<\/p>\n
(There is a problem of translation – How to translate an improvised text and being exact…so so so it will be “freestyle”. And there is more in french…Forgive me…)<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n The camera on my right, its fisheye near of it. Computer in front of me… A lot of software… Pen, paint, Posca, scissors… The cask, the glasses… Plants (coming soon: the flowers!! Yeeees!) The holy virgin is near of me, black, as marble, serene… AVE MARIA…Do you exist? ahah… We laught of you… You don’t do miracles… What more do you have under your veil?<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n And the mirrors… and the stencils, the family, I, You, We, and You and They. Always here… There are the stars on the ceiling and Maurice not very far. But everything in a cube, outside the horns, the noise. It’s just a box, it’s just my room, it’s not really tall but it’s alive… Even if the walls are white, as the bad location of the death… So, it’s good but far from my roots but it’s good, it’s better… There, the old, the past, the feverish past, which flow of the eyes. So i leave,\u00a0 inside of my head, i go, i go far. Because there are the stones, the hearth stone, collected, here, release far, sometimes kept… from everwhere. The brain’s pain restrain you… go slowly… no. I don’t want…go!! they teach me to get a move on! To rush at work, in front of me, to watch far, without sea behind, it’ over, it’s finish… Don’t focus, let them leave… become remember… shhhhhhhhh! They stay here, they are in me… Shhhhhh… Don’t question yourself… you, you are her, live for them, live for him. Smile to him. Give him you joyce, he give you his strength… Don’t cry, not like this… that’s distressing… you don’t know, you don’t like yourself… alone… People are scary… People are in an other world. Big car, huge TV, big lips but they don’t fill their small\u00a0 heart with happiness<\/strong>. People speak, say bad things or shut up, cut the speech, break the com-com-communication. In the bubbles, in the town, everybody mix with other but the don’t regard themself, and don’t listen themself.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n The big car hidde him, isolate him, the big TV wait for him. No problems. too bad for them, sad for them, they lost everything.\u00a0 I hang me to the rainbow, kiss the ladybug, the clover grow up, the white bird fly… Flutter… I fall, I slide over the toboggan, arrive in the ocean… cloud protects… And all wet<\/strong>… The teals flow, who wets still. it’s not right, i was all dry… So i am very angry. Even if that don’t want to, that’s not really fine. but what do you want? Shut up! Listen, watch around\u00a0 you,\u00a0 smell, breath… touch… It’s cold, it’s hot… That’s sweet… that’s prickly…<\/strong> Soak your fingers, and shut up. It’s not the kite, just the little path, in the middle of the big field, it’s not dream, it’s real life… It’s just not far. There is a big noise and an impressive silent. <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Rustling of leaf, whistle of the eagle, sound of the water… transparent, see, sparkle, it’s you but shut up. Catch the picture, catch the signification, catch the essence.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I capture… I shut away, in the box of my body, in the veins, everywhere… but that don’t want to exit. I don’t know where to go, how to go there… Or I take the lines, in wool, in iron, I gather together, i weave, and i shape… the volume,the personal, and the very big… not yet with clothes, not yet really good form… a day you will exit.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n In fact i am lost… touch nothing… touch everything… A day maybe I will find. I will seat, I will fix, everything, in the sauce-pan, and mix the mary… Make your soup, put everything, nothing, a lot of empty things, of full things, put colors and grey, and black and fuzziness, and clear, old things and new too. Just Mademoiselle Maurice… A day when I will be tall, I will be an artist. So before to fit all that, before to shut away the nasties, to avenge the nice people, and to create my little world, I do the door… I create it, some parts of the door. Poetry… Life… Inside my head, it’s the jumble. More later, I will arrange. For the moment it’s utopia, passion, madness… The Maurice Universe. It’s not a man, it’s a girl… dream, nature, true, me…\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0*****\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0*****\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\u00b0<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Why the wool? <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n There are wool lines, the wool spin itself, the needle help to this. It’s more beautiful in english… in french “Laine”… In english “Wool”… As the wood, with just an L instead of the D… It’s more light like this. The lines mix with themself. Strew on the canvas, the material, zigzag, under, on, to do the inside or the around or the outline, to show.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Socks, scarf, hat, knitting, sheep, charcoal, weaving… miscegenation… comes and goes, inside the canvas, on, behind… draw… the way of the wool…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Ephemerals traces which have roots in my brain and after fly, paste at the tissues and swirl and do what it wants but guided by the needle. She says nothing but in the same time say everything… You do what you want with the wire wool… Knits, chic, choc, truck your hair, yac hair… tick tac… clack! clack! do the needles. Draw your wool, weave, “on-weave”, “out-weave”…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n The wool use different ways, by the envies. Winding and evoking the ideas of the moment. It will be only what about you dream, and what about you want to put in the garbage. We can take it, we can remove it… Ephemerals wool, wool which show you some “minds” Wool, you have created the peaceful man, you who say “peace and love”…You, Theresa mother, you, Gandhi, you the Dalai lama, you, you, you, wool created you. At one moment, At one minute, but everybody can remove your outlines to take a new voice, a new path.