Listen to the Voices of Silence

By Jean-Paul Monery, curator in chief of the patrimony of the Museum L’Annonciade, Saint Tropez, France

She wished that I write. What a wager it is for me, who knows how much words are minimal when speaking of arts, how much it would always be necessary to apply the wish of Matisse “to cut our tongue”. But for a friend, could I derogate myself ?

It is necessary to say that it was long the road of Marie-Noelle to find her way in the art of sculpture, much the ideas and the action of doing it inked to education have eclipsed the real desire. There were at first law studies to reach a doctorate, then for many years of shed id management and administrative work to finally free herself of this gangue to open to herself, to make, to the work, make, as we said in former days. A Work where we see appearing, as the word indicates it, the Work.

A work without noise, a discreet presence. Marie-Noelle does not reveal much. Such modesty! Rather a mistrust towards words which confine and restrict in silence. And it is what suits when observing her works: the silence of the depths of Time.

Among the first works, there are those where the artist uses as material, bones of cetaceans. Big fragments of bones raised here as trophies, totems, or some smaller laid on the ground as vast flat stones. While today we run towards the cybernetic and the virtual, I like to imagine Marie-Noelle crossing lands still virgin, as those of Patagonia, to collect these ancient bones and give them back life, color and sense. Returning to its beginning to find a new universality, and it is what the plastic work of the artist aims to.

The deliberated choice of this material defines an attitude of the sculptor much closer then the demiurge in front of the material. The spiritual country is hardly haunted by a few solitary individuals, but they are still there, the «Voices of Silence», kept, presrved by the will of a man who wrote: «In the evening when Rembrandt still draws, all the illustrious shadows, and those of the draftsmen of caves, watch and follow the hesitating hand which prepares their new survival or their new sleep.»