When I was a kid, I only knew a very few things on the mother of my father: her name was Camille and she died before I was born. That’s it. One day, I discovered a video tape hidden in a cupboard with a label on it: “Camille Claudel”. While I was telling to my teacher my grandmother was called Camille Claudel, she replied that she was a sculptor and added that she was crazy. Years after, I discovered the truth: my grandmother was finally not Camille Claudel… It is the relation between the sculpture and the photography that mostly interested me in this project. Some constructions, simple and direct, question the viewer on themes such as confinement, loneliness, and relationship to the body. This work, born from the confusion on the identity of my grandmother Camille, finally deals with me, with my identity, my fears and my complexes. My body, confined and tourmented, is omnipresent. 

 

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