Life! Life! Life!
How to use a libidinal economy
Laurent Faulon methodically dismembers—in the symbolic sense of course
—the civilised human being. The libidinal theatre on whose stage social
rituals are played is his place of work. The spectator of one of his actions
or a witness of one of his situations, you are gained by a troubling feeling
of déja vu. You recognise places, objects, images… You recognise them
so well that their presence out of context disturbs you: what familiarity!
Your life has been formed in the company of all these silent things. You
have incorporated them in your environment, without even thinking about
it. All the material items used by the artist are drawn from the clutter that
forms your very life—the heap of things that surround you, that wear
on your body and that you ingurgitate. All these things clustered around
your body, that clump together on the surface of your skin and go as far
as penetrating via orifices to irrigate your organs and that you don't seem
to be able to do without. In truth, because you have to admit it, you would
not be able to do without the nonetheless strange company of these everyday
consumer objects, these diabolically animated machines that fetter
your life by giving you an entirely fallacious impression of freedom. All
the fetishes that civilisation invents to reassure human beings faced with
their finiteness. All these possessions that the suicidal family described by
Michael Haneke in his film The Seventh Continent (1989) destroys methodically
before they all kill themselves. To disappear without leaving a trace.
To negate the value of material things—going as far as the absolute taboo
of flushing money down the toilet. The ultimate revenge on consumerism
before nihilistic destruction. Death will not release them.
The artist is not a shaman; he will not relieve you of the unpleasant feeling
of being lastingly subjected to the economic and social order. The artist
is not a moralist; he will not show you how to think well.
The artist catalyses the anguish that links you to the collective nightmare. He brings everything to the surface. Using very few items judiciously
positioned in space he invites you to a disturbing experience, but one that
is never traumatic. You will recognise much of what you might have experienced
Laurent Faulon favours abandoned sites, shattered ruins, buildings under
construction and deconsecrated venues, inviting spectators to take an
exploratory walk, to encounter strange situations. The disturbing aspect
comes from the coupling and the movement of things. Paysage de fantaisie.
Vibrating sausages emerge from mattresses. Old stained mattresses laid on the floor. Ripped open. Fungi and moulds. Phalluses evoking terrible
power-taking. All the figures of authority are called upon here to suffer
in return the indignity of their pretension to take control of lives.