I began with an enigma: a book of recipes cherished by its owner but never in the center of any discussions.
Because of its birth origin. How to track this book? Where is the beginning of the story? In 2004, I decided to interview my grandmother about her life during the 20th century. Born in 1918 in rural Burgundy, her life reflects that of many ordinary women in France. A very simple life. A simple life transformed by a vast story. As my grandfather was a much-wanted member of the French Resistance, my grandmother was arrested and deported to the concentration camp for women in Ravensbrück, in northeast of Germany, in July 1944. That’s where the recipe book was born. It’s an imaginary communion assortment and a collective piece of writing. With letting my grandmother speak about her life, I helped her release contained words of our family history. I asked, listened and recorded on magnetic tape. But then, I left it to one side, as if I forgot it, or pretended to forget. The tape was in a plastic box on my desk, waiting, with memories, her story. But was still a fragment, a track. In December 2015, seven years after my grandmother’s death, different ways had been leared from my route.
Invisible doors had been half opened, which let me discover new clues. I’m taking photos of flowers in an enigmatic way with their sepals, petals, explosion of colours and textures. I am those flowers. I am chasing the track of a flamboyant vegetal world. And the magnetic tape on the dusty shel
