Photography series, video, captions, bolduc thread, wood, dyed sands

Trips to America and mirages from my apartment, Paris - FR

Mirages result from the incurvation of light rays that reflect on the overheated layers of the atmosphere as the latter gets close to the soil. It gives the impression of a reflection in a large body of water.

I focus on the desert horizon, I see this ridge, stretched over the void. It is a rupture in the visible of the sandy waves. I look in the distance at this limit, this boundary that floats and wobbles and bends under the asphyxiating heat. 
It winds up on its line of conduct, its sizzles and crackles like fire. The horizon is a kind of living edge, a ghost that blurs our view and suddenly rises up to come and caress us. The horizon can be read, either from close-up or far away. The accommodating eye clashes with the incessant variation of the landscape. Mirages are reality, yet there is not volume. It escapes our sight like a fugitive . The fog of the sun paints images that disappear. Only the colorful tremors allow us to feel the desert's geodesy. Géodésir.