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WASTELAND
DAILY TRAVEL BOOK NUMBER T
MY SOUL WRAPPED IN A VINTAGE FRAME
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DEETEEBEE FROM THE WOODS OF MY SOUL
INSTANT UNEDITED VIEWS SHOT IN FRANCE BETWEEN 2012 AND 2014
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It’s a piano first. It’s a piano dancing. Sweet memories, buried. A guy from Brooklin coming from France. Brighter days washed away. The innocence of youth, a remembrance of joy and the meaning of fate. Do you think truth has a color ? Would it look like sunny days ? Sand and fire, the end and someone who’s saved. Your eyes.
It’s not from Golden Age but from Iron. Where things come from does talk about them don’t you think ?Wasteland is T.S. Eliot but Wasteland comes here from that kid in the woods, who’s not singing his native language. Wasteland is full of shadows and questions, written words and scratches and something is alive in these lost times. I guess some souls are hard to murder. There’s the unknown in every second and yet I can recognize beds and walls, Sara’s house and the fourth, a typewriter, stars on the ceiling. A carousel on the bridge, coffee, toys, a garden that used to be mine when I was living in this part of town. I guess there’s the third, too, and even the eighth, Paris is so small I can’t take a cab without running into a life of yesterday. I was about thirty when it started to taste like this. The tray from my mom's house in the South and Saint-Tropez will never be something else but childhood. Do you think it’s a woman’s face that actually represents this everyday company we take in that so-called city of lights ? I never thought about it before that perspective given by a door. Logos should end behind bars sometimes. Tiger is the name of a cocktail, Oliver’s phone was broken, there’s Elle in Deauville and some sweet food that in french we call Mystery. Of course I wrapped it in some authentic hot pure home-made chocolate and then come words, on my pictures, and prints. Can you believe some people truly think we can talk about what we do ?
Wasteland is a stolen title. It’s not mine.
DRAUGHTY TRAVELING BONES
WASTELAND IS A SONG BY WOODKID AND A POEM BY T.S. ELIOT
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SOCIÉTÉ
The Daily Travel Books are sixteen volumes made of instant unedited shots. They are witnesses of a universe belonging to a moment in time where the best camera is the only one you carry with you.
Although they are not pretending to be anything else than something seen, a few shots by them have been shown in Paris and Barcelona’s collective and solo shows.
Often squared as if they were straight, the Deeteebees were fuzzy soft black stars until things exploded. Walking away in California, they cheated on squares and monochromes for a colorful Good Day spreading in Elle A. Flirting with documentary when they are other bricks in the wall from Paris, they are most of the time intimate love songs. Like For Marlon in green and blues, or Wasteland inspired by a kid from the woods.
Instant love for the second they're living in, of course they dress in Polaroids sometimes. Using filters as a classical fiction technique, they are naked as unedited raws. Taken for themselves without any desire to be shown, they are very shy and deliver many sides of what time can be.
They obviously wouldn’t be themselves without Pink Floyd, Antony and the Jo, The Dresden Dolls, Tom Waits, TS Eliot and Woodkid, Grant Lee Buffalo and Keaton Henson or Unkle and Tash Sultana. They just can’t stop the music, cause they are nothing else but a soundtrack. Always on the move.
Be kind with them, they are sensitive.
SCRAPPED ON THE MOON
DRAFTED TUNED BLASTS
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