Hair : Pollen Maggie Brunette
There is a scenography of waiting: I organize the handpiece, cut a piece of time that will interpret the loss of the loved object and provoke all the effects of a small mourning. All this takes place, therefore, as in a play. […] Being that I look is not real. As the womb to the infant, “I continually create and recreate the beginning of my capacity to love, starting with the need I have of him” (Winnicott): the other is where I’m waiting, there where I’ve already created. And, if he does not come, I hallucinogenic: the wait is a delusion.