A small part of the personal texts exposed at the show 'Profiles of Chaos' at the Paraplufabriek:

I don't want to decorate, I don't want to make objects to look at. I don't have taste, I wasn't educated to estimate art.
Today I am still the little girl, who remarks with astonishment, that the sand sliding through her fingers is as real as her father, milking the cows a little bit further on. I am still the teen-ager staring every night to the stars and  secretly sending a hand kiss to the beloved neighbor boy, and who hopes to come closer to both the boy and the stars when she will be older. Once older she is studying biology. Always more details in the microscope, continually more reduction, she wants to know life. I am still that girl. In the mean time I learned a lot, I lived a lot. I now know, that life is unknowable, that the other person is unknowable and I have the feeling that I am living just one of my possible lives.

I can know nothing outside myself, so evidently there is no frontier. But I meet other persons and I feel lonely in my world with no frontiers. I can look at myself and the other as autonomous systems. Very complex systems with relative, but strong, stability  because of internal feed-back and absence of communication with the outside. I can only increase my possibilities of communication by risking to become less stable as a system and on knowing I will always only know myself, but a myself that contains more of the other as before.

Division. The first time I treated the theme of division, concerned an affirmation of a mark of  division already existent: the one on the baseball field in Bar sur Loup. The division of the territory of the teams had become material and the baseball play impossible. New rules are necessary to be able to play a new game. In this work, you already find the notion of  division as passage.

One of the possibilities in the show at Forum in Nice, was a wall of paintings dividing the space in two. Because Forum has two similar entrances, it was chance who decided if you saw a wall painted or a wall of wood and tissue. So there was no different approach to the painted and the not painted. They were both used to make painting a border event. It is impossible to live them at the same moment, they are separated in space. Space is used to divide the front and the back, the content and the form, who are however one in the object. But to divide doesn't mean to distinguish. Clearness doesn't exists in chaotic borders. Form might become content and content might become form. A very little difference can provoke the change from the one to the other, can make you see the wall as wall or as wall. But if you pass through the opening in the wall, you can, for a moment, for a laps of time hardly noticeable, at the moment when your body is in the wall, exist in the unified space.  At that particular moment you are a part of what is dividing, without you noticing it. Unification is found in the passage.

Every one of your words alienates. Every form is a loss of communication possibilities with the other. Communication is division. Strange.