Installation to the MILL – La Louvière
The Star Field is a monumental installation that transcends the boundaries of reality and explores the spatio-temporal dimension of our planet through the trajectory of the sun.
This project is inspired by the Goseck Circle, the first astronomical observatory erected about 7,000 years ago in Germany. The architecture of this observatory aligns with the sunrises and sunsets during the winter and summer solstices. It was thus the first known calendar, allowing farmers to determine the timing of sowing, harvesting, and the various agricultural stages. This site also held sacred significance, closely tied to the connection between man and the universe.
In this spirit, the Star Field also serves as a gathering place and a site of communion with earthly temporality. The installation consists of a multitude of mirrors arranged in both natural and urban spaces. Each mirror is meticulously oriented to converge the sun’s rays just before the twilight of the summer solstice toward a precise point—the spectator. It is at this moment of the year that the solar reflections dazzle them, forming a field of stars that illuminates the earthly landscapes with an ephemeral surrealism. The work invites the spectator to participate in a unique moment, to witness the cosmic harmony that governs our existence.
By celebrating the summer solstices, this grand installation reminds us of our fleeting nature in the infinite universe. It encourages us to reflect on our place within the cosmos, to become aware of our responsibility toward our planet, and to nurture our connection with nature. Each year, this event offers us the opportunity, for a brief moment, to marvel at the grandeur of life and to celebrate the fragile beauty of our existence.
Installation at Bozar Museum – Brussels
“The Great Blaze” is a series of burnt wood pieces that echo three memories, near or distant, each intimately tied to fire and my personal loss.
On three occasions, death approached me by surprise: the first time was when I was a child, and my brother threw a gas canister into a fire fueled by cardboard and plastic waste. Then, a bit later, when the spontaneous combustion of a hay bale destroyed the neighboring farm. And again, when I woke one morning during a storm, with lightning piercing the sky, atop an alpine mountain. It’s as if, in my memory, life sought to burn me at all costs.
This series aims to capture the essence of those intensely brutal memories. The randomly burnt surfaces express the hazy, vaporous feeling that emerges from such violent experiences. It’s hard to have a clear image of the event as it happens, but when stepping back, certain details begin to surface. In this way, memory, like a charred remnant, reveals itself through the extraction of this burnt material.
This project transcends the mere representation of memories to capture their very essence. The works become visual testimonies of a troubled reality, where the boundaries between past and present, pain and resilience, blur.
Installation at Anciens abattoirs – Mons
“My pigeons fly in the storm” is an installation in memory of my homing pigeons that disappeared in a violent storm in 2003.
Every morning, before heading to my village school, I would open the hatch of my pigeon loft. With three beats of their wings, my pigeons would soar into the depths of the sky. From the window of my classroom, I watched them circle around the church steeple, proudly telling my classmates: look, those are my pigeons!
I was eight years old, and my pigeons were as much a part of me as I was.
One summer afternoon, the sky filled with clouds until it turned black as night. As torrents of rain lashed against the classroom windows, only one thought crossed my mind: I hope my pigeons have found shelter somewhere. When I returned home that evening, drenched from the rain, my pigeon loft was empty. I shouted and shook their seeds in a plastic bucket, hoping to guide them back home. The entire night was not enough to bring them back.
The installation is a space that pauses the moment when my pigeons were lost in a chaotic sky. Everything is frozen: the wind has stopped blowing, the raindrops suspended mid-air glow at the heart of the storm. In the infinite reflection of the storm’s depths, the lights of my pigeon loft flicker, like a lighthouse sending out its final hope of guiding its inhabitants back.
Installation at Camion – Roubaix
Hello Robin, I hope everything is going well for you. Mom heard that there were violent storms in the Alps. Any problems?
It’s passing by us!
The storm will reach us tomorrow at 8 a.m.
Okay. Keep us updated and, above all, stay safe.
No worries! Enjoy your time with Lilou.
Text exchange between my father and me on Monday, August 7, 2017, at 9:07 p.m.
The next day, the storm arrived two hours early and woke us in a torrent of rain and lightning. My friend and I were sleeping in my tent at the summit of Mont Joly in the Alps. The winds blew in all directions, and lightning flashed all around us. So, we packed up our things and left the tent behind. It was far too dangerous to stay up there any longer.
Two days later, we climbed Mont Joly again to retrieve my tent. All that was left were the charred metal poles and the fabric consumed by the flames of the lightning.
©Robin Dervaux, 2024