The remembrance of a drama, and an unexpected confession.
A voice-over, as often in my films. This time it is a dialogue, but we hear only one of two voices, that of the listener. So we are put in the place of the one who speaks, who confesses an inaudible drama. But because we don’t hear that voice, we are actually adopting the point of view of the one who is listening. Something you can’t hear, something to guess. Where are we now?
An attempt to delicately articulate the spectator’s place in relation to the film, for a serious subject that requires a lot of listening.
I make short films as a painter makes paintings, usually in a lonely way, away from academic practices of making cinema. Some films are made in a very spontaneous way, others can take years to mature. I explore the meeting between the image and the world. These are experimental works, which often also tell stories...