One day I walked down Joseph Claes street and I discovered that the house I painted on earlier that year had been torn down. I made my way through the fences and walked up the piles of rocks. I felt much more moved than I expected. I knew it would happen. I was waiting for that moment. The project was not going to work. In a way, it was not supposed to. To be successful, it had to be a failure.
But still, I couldn't help it but I felt very nostalgic while walking on the ghostly demolition site. I missed the house, its facade, its shutters and its mysterious rooms from which I had glimpses while painting on it. I compulsively gathered as much stones as I could.
Un jour, je suis passée par la rue Joseph Claes et j’ai découvert que la maison sur laquelle j’avais peint quelques mois auparavant, avait été détruite. Je savais que cela allait arriver. En un sens, j’attendais ce moment. Je me suis glissée entre les barrières et je me suis promenée sur les amas de terre et de pierres.
Ma campagne n’allait pas fonctionner. En fait, elle n’était pas censée fonctionner. Pour réussir, elle devait échouer. J’ai compulsivement ramassé le plus de pierres possible.
Close-up of 6/22 ink prints of stones collected from destroyed houses in Brussels from October 2012 to March 2013, 70x55cm, 2013