Venice Biennale: In Murano, Loris Gréaud vitrifies time...
After five years, the rebirth of the Murano factory was finally held. For proof, let’s enter the former Campiello della Pescheria glassware abandoned for 60 years. Looking up, we discover a ceiling resembling a cave, made up of just over 1,000 pieces in blown glass. Each room consists of medulla glass. Each of them is unique because it is blown in a wooden upholstered clay mold, distorted to each blowing. A glass all the more unique that it comes from sand originated in sandglass users. Loris Greaud wanted indeed some sand on which men projected the time that he intends to "crystallize".
Very quickly, we realize that we’re facing a factory and a production manager who stutter. Beyond the living picture, one slides in a very short poetic loop.
To provide this experience, the founding principle of the French artist was the return of electricity in this useless concrete sarcophagus. Like a Professor Frankenstein, Loris Gréaud has turned back on the furnaces. Electricity is a fundamental theme. It takes an extraordinarily precise form with the revitalization of the place. For the record, Loris Gréaud explains that “an entire avenue had to be turned off on the Murano Island in order to bring back electric power and reactivate this machine...”
Incidentally, what he does not revive is rendered by both chiseled and faithful sounds by a skillful sound creation. Including the smell of fire and steam and, of course, the lights and flames... However, this isn't a recreation. We are literally conquered by the ghost of the activity between life and death, in a way quite conciliar. There is a black side in the Loris Gréaud’s work. This is absolutely clear. We find it in the firing, the fading and the incandescence of the Venetian glassware.
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