In the heart of Brussels, at the Josefa House, a "cultural space" is open to the elements that constitute and shape us: our migrations. A "bubble" whose elements awaken in each of us an imagination space and offer us an invitation to reveal our amazement…

To understand the fluid experience of drifting, which leads to daydreaming. Drifting and daydreaming float together, created by the image. The image, before words, our first childhood tool to qualify our relationship with the world which then becomes almost fusional; an image-tool to weave our links with the mystery of things, the mystery of the world.

Unlike dreaming, which, by definition, is a state of self-dispossession, daydreaming keeps the subject and the object in fusion: the distinction disappears. The image is linguistic, words make you dream, the words themselves "dream". This is reminiscent of those unsavoury individuals who advocate an inclusive spelling by removing the circumflex accent on the word "île" in French ("island"): should we really remove the image of the palm tree from this pretty word?

An invitation to the visitor, the traveller…

Therefore, space is based on an objective, utilitarian, preformatted, quantified, measured material produced by a psycho-geographic space that are our cities, our countries. This material is plastic – shared by most of our humanity in our frantic production system – whose waste floats in large numbers on the surface of our oceans and forms new continents, devitalized floating islands. Matter becomes surface. How can we not also have a look at the "exiles" of infertile lands who set their sights on coasts that are supposed to open the doors of "rich lands", when their uncertain drift leads them to land there? In respect of each other, doesn't Josefa approach our migrations as sources of/and societal plasticities?

Plastic that evokes stained glass in colourful or discreet shades, structured or left free, adrift, each element of which comes to overlap the other to form an elementary intensity, a tone, a transparent depth like the water of the oceans. It is, in a way, the paradox of a material ecstasy as a radiographic leitmotif of what we have to face today, all of us migrants, each in our own way.

From beginning to end, the composition sounds like a seismograph of the soul, but can also be seen as the diagram of sound frequencies... the "noise of astonishment" in short, specific to the aspirations of the Josefa space…

Jean-François