Clyde Lepage
Perspectives tracées
One does not choose the landscape of one\'s youth. Depending on adults, you grow up where they live. My family lived between Namur and Liège, on both sides of the river \"la Meuse\", in Wallonia, Belgium. In the car, in the bus, in the train, I watched the landscape melt into the speed. The incessant scrolling of images hypnotized me. I was drugged at the sight of this endless travelling, that of my own road-movie. I projected my fantasies of another life, which would have been framed by these thousands of ephemeral landscapes. Condemned to disappear in the moment, each snapshot offered me another possible world. I was always disappointed to arrive, to leave the universe from the window. For three years now, I have been returning regularly to this territory. I\'ve broken the windows of cars, buses, trains, to throw myself entirely into the landscape. On foot, I can pause my old film as many times as I want and satisfy my curiosity. I set off in search of a vanished world, the one of the memories of my youth. I track its traces, I unearth its relics. In these places that inspired me so much then, characters appear, stories take shape. The grey daily life of a region marked by the vestiges of industrialization seems to me to be a source of the uncanny: something else is going on there. Influenced by Belgian cinema and its black poetry, oscillating between burlesque fiction and social documentary, I draw a subjective portrait of my region.
