Paradox of the work introduced in itself, but which by its very presence sends us back to fiction: the one we share, the time of an instant, with the artist. This fiction which emerges from a pure and cold metal that the artist has been able to subjugate to his imagination: look how, in Flirt, the shapes intertwine, envelope and come in motion. The result: a work-character or object-which seems to enliven before us and which, yet, exist in whole independence.

Once created, the work does not belong neither to the artist, or sculptor but to itself. Its why we foresee that she will not leave: she waits, la ( Lady at handkerchief ) . We willingly imagine, as part of her being, an upbringing which gives her today, this restraint, this modesty, this grace. This restraint which makes she will not move.This modesty which makes she will not speak. This grace, at last, which makes her of an unspeakable beauty. Unspeakable because her invisible presence invites us, not to move, to whisper, to be silent, to look at her as if she did not see us. In fact she does not see us, she is somewhere else, la ( Lady at handkerchief).

Elsewhere? Its from somewhere else that the artist's ideas come from- have you ever come across a Goui-Goui or a Twist? An elsewhere where truth becomes beauty. An elsewhere where that which seems necessary to us is, in fact, contingent. An elsewhere which offers us new perspectives. An elsewhere, at last which plays according to our rules and our canons. Look at l'Humanoide " Maryline " : 90-30-90. Measurements which would make to dream all the machines of the universe, from the electric mincer to D2R2. The top model of humanoids- several times Miss Galaxy-perched on her stainless steel heels, exposes her sculptural silhouette. Passing on earth, ambassador of stainless steel beauty, takes the pose and surprises herself dreaming. A stainless steel made humanoid's dream. A never ending dream which began a day in an artist's studio.