Kyiv
About
Looking at pictures of Ukrainian refugees breaks my heart. Very egostically I guess it's because they look and feel like my neighbours. The women wear the same puffy jackets and die their hair the same way they do at Chalon sur SaƓne or Lons le Saunier. They care for their pets the same way we are doing here. Among the vast quantities of media that comes from this part of the world stands one picture that is considered as a symbol for Ukrainian resistance. It shows the wall of a destroyed building with only a big grandma wooden shelf holding in the air with all the pots and plates still in place and unbroken. So I set up to recreate that scene completely but of course I can't just copy can I? I wasn't too happy with the rather dreary brown colours of the wall and the wallpaper reminded me terrible things I saw in the 70s so I used my own colours. And then I thought about the my kid's mum. About how she likes her place to be neat, her scathing comments when I don't put a pot at the right place. So I imagine her having to live through such a storm. Knowing her, and since she's a rather daring and sportive woman, she would be taking risks to salvage what she could from her still intact cupboards, piling again her intact cups, hoping to transfer them in a better home later.