Luce Pelletier

QUEUE LEU LEU
01.13–02.08.1994

A scaffold of scrap metal intended
for the dream of flourishing poetry.
A house of cards… Indifferent vegetation invades the objects abandoned
by man; it gnaws at them… The wear and tear of time.
With a stealthy and discreet force,
it gives shape to lifeless places. It inhabits them. Like a parade, these reanimated cars trace a path.
They recall those rocks in the forest that are skillfully covered with moss on the
north-facing slopes… that implicit direction. Playing in the sandbox, building roads,
the child amuses himself by simulating reality.
They imitate sounds and shapes,
immersed in the meanings that objects evoke. Memories of playing in the sand,
of cars climbing the mountains of our imagination… The poetry of the miniature allows us to master, without scruples,
what still eludes us.
A whisper.
A story comes to life, ready for all the fantasies of a dream…

“The image refuses to be measured. No matter how much it speaks of space, it changes in size. The slightest value expands it, elevates it, multiplies it. And the dreamer becomes the being of his image. He absorbs all the space of his image. Or else he confines himself to the miniature of his images.”

-Gaston Bachelard