A selection of artworks to momentarily escape from the gloom of reality to a world where domesticated baguettes flirt with fashion-conscious swans, embezzled dolphins peddle soot, and hypothetical goons shatter eggshells in the nasal passage of a clarinet player.
During those years, I often paired my artworks with prose like inseparable twins—sometimes the visual emerged first, and other times the text took the lead.
- Type: Personal
- Year: 2017-2020
Conspiracy in baritone (2017)
You may think that you can co-exist as a muffled hallelujah in a heron’s natural habitat, but it’s all just a conspiracy in baritone.
Mumble your afternoon recitals in Esperanto all you want, the watchful triangle of sonic highs will never be your circle of trust.
So until all the dolphins are diamond studded, just raise your tear-filled chalice to this loud misunderstanding and put your nightcap on.
Militant swans (2017)
Envy of an oil spill in the eyes of angels, anvil possessing the psychic powers of ginger in powder form. Duality of reason and passion, it’s the grand symphony of the militant swans muttering ancient scriptures to eradicate fashion.
Vol précipité (2017)
Préparez vos récépissés pour ce vol précipité à destination d’un précipice paradisiaque où les écrevisses sont presbytes et insomniaques.
Grâce au savoir-faire de l’hôtesse diamantaire, à bord vous bénéficierez des meilleurs soins rudimentaires et d’une savoureuse intoxication alimentaire.
Souriante, elle vous accueillera à coups de crosse avec l’amabilité d’une grotte. Vous penserez l’avoir eu dans l’os, cela vous apprendra à confondre carrosse et carotte.
The smog salesman (2017)
All hail the smog salesman in his flashy suit, proud peddler of life-saving soot that can turn a regular handkerchief into a blacked out parachute.
Bringing chaos in the respirators of global warming deniers caught snogging an asparagus as he floats in his gravity-defying smoking apparatus.
A non believer in space, rejoicing as his fogged up demeanor is all going to waste like of a shiver delivered in haste. So is this how raw liver tastes?
Calculus (2018)
The eternity of a moment sucked into the black mirror of self-calculation feels like being trapped in the cell of despicable Excel sheet where the even sum of all the odd digits is so uplifting that it triggers a sudden downpour of profoundly loved utensils capable of shattering your arithmetic like a fragile eggshell if it wasn’t for the protection of your best friend’s goon.
Cactus among cacti (2018)
Marvel at this benevolent cactus snoozing among the tightly screwed cacti until he eventually remembers the absolute value of pi.
Selflessly holding on to the last inflatable E for a lack of a better I, ready for when the rest of the vowels emigrate to merrier plains to die.
Cheer up old chap it’s not time to sigh, life is botanically beautiful on a tamed baguette that believes it can fly. Enjoy it to the last crumb, go on bake some pie.
The chocolate resurrector (2018)
Plunged in the enchanted obscurity that blankets his facial features like a veil of shame, the chocolate resurrector bravely challenges the lowest common denominator to a mean-spirited sword duel between abundance and scarcity.
Defeated in what felt like a high-pitched duet in a cross-country race to the top of a sugary skyscraper, the rebel with the hooded dome enslaved a flock of punk hummingbirds to cross-stitch the inflicted cuts until they gave up their immoral confections for immortality.
He will now have to eternally live in denial of his true sweetness while fending off the uppercuts of the twelve hundred Siamese twins born out of the frivolous gentrification inside a time capsule like liposuction sucking out all his freckles, spots, pimples and eventually his whole identity.
Déesse asthmatique
Les doigts en cendre pointés vers le ciel qui ensemble forment l’arbre à cames sur lequel poussaient les grandes respirations de nos aïeuls. Passage à tabac pour un peu d’écorce dérobé en embrassant le tronc de nos adieux, bonjour tristesse.
Belle déesse asthmatique à la chevelure de feu, est-ce une luciole qui brûle encore en rigolant de votre splendide toux ? Un manque d’air sur les autoroutes pulmonaires étouffe la flamme de votre volonté comme un poil dans la main.
Une promesse qui résonne entre quatre murs de briquets, c’est promis j’arrête demain.
Eye to eye (2018)
Perish the thought of us ever seeing eye to eye, I won’t return your calls or cut your cheddar but you could always try, to have a fulfilling relationship with my bow tie.
Petite molaire (2018)
Dis-moi petite molaire, comment ces bains de vinaigre conservent ils ta peau ? Est-ce le biofuel qui te serre le coeur comme un étau ? As-tu déjà demandé ton chemin à ton propre reflet dans un étang introverti ?
Dis-moi petite molaire, comment se fait-il qu’il pleuve des serpentins multicolores lorsque tu emmènes tes belvédères en sinecure de thalasso ? Pourquoi le bleu de tes yeux n’est-il pas aussi intense que le pourpre du poulpe ?
Dis-moi petite molaire, à quoi servent ces équarrisseurs sur la piste d’atterrissage ? Sont-il des ducs qui picorent le surplus d’ammoniac sur le dos nu des marchands de magnoc ? Y avait-il un brin de sarcasme dans ton dernier numéro de haute voltige, n’as tu donc plus le vertige ?
Dis-moi petite molaire, ne sens-tu pas ce coulis de fruits rouges en poupe encourager ses saints à devenir une nouvelle forme de voûte plantaire ? N’as-tu plus de réponses ? Donnerais-tu ta langue au chat ? Pas vraiment digne d’un représentant de l’espèce canine.
Vaffanculo et adieu (2018)
Le chevalier paresseux est vaillant comme la poudre de perlimpinpin qui lui picotait les yeux, fonçant corps et âme vers son nid de crystal dans les cieux tout en tirant un vieux nuageux qu’il vénérait comme un dieu, amouraché d’améthyste et de métal précieux, c’est avec le coeur et sans rancune qu’il vous dit vaffanculo et adieu.
Mr Nosey (2018)
Looks like Mr. Nosey made a new friend.
Violin of fear (2018)
The urchin-headed violinist plays a lullaby for the orchid-scented fire ants craving lead in a last attempt to rid himself of his deeply rooted fear of empty rooms, half-chewed jelly beans and calvados.
Testicular concert (2018)
Meet Lil’ Ballsy, your new favourite clarinet player.
The high life (2018)
Meet the pest you never knew you needed enter your field of vision, and join this voracious feeder flirting with hypothermia on a mid-body flatulent adventure to chronic brain freeze.
Venting off your excess heat perched on a remodelled cedar quadrupede unravelling a hypothetical newborn with icicles for a nose by every wiggle of your straw. Isn’t that the high life you’ve always dreamed of?
Pay no mind to the disapproving head tilt of the gelato-headed planking shell of a man with a sprinkle overcoat and unnecessarily enticing genitals. Keep sucking the life out of him like every day is a Wednesday night.
The perpendicular refill is on the house.