A wide Egyptian eye staring at you. A giant hand waving at a flower. A suitcase and a man going to meet children playing with bi-color balloons. Or maybe they are just angels collecting yin and yangs. Curves, curves, no right angles. No blades, no discontinuity. Dreamy sensuality unaware of sexuality, a blissful world that undulates in the Eden of childhood. But the snakes are innocent - Good and Evil are not born yet. The Tourlicoulis are the inhabitants of this world. Dante imagined nine circles in his Inferno.
The Tourlicoulis’s paradise counts infinitely many.
Tourlicoulis visiting the underworld. Bubbles of air inviting themselves into the deep blue ocean.
A new set up, denser, but with the same spirit. They could be angels on vacation - making themselves comfortable, designing airy shapes in the water. And if normal rainbows are the result of light striking some air full of rain, we can see here some reversed rainbows - made up by air filling the sea.
The Tourlicoulis have grown and morphed, no longer content to hide. Hideous and hilarious,
slim and rotund, set in their occupation, their enchanted and bold assertion of identity, in bright colors scream that life is colorful, anything but banal or ‘black and white’.
Strings of Life
Forget about the meaning. Heads are round shapes. Very much like every other unit of life, ovoid by essence. Tulips are big empty heads. And your feet are just warm pebbles keeping you on the ground. Focus on the neck, on the ankle. See the shiver of the connection and realize we are all puppets.
For, in the end, won’t our heads be more than black boxes to one another? Look at the strings all around, the electric wires that run like thunder through our veins, that flow in the nearby tree or the ones that weakly moan in the marble on the ground. The only certainty of existence: The strings of life.
What if we focused on some Tourlicoulis scenes, extract them from their environment?
What if we tried to essentialize them, and create another macrocosm out of each tiny microcosm?
This is the old metaphor of Pascal – changing scale we find some other universe, as rich and complex as our own, and any insect is comparable to a solar system. The Coulistrations are such attempts. Contraction of “couler” meaning “flow” in French, and illustration. Illustrating the flow – zooming on
a specific scene of the Tourlicoulis world or on a specific string ensemble, in such a way that zooming,
again and again, remains possible…