Adelaide Renault

Yet what we see doesn't look like sculpture. In doing so, Adélaïde is like a potter; her gestures are those of a potter, her colors are the colors of old brown palettes, her shapes are those of dressers. What we see is the size of a child's body, what we see shines and is dotted with horses. In the Epinal image of Grandma's house, everything is connected by the wallpaper. The Chinese vase matches the TV remote control because the wallpaper behind it creates a unified scene. Adélaïde is a grandmother's house. Adélaïde connects everything within her walls with wallpaper. But what we see doesn't look like wallpaper: more like a large, clear line that covers everything. The child's body has stood up and drawn all over the wall. Churches marry flowers, Arthur gets engaged. Fish dive into shoes, and the head drawn on the plate suddenly has a body of its own, a body that is the wall in its entirety. The child's enameled hands have re-cooked themselves on his belly, the pot has imposed its decoration everywhere.