On the walls patched catherine louise drève gives us a tour and a return in four phases.
An experience where one can hardly identify the scenes (they are there yet). The front and back are equal, bind.
1
all starts with an invitation to the unmade bed. A bed that breathes
While it could be so burdened or dig
Or freeze.
2
Can I enter an airport with squall lines. The planes are
foliage.
I'm relieved to be in a drawing.
I can not yet grasp everything
I am still very lonely
Different
Surrounded.
3
be found at the bed center, dry and ironed.
Three candles are reflected on a mirror placed on the ground.
They defy their environment to climb combative.
My heart aches and it-boulle.
This time the bed dug underground.
catherine louise drève serenity to his deputy during his backhand, whatever its name.
4 is the decline in veins of the tree to the heart.
Whoever did that contour lines can be found full-venous alive.
This awakens.
We are centrally in the hollow between two branches.
acute angles revive my arteries like this gnarled tree.
catherine louise drève transposes and our trip is the skin we are the interface between the inside and outside. All proportions. The man is scalable.
Personal experience is not said, she feels.
The artist takes us into the depths and the assumption.
No, it is not glorious.
It is raw, grainy like charcoal. She asked
ends without gaps and without remorse.
catherine louise drève plays with walls
To our mind repels
For they depart or envelop us as we passed.
Laetitia Bischoff
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