Anne-Marie Jugnet’s most recent exhibition consisted of simple works that seemed to take over the space of the gallery though they were physically unimposing. It was not only that here she used color, where normally she works in black and white, but that in the background blinked a small red neon sign that spelled inouï (“unheard of”). While this last piece was of modest size and, above all silent, Jugnet plays on the fact that this word contains another word that refers to sound: l’ouie (hearing). What is unheard of is something extraordinary that invades and spreads out—something that has

Anne-Marie Jugnet’s most recent exhibition consisted of simple works that seemed to take over the space of the gallery though they were physically unimposing. It was not only that here she used color, where normally she works in black and white, but that in the background blinked a small red neon sign that spelled inouï (“unheard of”). While this last piece was of modest size and, above all silent, Jugnet plays on the fact that this word contains another word that refers to sound: l’ouie (hearing). What is unheard of is something extraordinary that invades and spreads out—something that has

Anne-Marie Jugnet’s most recent exhibition consisted of simple works that seemed to take over the space of the gallery though they were physically unimposing. It was not only that here she used color, where normally she works in black and white, but that in the background blinked a small red neon sign that spelled inouï (“unheard of”). While this last piece was of modest size and, above all silent, Jugnet plays on the fact that this word contains another word that refers to sound: l’ouie (hearing). What is unheard of is something extraordinary that invades and spreads out—something that has

Yann Kersalé’s first “Expédition lumière” (Light expedition) goes back to 1984, when the French artist set up two giant projectors in a metal-working factory on the Normandy coast in order to translate the rhythm of the smelting furnace into beams of light. In the intervening ten years, Kersalé has developed some seventy projects for lighting up the night, and more than a third of them have actually been carried out, either in the form of self-initiated “Light Expeditions” or, more often, as public commissions.

This exhibition, designed by the artist himself for the spacious quarters of the French

Yann Kersalé’s first “Expédition lumière” (Light expedition) goes back to 1984, when the French artist set up two giant projectors in a metal-working factory on the Normandy coast in order to translate the rhythm of the smelting furnace into beams of light. In the intervening ten years, Kersalé has developed some seventy projects for lighting up the night, and more than a third of them have actually been carried out, either in the form of self-initiated “Light Expeditions” or, more often, as public commissions.

This exhibition, designed by the artist himself for the spacious quarters of the French

Yann Kersalé’s first “Expédition lumière” (Light expedition) goes back to 1984, when the French artist set up two giant projectors in a metal-working factory on the Normandy coast in order to translate the rhythm of the smelting furnace into beams of light. In the intervening ten years, Kersalé has developed some seventy projects for lighting up the night, and more than a third of them have actually been carried out, either in the form of self-initiated “Light Expeditions” or, more often, as public commissions.

This exhibition, designed by the artist himself for the spacious quarters of the French

Anne-Marie Jugnet’s most recent exhibition consisted of simple works that seemed to take over the space of the gallery though they were physically unimposing. It was not only that here she used color, where normally she works in black and white, but that in the background blinked a small red neon sign that spelled inouï (“unheard of”). While this last piece was of modest size and, above all silent, Jugnet plays on the fact that this word contains another word that refers to sound: l’ouie (hearing). What is unheard of is something extraordinary that invades and spreads out—something that has

Yann Kersalé’s first “Expédition lumière” (Light expedition) goes back to 1984, when the French artist set up two giant projectors in a metal-working factory on the Normandy coast in order to translate the rhythm of the smelting furnace into beams of light. In the intervening ten years, Kersalé has developed some seventy projects for lighting up the night, and more than a third of them have actually been carried out, either in the form of self-initiated “Light Expeditions” or, more often, as public commissions.

This exhibition, designed by the artist himself for the spacious quarters of the French