Photographic memory reveals buried realities, often moments of happiness. For Simon Pinchaud, this art has the function of retaining the present to carry it into an evanescent future. A new father, he opens the coming years to this fear of a disappearance that he knows is inevitable. From old photographs that he digs up, the testimonies of the father, of an uncle, of these infallible witnesses of the ephemeral, come back to him. “I am on the edge of a vast landfill,” he confides, distraught. Poetic stories then unfold, as is the case in many current collections, and of the most beautiful intensity. His grandfather “perfected the art of erasure.” His father photographed the author with his sister and managed to offer a “breathtaking view of [s]a life line. » More dramatically, the poet affirms that: “coming into the world / is dressing a dead person”. However, despite everything, a breath still inhabits hope, the child is necessarily the cause, it must be, because we are “on the verge of extinction / and yet / at the crossroads of the body / the burning certainty / of that which resists.”
To watch on video