HOMAGES

In this section, I would like to pay homage to the authors, artists, teachers, people known and unknown who tuned my thoughts, formed my taste and led me, by imitation, on the path of writing. Their works run in me, in my blood, my imagination, my unconscious. They were the parents who brought me into the world of writing. No thought arises ex nihilo. Someone else’s idea generates ours. Writing doesn’t come by grace. The works of the authors we admire originate ours. Vocation and talent come later. But first occurs an extraordinary, sometimes overwhelming encounter between a text and a being.

DJUNA BARNES

The first homage goes to Djuna Barnes. On the homepage and the background of this site, I handwrote the first paragraphs of Nightwood, in English first, then in the French translation by Pierre Leyris. (Read more...)

THE POSTMAN CHEVAL

How did Ferdinand Cheval, the postman from Hauterives, come into my life ? Was it the photo of André Breton at the Ideal Palace which caught my attention, Breton dressed in a black leather coat, seated on the steps of the staircase leading to the upper terrace of the building ? I cannot remember. Still, one day, the handiwork of the postman struck my imagination at comet speed. (Read more...)

JEAN-SEBASTIEN BACH

I learned the piano. It was my mother's dream. A young lady had to learn the piano. She would play for distinguished guests in an elegant evening. The scene would take place in a large house with antique furniture, marble floors, paintings, large French windows overlooking a flower garden. The young lady would play Brahms on a grand piano. That was the dream. (Read more...)

PATRICK WHITE

On the table is unfolded a large map of Australia. I still lived in Bordeaux. Is it in 1982 ? Later ? I have already written novels, novellas, but this time I'm working on the story of a young engineer who sails to Western Australia in the hope of striking gold. (Read more...)

GESHE KELSANG GYATSO

There are pivotal years in life. These are not the happy years. Happiness doesn’t alter the course of our journey. The pivotal years are of another kind. Everything collapses, not around us, but within us. Something breaks in our inner house. (Read more...)