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u00f4 wool! what do you do? The cross! Yeah, not the choice… On their mouth…come on! Don’t be angry with me because i cut you… I want to remove you that time, and as consequently, you have not a bad end… You can give an evolution at your forms Mrs Wool. Just… the wool… pure… 100%… it’s not alive… nearly… that was on the sheep, the yak, gnu, hen, stag… Wool I like you, I keep you because you are so fresh even if you scrape. See you soon Mrs Wool.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Dear Madam, Dear Sir,<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Good morning, I am a young artist and blah blahblahblah…blahblahblah….<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I would be grateful blahblahblah blahblah…to exhibit in your gallery…blahblahblah blahblahblahblahblah… Artistically yours…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n There is only the end that i like……pffffffffffffffff… door to door salesman…brrrr…thrill… That rhyms with administration… papers… Hey! You know what mister the gallery man, what I do, it’s so cool! take me! sell me! In fact you have to say that but how do you want to say that!!!??? it’s impossible when you are\u00a0 not perfect…really…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n You don’t care… What you do, what you create, it’s because you want, you need this… You don’t do this to please people… It’s really great if some guys like what you do, that give the smile! But after if that don’t come from your heart, it’s BAD. That have to be pure spirit as the\u00a0 wool… *AUTHENTIC WOOL* Announcement number 2: need storage in my brain. All the times it’s misplaced… Mister, Can you sweep and tidy the\u00a0 <\/span>trinkets<\/span><\/strong> which are fallen from the shelf…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I Need a lot of space!!!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I have searched… trampled… torn It’s so much complicated in my head that i make square eggs, as the hens that he has pasted. I create square format, I realize square photographies, everythings is square… A compensation of the internal disorder you see… So afraid of the liqueaction… to become a puddle… So, I put my barriers… It annoys me. Where do I go? Photos, painting, ink, wool….<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I want to be Gainsbourg who burns billets in being a super hero in making style projects you see… Clark… You see… Code, code, CO-DI-FI-CA-TION… CLA-SSI-FI-CA-TION. Graphic-fashion but I don’t know how to do this and it’s not me… Have you been Mademoiselle Maurice? Yep! and I’m mad!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n uh… A mix of Heidi who listen hip-hop, Fifi brindacier who do “boum boum” on electronic music and a bit of the fan who likes fluorescent and sneakers with in the mouth a daisy what’s the name of? aaaahhh… ok… Mademoiselle Maurice..ok ..i like to laught of me… “Dust you will return dust”… You had right guy… We are the shit…oooouhhhh…swearing… I use too much swearing… But I can say too “I send you my best regards”.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n It’s strange as mix… Yep I speak “verlan” and i am angry too… Tssssss…..<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Between flower, tree and bitumen.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Cow town Versus grAffity city..<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n All this is just a question of influences.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n In fact I could be Mademoiselle SpongeBob Maurice the square pants…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n See, admire the talent of so much people… You are lost but you know now. I will blend everything because I can’t choose and I don’t want. Touch all, touch nothing<\/strong>. Excel in nothing but to excel it’s busy… no excuse<\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n Push the button… Go in the hole… I’ll fly away, in my mountain and take photos of the most pure people that i know… litle girl with big heart… Sista… That will be the beginning. The photo will run… The paint will cover it, the ink will slide and the wool will unite everything. That will be free-style. I stop calculating the proportion of the dimension and the be bid perfection in “balancism” on the canvas… bah bah bah bah I have to do as her.. not in “copy”… Not do as her because her it’s her but just do for me and don’t ask questions…. Testings is finished because now it’s the experimentations which begin! I don’t copy, I don’t know and I don’t want… that blocked me… if I take inspiration with X, Y and Z, I put it in the garbage after have tear everything. Picasso you did it. Me I don’t want. I don’t do innovation, just in the relation with what there is in my body and what there is outside, what’s happen there, and here. Tsssss. Narcissistic the artists… Navel, navel, say me who is the…. ah ah ah But you make me angry in fact… because around me a lot of things, fucking things happen which annoys me… grrrrr Injustice, i want to kill you. I want give some beauty, some hope, some love, some chance and\u00a0 some peace. It’s not a lot but… There is only to do… I get excited… I will avenge.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I have to be stone and just do… and I will never stop. Because I want to live with this… But really, the “artist” life, it’s the shit… “Hey! we are 12 thousands to create, who do you choose?” ha ha ha… SO many choice kill the choice… Why you and not you?… You..Error! Game over>>>exit Eliminated… abandonment… Breaking… Hype Stop to ask you question, you nothing master, shut your mouth and open your heart and do what you want! If that rules it’s good but if that stops, I will send car-pets… It’s warm for the feet the carpets.
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n2009-December-Part 1<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\nYou advance without stop. Behind you, watch, be careful, run! Don’t stop. You pass away, the blood freeze, snails, peaceful, slowly, watch you… What do you said?
\nBlow, smoke, in the cartoons it’s the same… breath cut, they want to kill you, the spines bend itself, ouch! But why… Stop this.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\nThe brushs help me a little bit even if they become dusty. So I click on my keyboard, I frame, or not, I development, and click…<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nMars 2010-part2<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nMai 2010-part 3<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n