Sound installation for a desk, a chair, four plants, a pine, a couple of moving objects and thundering words.

It’s a bedroom that tells, testifies and extrapolates. It’s a bedroom that does not look like a bedroom but rather like an administrative space. The aseptic office of a weird director. In this room, a desk.

On the desk, a computer, a dancing figurine, a phone, a bell and a printer. Around them, four plants delimit the space of the installation. Hidden in the plants: foliage, lamps and speakers. In the back, a large pine plays music and spits out snow. All of them are set in motion and react to voices from the speakers.

It’s a bedroom which echoes insignificant or essential facts, combines, chops them up and assembles them. It’s a bedroom but it could just as well be any other place.
One of those places too busy to occupy the space of our human lives.

A place to scrutinize words and examine the difficulty of hearing oneself in the surrounding brouhaha. A place that constantly changes size. By turns a place for intimacy, a cell, an impersonal open space and a landscape open to the horizon: never twice the same. A place inhabited by multiple voices which add up or withdraw, cancel or amplify themselves. Voices, low or high pitched, discreet, laughing, shouting, piercing voices which from time to time tune in to sing. A choir of discordant and conflicting voices.