[...] I don't want to tell something in the sense of a story with a beginning and an end, or even use drawing as a tool for protest or indignation. It's more a question of delving into the complexity of relationships between humans, humans with animality, humans with death, humans with things, and the questions of power induced by these relationships. When my imagination collides with reality, I don't make drawings to tell viewers «look how bad the world is» - they can see for themselves on a daily basis. It's the density of living things that interests me, and the tension in relationships that underlies and encompasses their diversity. This friction with reality can give rise to the shadow of a doubt, and that's a much more pleasurable dimension. This can produce a hermetic dialogue, as my drawings sometimes do, but they bear witness to the fruitfulness of this inevitable friction. Strangely enough, when we read poetry, we don't ask ourselves why what we're reading is poetic. We often stumble over ourselves in front of an image, perhaps because we mistakenly think that the work is done. But you still have to work hard at what's stumbling. That's why I don't like definitive images that immediately impose a meaning that's comfortably acceptable. I'd always prefer images that make something inside me waver by virtue of their incompleteness, by opening onto something that can't be resolved.

Interview with Philippe Ancelin,

Exhibition Disparates , Bourg-La-Reine

September 2016.