Marie Frering

“If a lion could speak, we wouldn't be able to understand it”, said wittgenstein. we look at animals with the same curiosity, as if we'd lost each other's memory. a thin veil of incomprehension separates us and casts us into a deep melancholy. there they are, with their hair, feathers and scales, survivors from a fabulous world, mythical heroes of edifying stories and phantasmagorical material of our dreams. over the past two centuries, we have begun to study, classify and naturalize them, at the same time as their disappearance has begun. in museums, their remains have accumulated, the tangible form of our view of them and its history. what could be more natural? museums are the place for this. we observe the passing of time, that which precedes us and that which is yet to come.

No synopsis available yet.

Achour is thirty. Night and day, he walks. Rebellious soul, he crisscrosses Alger and its neighborhoods, stays at friends' houses and often leaves the city to meet the nearby montain in Kabylia, his alter-ego. In this environment his resistance continues, mobile and ascending. Algerian hardcore-punk musician, Achour once screamed his anger against the country's regime and sang "Anarchytecture". But the movement died down, friends went their separate ways. His Facebook wall became his notebook, his window open to the world. It represents a scream aimed towards the echo of the mountains, between virtual wall, infinite facades of large complexes and the strata of mineral cliffs. A scream comes back at us.

No synopsis available yet.

“If a lion could speak, we wouldn't be able to understand it”, said wittgenstein. we look at animals with the same curiosity, as if we'd lost each other's memory. a thin veil of incomprehension separates us and casts us into a deep melancholy. there they are, with their hair, feathers and scales, survivors from a fabulous world, mythical heroes of edifying stories and phantasmagorical material of our dreams. over the past two centuries, we have begun to study, classify and naturalize them, at the same time as their disappearance has begun. in museums, their remains have accumulated, the tangible form of our view of them and its history. what could be more natural? museums are the place for this. we observe the passing of time, that which precedes us and that which is yet to come.

No synopsis available yet.

Achour is thirty. Night and day, he walks. Rebellious soul, he crisscrosses Alger and its neighborhoods, stays at friends' houses and often leaves the city to meet the nearby montain in Kabylia, his alter-ego. In this environment his resistance continues, mobile and ascending. Algerian hardcore-punk musician, Achour once screamed his anger against the country's regime and sang "Anarchytecture". But the movement died down, friends went their separate ways. His Facebook wall became his notebook, his window open to the world. It represents a scream aimed towards the echo of the mountains, between virtual wall, infinite facades of large complexes and the strata of mineral cliffs. A scream comes back at us.

No synopsis available yet.