Mathilde du Sordet

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Arearene, 2012

tripod, paper, marble powder, slide frames, plaster, metal, notebook, 130cm x 124cm x 300cm


'A star-shaped piece of brass sits upon a small rectangular sheet of white paper. It was my starting point. We can only imagine the circle it could have formed, connecting the ends of the points. It's an endless object. Each element of the sculpture has its own movement. The floor is thought as an arena where the sculpture can move and the circulation around it was a part of its dynamic.

If the points are connected a circle is formed

It sits upon a small rectangular sheet of white paper. A piece of brass. Not very big. Star-shaped. Open. It’s not yet finished. Waiting. You close and open one eye. That is my starting point. I like imagining the circle it could have formed. If one connects the ends of the points. Endlessly. Around and alongside. Tripod. Corrugated iron. Marble powder. Rolled up paper sheet. Plaster. Metal. Open notebook. Polystyrene. Emptied slides. I hope you will remember. You watch the blank spaces dance.

She said she used to tell herself stories. She told me anecdotes. She told me we didn’t have to know them. She told me that each element has a story, that it’s like writing. She told me she had already heard about haiku. She told me she liked the sound of the words «marble powder.» She told me it is a ritual, an incantatory practice, that there is magic in it. She talked about «Le Danseur des solitudes» by Didi-Hubermann. She told me she likes writing. She explained that she used to write a lot, taking note of everything everywhere she went, but not as often anymore. She talked about gestures. She told me each element has its own movement. She gave me her point of view. She talked while gently moving around. She said ‘atemporal,’ ‘energy’, ‘torsion’, ‘arena’ and ‘plaster board’. She talked about the dark grey floor of the studio. She talked about Michelangelo. She also talked about Marcel Duchamp. She told me the elements are open. She said the word ‘clinical’. She told me the notebook has no margin, that the horizontal lines are endless. She told me about off-screen.

You watch the blank spaces dance. Details, words, images you no longer think of appear little by little. You had forgotten about these inconsequential moments to which you can no longer assign a date. At the time they seemed trivial to you, but in this particular moment, you find them important. You understand them better when you connect them to one another. They move about, spread over, turn around, open partway, close up, scatter, gather, open up, out. They circle around. You close and open one eye. Space. Vertigo. Marble powder. Suspension. A circle. Endless.'

text by Marie Bechetoille

Artworks by Mathilde du Sordet

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