When I wake I’m still in a dream
In most men's dreams I suppose you will find dolls running through fields late at night after men like in those films from the 70’s. I suppose this is the case for me too, but the dolls tend to be ghosts from my past, who take many shapes and befriend the creatures that haunt the rusty landscapes of my dioramas.
Generally speaking I would say that wherever the man built and destroyed, left and came back you will find a part of me and a fertile ground for my imagination.
But then throughout this rusty mess some big light burst came in and terrorised my pet ghosts: my wife and I got a baby!!
So here came the tiny thing and there went our sleep as fast as light. For as far back as I remember I always had some trouble to make a difference between dream and reality, it really got worse since that moment. So almost daily at sunset this spring and summer I put the laundry on the wire between the two old rusty poles that separates our small garden and the one of the neighbours listening to calm music at loud volume in my headphones –with the sun in my eye too- and one day both my worlds collided and I saw myself putting the laundry on the gun cradle of a boat, with both rusty poles being replaced one way by a funnel and the other one by a rusty boat mast.
And I felt like I had no choice than doing a diorama out of this. (pic 1)