Everything happens.
The feel of a garment, a seam, a
label, a scent wafting through a room,
the smell of a household product, the texture of a
food.
Every sensation demands to be acknowledged.
None fades away to make way for
the next.
A light that’s too bright, voices that
overlap, the sound of a chair, the
rustling of fabric, a glowing screen.
Everything remains present at the same time.
One sensation does not become secondary
simply because another appears.
They retain their intensity simultaneously.
The body takes it all in.
When this intensity becomes too strong,
I seek less noise, softer light,
the air from an open window, a space
where sensations cease to overlap.
In everyday life, I sometimes have to
tone down what is happening.
In drawing, I can
experience the opposite.
A colour appears.
I could tone down the colour surrounding it to
give it more space.
I do not do that.
I want each one to retain its intensity.
One shape encounters another.
I do not seek to determine which should dominate nor
which should recede.
I seek how they can be
fully present together.
I bring two colours closer together.
One immediately transforms the other.
I increase their intensity.
I see how far I can go without
one becoming the background to the other.
One shape takes up more space.
I do not diminish the one that accompanies it.
I maintain both.
Within my body, several presences
can coexist without forming a hierarchy.
In my drawing, I revisit this simultaneity
and shift its conditions.
I can bring them closer together, amplify them,
start afresh.
I can observe what happens when I
refuse to understand one intensity through the
diminution of another.
The drawing does not correct this experience.
It pushes it further.
Do not tone anything down.
Do not choose one main presence and
relegate the others to its periphery.
Take every colour, every shape, in
all its intensity.
Explore how far each one can go without
asking the others to give way.
None is diminished.
Each remains whole.
