Sometimes a notebook isn’t enough for writing a poem.
Because the poem is never finished. Because it is nothing until someone reads it, completes it, erases it, tears it from the wall, glues it back together, until someone tastes [takes?] it and hires it as a bearer of meaning, as a message that will breathe life into an open dialogue that is open to all.
Are words still needed on city walls ? Do you stop by to read them ? Would you take the time to write a comment ? Without any aesthetic ambition, does text catches your attention ? I hope to meet you on my nocturnal jaunts.
To our pencils, pens and charcoals; to our eyes, ears and imagination.
To our friendship through poetry and dialogue !
First of all, I wanted poetry to get out.
I wanted poetry to be at anybody’s reach, on the walls of the cities, where everybody walks, runs and sometimes, stops by and think and read.
I always assumed people would stop walking to read them. They would also write on them, change verses, draw things on it, tear it from the wall…
People would re-write my poems.
I had a PhD project in mind about urban writings (comparative literature/semiology). I wanted to study the theory of textual cooperation by Umberto Eco.
I wrote a manifesto. I thought about three criteria to paste my poems :
The poster had to be
Simple (no design)
Readable (big letters)
Accessible (a child, someone in a wheelchair could write on the poem)
My poems had to be short, efficient. I would paste everywhere at anytime.
I started doing this in Paris, summer 2013. I haven’t stopped since then.
I’ve pasted around France and the world. You can read them as far as Montevideo, Papeete, Capetown, Berlin…