Going to Rendez-vous du carnet de voyage in Clermont Ferrand, collecting things, deciding what to bring and what to leave.
On the dark side of a mask is shown, what can never be seen: a face from its inside – from its tactile inside, which I may perceive only by my senses: the tongue touching the teeth, the air streaming through the nose, the eyes, rolling back and forth in my skull. At the same time the inside of the mask gives the impression of gazing back through its empty eyeholes – an almost insane inverted / introverted, gaze. Given the digital development of surveillance and facial recognition some words by Nietzsche may sound prophetic: “In that state he is (…) like the weird picture of fairy tales, which can turn its eyes and contemplate itself.”
I am addicted to sketching. My movement through geography follows the concentric circles of my hand. Sketching is my way to be in the world; to participate in what I feel and see. I travel in shadows like Orpheus. The path goes along lines of carbon, graphite and water under a sky so blue that it is almost black. I sketch myself into big faceless cities, where everybody can be drawn, because no one looks me back in my eyes; or into remote places, mountains and glaciers, where there is nobody to draw, but the stones look human.