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FR/EN

 

 

Cannibal Hymn is not a representation of a skull, but an operation.
Fire has marked the surface of the stoneware as a definitive burn: carbon is not decorative, it is the trace of an irreversible passage.

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The animal horns, coated with urushi lacquer and genuine cinnabar, extend the bone structure toward deformation. They contaminate the human form, opening it to violent hybridization. Urushi — a living, toxic, unstable material — acts as a ritual binder: it seals, poisons, preserves.

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The green stones, embedded in networks of orange silk threads, evoke less ornament than organ: nervous systems, votive devices, mechanisms of capture. Leather and horsehair hold the ensemble in constant tension between attachment and restraint.

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The title Cannibal Hymn designates a voiceless chant.
Cannibalism is not staged as spectacular violence, but as an act of knowledge: to absorb the other — matter, the living and the dead — in order to incorporate memory.

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The skull ceases to function as a symbol of finitude.
It becomes an unstable altar, a device of transformation, a site where desire, destruction, and survival converge.