysage, Jean-Clarence Lambert


Disc, sphere, circle, bubble.

The circle strikes the eye as a taut, sensual absolute. Its softness and fluidity allows it to slip from any grasp: it rolls and bounces. In suspension, it is a pendulum in infinite movement. It is haunting in its complete, vertiginous solitude. As a black hole, it sucks in everything. The white circle is an oasis.
A self-sufficient whole, with no possible room for negotiation: a perpetual revolution. Formal autarchy, never deformed by perspective. Awkward, even irritating intransigence. It is never held to account by angles. Out of reach, it defies all definition. A form without direction, orientation, circumference or finished surfaces. Only multiples of Pi, never resolved! The mystery of the equality of distances and the supremacy of the centre.
It could rotate, blindly, without the eye ever finding an uneven edge. Perpetually off on a tangent, an airborne acrobat.

Globe, planet, sun, orbit.

It struggles to share its visual space with others. To adapt to its counterparts, perfect bodies in exile. Lined up, ordered circles, ugly and bland. Is the circle doomed to geometrical solitude? Can it only find balance in an astral, rugged, fragmented landscape? It shines there. A celestial body whose perfection gives it an aura of mystery. Divine and mystical, it becomes the sign of a higher intelligence.

A paradoxical object, a symbol of rationality, it is lucid yet uncomfortable; it never settles. Centred on itself, frozen in a perpetual return, yet always imperceptibly turning.
Ouroboros the snake bites its tail, we go round in circles: it still eludes.

The circle is an ideal that guides the pencil. It brings warmth to the drawing with its vibrations, and deforms it by highlighting sensuality, initiating fragility. It injects irrationality into forms, life into objects, and emotion into stability. Asymmetry is a form of risk-taking, with the threat of the fall, even in a closed figure. Tentative visual harmony: one misstep and it's a disappointing mode, at worst a failure. The path to timelessness, grace, difference and emotion is a narrow one.

Oscillation, equilibrium, decision.

So it goes with these objects. Out of a gliding circle, pinch one tip to enhance the elegance. A dynamic or organic form and a hesitant dance, it sometimes flirts with vulgarity, the overwrought, with excessive sensuality. In an uncertain sphere, try to find a measured, balanced, asymmetrical round form. Refine it without geometric curvature, without complacency. Position these bodies, accommodate them. Make objects for living, soften their lines. Round out angles, provide fluidity for our gaze. No edges that could inflict vertigo. No child to be injured by their songs. Our welcoming world, spanning rational industry and drawn imagination, as human beings demand in their bodily realities and their relationship to the natural world.

Dream, drawing, object.

Full stop.