J'ai demandé à la Lune

I asked the moon. Indochine sang it. The phrase carries within it all the questions one no longer knows to whom to address.

A circle of gold, almost full, inscribed in the deep matter. It is the moon of confidences, the one one talks to at night when the world sleeps.

Around it, the matter is dense, laden with silences, run through with subtle glints. The night is not empty. It listens.

A work for those who know how to speak to the moon. And to hear what it answers back.

Matter, structural plaster, acrylic, gold leaf. Wabi-sabi. To paint the question. To sculpt the moon.