24 March 2014
The femmes Matadors of Marc MARIE-JOSEPH
With Marc Marie-Joseph’s femmes Matadors we are back into Saint-Pierre. In the 19th century. Near the sea. Under the curved blue line of the horizons disrupted by the thick rum steam that rises from the distilleries and seeps into bodies.
In that Saint-Pierre, whose geography, herein, is the floating geography of dream and fantasy, each seamstress has her matador. For which, cardboard after cardboard, she draws the pink or dark lace of costumes where desire, as a reversal of power games, is staged.
With Marc Marie-Joseph’s femmes Matadors we are back into Saint-Pierre. In the 19th century. Near the sea. Under the curved blue line of the horizons disrupted by the thick rum steam that rises from the distilleries and seeps into bodies.
In that Saint-Pierre, whose geography, herein, is the floating geography of dream and fantasy, each seamstress has her matador. For which, cardboard after cardboard, she draws the pink or dark lace of costumes where desire, as a reversal of power games, is staged.
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