A motionless theatre for the mind, which movements are wavering between characters and signs, between script and ideas, signs turning into a movement, hold and petrified in the very action of their birth, playing a fictional part, forever poised between balance and unbalance, between movement and pause, straining from a disappearing reality and from the dizzy presence of a potential truth . Key-signs, dressed in black,  forged to unlock  our dreams, rusted per their long wait in our memories . Everything remains here, between action and rest in a motionless flow. Movement has left a mobile print everywhere, like the signature of someone moving throughout stillness. A fleeting moment becomes a monument. Movements are caught as they pass away, not yet at rest, never at rest anyway. The eye which has been unceasingly reading through this forest of signs, stops for a moment. Fed from all these feelings spread on canvas, a motionless parabola grows inside our soul, releasing this unlimited faith in a common world.

Sébastien Frère, Transparencies
Bernard Combeaud, Paris-Bordeaux
September 30, 2005