Tears are the subject of this work by Charles Guilbert, in which in a great constellation of sketches are pinned to the wall while emitting the music of André Ristic (Charles Guilbert).

What are we to do with our bodies, the adventures they have had, the cities in which they waste themselves, with the cooking, the wounds?

Dress them. With flags and secrets.

Charles is dressed in phrases. Especially when wearing shirts. Phrases on the backs of boys. Sentences with missing buttons, lost buttons. Untucked phrase-tails dropping out of pants. They tell of things. Ordinary things. They shine. They’re not special. Or do they mislead us? Maybe they are? Simplicity will lead us to the truth. The shirts will show us the way. Shirts on the body, flamboyant shirts with fire and rain and air. They cover everything. They tremble. They are the flags of fabulous countries.

Let’s open the shirts. Undo the buttons. They conceal treasures. Roads, countryside, dishes, cabins, cars, whispered names. They sing songs. They’re not afraid of anything. They’ve got wind in their sails. Then they keep quiet. Get ruffled. Get spotted with tears. The tears are almost invisible. One finds them with fingers.

Tears are deceitful. They’re not rain. They’re not water. Tears break everything.

Shirts soaked in tears are heavy. Dangerous, they drag us along. One must leave them. Abandon the clothes. Tears will have stripped us. We will see our torsos and their secrets. We will hear our hearts.

Clothes will mark us by their protection. The blazing of the shirts. Only our hair will protect us.

I put tears in your clothes

One day they will be too big

I put tears in your hair

One day they will tangle

O wicked tears

wicked tears

I put tears in your coffee

One day it will be too strong

I put tears in your car

One day it will take you away

O mean tears

mean tears

I put tears where I am

O mean tears

mean tears

André Harvey

 

resume of the artist

 

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