The Skin-to-Skin concept is the fruit of the artistic and human resonance between Pierre Jalby and his childhood friend, Anil-Franck Desai.
Even more so with the "Wall" series in which each of Pierre's artworks was created in perfect harmony with Anil's texts. Not as an illustration of the text by the artwork nor a narration of the artwork by the text, but rather a mutual journey, where space and time are bound together as one. A joint spiritual, cosmic and emotional journey they each narrate to one another, one through words, the other through matter; both feeding, amplifying, intensifying and sublimating each other's narration and journey within themselves.
As a spectator of the fruit of this journey, of this resonance, with Anil's texts enlightening our interpretation of the artwork and Pierre's artwork leading us into Anil's words, our own journey is all the more intense.
This union carries on until Anil's words are submerged, combining with Pierre's "illuminated paper"; the artwork "20 01 17 0044" (here below) is a perfect illustration of this magic. Again, below, both artists face one another during a mutual journey : Pierre's artwork mirroring Anil's text in "Terres Brulées" (ou "Scorched Lands")
We wish you a pleasant journey !
I saw the men, I knew their cities, their citadels and their rubbish bins. I saw concrete pillars deface the earth, steel machines shred its flesh and suck its blood. I saw the genius serve vice and cruelty, ugliness and mediocrity like a bottomless abyss.
I tasted the destruction, the terror and the stench. I rubbed shoulders with the obscurantism, the superstition and the inquisition. I saw the pyres rise and men exterminate all those who dared dream and hope.
I saw decapitated heads, limbs torn off, torn bodies exhibited to the four winds. I saw the pack chase its condemned man with hatred to the gallows. I saw the human beast wallow in blood and ashes and enjoy its crime ad nauseam.
I embraced the dreamer and his dream, as one blessed the light arising from nothingness, the rose victorious over ruins, mud and time. I spat, threw up, and cursed myself not having known how to protect, save and avenge.
But these shameful days will be over, when comes that day when the martyrs of life gather their dreams and join the maquis. They’ll find shelter beyond the hills, in the hollow of the white mountains, on the great sea of ice.
Nature will be their strength and their element, rain and wind will be their shield. They’ll prove themselves in the cold, before the great trial of fire, from which they’ll forge their weapons and shape their ideas.
Then, they’ll put on the armour, ride in storm and fall upon the monster and his beast, for the reconquest of the world and the tribute to the earth. And if tomorrow you are this king, living among the living, between heaven and earth, rocked by the sea, know to whom you owe your life.
And if tomorrow you are this human debris, miserable tyrant of a scorched land, cursed be those who gave you the throne, shame on us and woe upon you.
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Article published by LJ Art Traffik