Words do not come out, writing is painful, my speech is confused.
My images reference the past and are mended in the present, never without leaving a mark.
Every woman carries with her memories of a little girl who seeks to grow up while in the midst of uncertain references.
The mirror became my only reference.
To be alone facing my goal drives me to be Emmanuelle.
Like a painter, my body is my gouache, everything that surrounds and touches me is my color palette.
My body is not mine, I use it to travel through time.
The camera takes human form. It is male. At first, it was to him that I addressed myself. A tripod and an eye. A way to remain standing on my own two feet with what I had to say to him, to show to him.
The man questions himself, the woman identifies herself.
I use the autobiography as a way to address the Woman. A sensitive, complex, and profound being who has the illusion, the distorted sensation, to have liberated her femininity in a world where appearance is paramount.
It is the passage into the unknown of uncertain references that interests me…