Joris Lacoste

Les Soirées Nomades de la Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain — Hôpital La Grave

Joris Lacoste, Parlement

© Olivier Ouadah

With Emmanuelle Lafon
Artistic collaboration : Grégory Castéra and Frédéric Danos

Durée : 1h


What does the festival’s subtitle “Here where I am doesn’t exist” do for you?
Where I am doesn’t exist all on its own. It has to be made. It has to be invented. It has to be seen. It has to be lived in. A spider isn’t an encyclopaedia. A picture book isn’t a flashlight. Some frequencies are lethal. Dancing is forbidden in lawcourt corridors. Where I am doesn’t altogether exist—here isn’t altogether here. Where I am doesn’t pre-exist. It has to be made. It has to be remade. Today, Sunday 30 May 2009, we’re rehearsing Parlement in a kind of bunker with a hidden door code under the ring road, on Rue de la Clôture, in Paris. Outside: the midday sun, the road dug up, guards clad in orange, an old circus big top, wild grass everywhere and the discoloured hair of whores in their truck parked by the pavement, some sitting where the driver sits like truck drivers, others flopped down on a mattress that you can glimpse through the open side door, or sitting on folding stools in the shade of the bridge. A car radio is playing very quietly, with a kind of Arab pop. People greet each other, and smile. Where I am doesn’t exist yet—there’s no here here, yet. We’re working on it.


Saturday 26 September, 3pm, in the Entretemps (Meantime) module by Alain Bublex, Musée les
Meeting with Antonia Baehr and Joris Lacoste.
Reservation : 05 34 62 77 70