In Anne-Laure’s "house"
"House". "Houses" of others.
It ‘s an old obsession.
A physic space, concrete. With walls and a roof.
"Please, draw me a house…" (in « Le petit prince » from Saint Exupéry) : We get a cube, a unified cube.
That which we put inside is quite singular.
"House" is a space of life.
Both ordinary and strange.
A close space too.
Often a space about the invisible.
A space with a lot of stories, memories, whose door you need to push.
The first thing I do when I’m invited in is to visit.
I ‘ve been everywhere in the "house".
I appropriate spaces.
Crossing rooms, I become immersed in their ways of living.
I like to discover the "house" of others. The way they occupy space, the way they appropriate place.
I photograph the interior of their houses when they invite me in.
It’s like a window into people’s routines.
The mystery of the ordinary.
Sometimes, I must stay outside.
Then, I photograph windows, doors, openings…
The banality of mystery.
"House" is also my name.
A name that I need to fill.
Filling my father’s absence.