So we cultivate an archaic garden where primitive joins forces with antique.
Where archaeologists decipher hieroglyphics that speak of Gods, of man and plants unknown.
Forbidden fruits and flowers bear forgotten names: Kumquat, oponce, papyrus, tuberose, rosewood.
Nestled in shadowy niches, worn mosaics hide behind twisted and dried branches of ivy.
Collapsed columns and arches form a mound of worn stones, hiding fossils.

Ebbing and flowing with the tide, we swim
“under-current”.
Dive into abysses, explore the ocean depths.
We discover marine flora and fauna, submerged cities, buried amphora and pots.
A mysterious world, an aquatic and amniotic
bubble.
A stormy summer's day, bright with magnetic lightening, the horizon plunging into the ocean.

Sham
Wild nature plays all its cards, calling on Rousseau to lure us into a game of paradise lost with all its misleading tricks. Pretty green vines encircle us, exuberant flowers are giant to better devour us. The beaks of multicoloured macaws pinch the cheeks of lost Janes.

A static place, metaphor of elsewhere. An undefined place between Cyrene and Cartagena, between Libya and Syria.
Desert of sand, desert of sea, wreckers, pirates, warriors from another era. Alternation of ambiguous shade and dulled light. They illuminate, or dissimulate, the decks of ships run ashore, rusty anchors, ragged sails, driftwood, soft-shell crabs and tortoise shells.

Folies in Versailles, rave party in Schönbrunn, Murder in an English garden. Jacques Tati on vacation in a golden carriage. Pretty DIY by Lewis Carroll, Fragonard gate-crashes the camp site. Hansel and Gretel sample molecular cuisine. Technical research and reasoned ecology show their impertinent sides. A festival of glamorous and fun materials.
The dawn of artificial preciousness