SIMONE
BackThe Mistral Noir - Daniel Herskedal
This music haunted me. The repetitive melody. That wind had slipped into my thoughts. A bit like her. Her glances above all. Those glances that sometimes drifted away when she sank back into her memories, her head slightly turned out of modesty, that pause to put the unspeakable into words. Everything gradually blended together. Those pains that kept returning in her life. Like that wind. Always coming back, sweeping everything away, nothing able to resist it. And then doubt. That wind that nothing can stop, that strong wind that keeps moving forward despite obstacles. Again and again. Such an inspiring force. Before putting it into color, I imagined that warm, dry Mistral. The one from the South. In the end, perhaps it was the one from the green country. It was oceanic. My geography was getting lost. I waited a long time before painting this canvas. Too many events. Geopolitics was losing its bearings. I painted it on July 6th. The day before. I still don’t know what that wind is. Perhaps the future will tell us. But I didn’t know it could cry. Original text in French, translated by AI