Camille
Levert, photographer
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| Hidden
Toys |
| When I try to remember what kind of little girl I used
to be, what kind of games I used to play, the first words that come out to my mouth
are: hidden places. Imaginary home made out of sheets on the parents’ balcony, imaginary hut in the most far place of the family garden, secret drawer in my table, tiny puppets hidden under the mattress, highly forbidden wooden box that I made myself and where I locked secret little letters that my best girl friends gave to me at school, preferably during class. It’s all about secrets kept from the others, especially grown-ups. It was highly important, I can remember. I think we all remember the excitement we felt when we closed the door, the tent’s sheets, and the imaginary house, switched the lights of the real and boring world off, and slipped to the one of our own creation. This is precisely the feeling that every artist needs to keep in mind, in hands, and endlessly tries to recover. And on the other hand, it is funny to realize, once grown-up, that none of those secret places was really unknown of the parents. Even if not visited by them, they definitely must have been acknowledged. Because parents do know everything. And this is where another important notion for an artist comes out. The liberty of doing things. They knew, but they let us invent those things. Without interfering, most of the time. At least, that is what I remember. So, this work is about hidden toys that are not really hidden. Imaginary spaces that are not exactly imaginary. This is about childhood, secret, and liberty. (May 2010) |
| Hidden toys | |
|
the truck | |
|
the pistol | |