Amours visqueux reconstitue de manière poètique un repas de famille. Références personnelles composant mes souvenirs, j’invite à contempler cette scène, celle de l’amour mou. L’installation est sonore, inspirée d’un repas. Elle est également visuelle, par un mapping vidéo qui anime des escargots qui essaient de s’échapper des assiettes. Pour ne pas se faire manger. L’attente est longue. La nourriture s’agite. Les minutes passent. Et il ne subsiste que l’odeur du beurre persillé.

Limonade Paper spécialisé dans le décor mural et le papier peint puise son inspiration dans l’univers graphique et singulier de la créatrice Aurélie Damon.

Julie Machin est une plasticienne et artiste multimédia qui explore avec dérision les frontières du réel / virtuel / fictionnel à travers des formes organiques.

A l’occasion de la Nuit des Arts de Roubaix, Limonade Paper réunit les deux artistes autour de l’exposition Gasteroïde.

Expérimentant divers matériaux tels que l’argile, le bioplastique et le dessin, Aurélie et Julie ont imaginé un univers fantasmagorique dans lequel se déploient d’étranges créatures aux allures protéiformes, translucides, laiteuses et colorées.

The installation is the result of defragmentation of the skin. The face becomes an image, a mock portrait, an anonymous figure, some pieces of which have disappeared. And the remaining texture takes the form of a landscape on which the gaze wanders. A way to rediscover its bark, to map its face, to explore the hollows and mountains that compose it, to walk on the paths of the complexion.

The mask refers to that other me, the one that is carefully applied to the skin in the morning, before leaving home. To hide in order to become that other, to want to be other, to surrender by leaving your skin, flesh and body, then wrap yourself in a large bandage. We become an onion, we put on layers, we hide the inside, so that we are no longer raw and keep away from each other. The mask
quarantines our selves, and becomes a semblance of us, the day before we meet again at night.
It becomes a body to be removed. This performance puts us face to face with the porosity of our skin.
This body that moves, like a snake, from which we reveal a new body, this new face that rubs shoulders with the visceral.

Trace-IT is both the trace of our route and the trace in the city (trace city). It is the highlight of our passages, from presence passing to the absence of our steps. When we walk, we leave an invisible trace of our passages. We wander like ghosts, in our streets, in the city, we cross paths but we remain anonymous… Why wouldn’t these crossing points meet our invisible passages? Trace-it takes over these passages, these paths that we no longer see, these unconsciously traced roads. We make visible what we no longer reflect. Right, then, left, then right, the steps go on toughtlessly; we cross the streets without thinking them, without thinking about the eroding ground beneath our feet. The posture of walking, in performance, is diverted when we make it bent, holding a coal at arm’s length, with which we trace and make visible the grueling, exhausting walk of everyday life, of these streets that pass by, of our urban landscapes. “They weave places. In this connection, pedestrian motricities form one of these “tangible systems whose existence effectively make the city”, but which “have no physical receptacles”. They are not localized: they are the ones that spatialize.» 1 Walking in the city would be like a code of subjective exploration that one could decode. “In this permanent investment and appropriation of places, each citizen would then draw routes which would recompose the face of the city …]” 2