Installation sonore, rires queer diffusés dans l'espace public via un mégaphone, accompagnés d'une vidéo-texte visionnable directement sur son téléphone.
En réaction notamment au sketch queerphobe de Claude-Inga Barbey pour le journal le Temps et plus généralement à la queerphobie et l'idée que l'on ne pourrait plus rien dire.
2021
ENG
Sound installation, queer laughter broadcast in the public space via a megaphone, accompanied by a video-text viewable directly on your phone.
In particular in reaction to Claude-Inga Barbey's queerphobic sketch for the newspaper Le Temps and more generally to queerphobia and the idea that we could “no longer say anything”.
2021
We are fluid
We laugh
We touch this feeling of pleasure and strangeness
We interrupt with our voices their armored and rigid bodies
Our laughter spurts out
Our laughs are our emotions compressed into fake bodies
Our laughs are not mocking but you could be ashamed
Troubled waters, troubled genders
Flash, interruption
We are invisible but our voices will know
from our wet mouths will come the glow
The skin is wet, the diaphragm is contracted
Breathing is jerky, interrupted, thrown
The body contracts spits the voice makes it flow
Wet skin
Blood red
The gush, we snort, our crooked features, we gasp,
tears flow
Spasms
Pleasure hormones
Against your harassment that kills
Our shrill voices are low, we scream, we fight
We chuckle with a hyena laugh that is neither humor,
nor joy, nor mockery
As them we know the hierachies, the insecurities, the fear
We communicate
Hyenas have a bad reputation
Hyenas have penis-like clitoris
Trouble in the science, trouble in the hierarchisation
We laugh, not defined by our genitalias, we laugh
We don’t speak words they won’t listen to
We let our voices scare them
As they are afraid of our waters, afraid of our interstices, afraid of our in between,
afraid of not knowing if we are women or men,
if we are foolish,
if their power will die under our wet and loose voices
Our laughs don't praise their jokes
They won't be able to profit from it
Our laughter bursts from within, interrupting your checks, soaking the pores of our skin
Euphoric, hysterical, magical
We make common with our voices, our sufferings, our pleasures, banal, equal
Our verb is wet, fluid, it comes from the bottom of the belly,
they will not be able to control everything
They ask for the implosion of shameful bodies
We cause our proud bodies to explode
May the water drown their rigid eyes