crossing over

NGC galaxy, NASA

Death precedes rebirth.
We actually leave the body
Through the crown
Straight into the stars, and back to earth.
To Something else

Fear of death, checked.

Before the actual rebirth, a  loss of vitality prevents us from the slightest distraction. A state of energetic numbness for long enough to ask.. what is It that animated us..? Encaged in a body devoid of liveliness, we start to question how we could get -It- back. We crave the light reflecting on the flowers. The birds flying through the sunny sky. The red fruits. No art, no music, no religion could ever move anything but these simple elementary things. We touch the core of our being by the loss of It. It is not solely a mojo thing, It is not depression. It might be a « dark night of the soul ». Or not even that yet. We sense It couldn’t get any deeper. Devoid of any external satiation, we get closer to our true selves… only when it is not sought after can It be revealed. Kundalini has Its own agenda. Consciousness. Matter. We don’t know what we’re surrendering to. Until we let it all go. The need to know. And when this happens, It bursts and rises along the axis. A beautiful elixir. Mysterious. Received.

 The « O » void, embroidery

The golden flower/ Eros

At some point in the healing process, we return to the simple enjoyment of things here on earth, no more sticking to ideas, no more seeking, no more pursuits or identifying for the sake of it. We delve in those spaces, only for commentary, only to play. We are free to switch back and forth.

One masters Truth, and the other one masters Love, until both meet up and merge into silence. We were already there. But all stages are necessary, and as long as we return, it’s okay to wander.

Autumnal introspection


« Souvenir d’une autre vie »

During the awakening activation phase, many past lives and timeline memories are brought up to awareness. Some lives we didn’t do good, and acknowledging it helps us deal with our own shadow selves before we solely point it toward an external source. We start seeing the two sides of each and everything within ourselves, the light and the dark as the extremes of a one continuum with infinite nuances, and the whole universe within us. I made this piece while going through another such phase of shadow work, which thankfully makes us find a new level of peace, and love.

Emma Kunz study


Emma Kunz (1892-1963) was a Swiss artist, healer and spiritual researcher, born to a family of weavers. She made large drawings on graph paper, one of which I reinterpreted here with embroidery.


Inside the « grotto » at the Emma Kunz zentrum in Wurenlos, Switzerland, where she found her healing rock « Aion A ». Now something to ponder on : I remember hearing a big contemporary artist say that her work was pretty insignificant at this time artistically speaking but that she was of great importance for human evolution. Which one will last? Which one do you choose if there is such a choice to make?

Brazil 2014

Iguazu Falls, Brazil 2014

Abadiania, Brazil 2014

Delving into the Brazilian spiritualist traditions for the first time in January 2014. The day I arrived a man told me about soul connections, Kundalini and the blue pearl. The day I left, I saw light beings dancing all around me and a duet rising far up in the sky. In between, a psychic surgeon named John of God, scratching the eyes of an old man with a kitchen knife.. and people from all around the world in search for less suffering.


Entering the gate.
Remembering the North Pole and back.


At the crossroad for Truth or Power
In the maze of our lives
An occultist has returned
And kneels to repent
A white owl is standing
In a night full of stars
Lights and Ufos we can’t see
They all look to find
God streaming through a man
In the middle of Brazil
Humans pray for long hours
Their scrutinize their wars inside
And meet here to make peace
With the path of the diseased
Flashes of rain and a hot sun
On top of the hills
A horse is watching
Marginal people
Staying or leaving
Toward another entrance
Seeking the Gold

Tales from Brittany #3


Jumping from mind to mind, stuck in obsessions, the little things of others, the little worries of others. She channels the possibilities. « Let go, let go even more, until there is nothing left. » Caught in aerial thoughts, she flies away, she hides in the clouds. I want to be safe, I want to belong. Birthing on earth as she goes, it’s a long landing on the fastest route. 21 years of age.

A cardboard box full of colorful feathers

Small objects from her travels

Ottoman oracles

Lie on the table.

Once in a while she reaches out from the ethers where she serves for the souls.
« I help them go away, I light them a candle for a smoother transition. »

A tale from Brittany #2


Our land is fleeting
From idoles to icons
As we progress through the greens
Layering its wilderness
What is this church
Which tells a story
In praise of the Seven

The Grail

A blue pearl rises
Wearing the purple robe
To celebrate the marriage
For the twos
And the third

The universal
White star

A snake is spiraling up

I came here with company
Two haunting ghosts
In place of shadows
Until they cut the knots
Until they cut the ties
Unchained from Egypt
Giving birth
To the moon and the sun
And a lost son
Who never came back
Repeated tragedies
Cross many lifelines
Filling our fantasies
With unpalpable truths
As ways to cope
For the oldest souls
Coming over once again
To replay their wounds
And the love is still here
Familiar and sweet
For a recognition so rare
In a world full of strangers
Like knowing each others habits
Like reading each others depths
But there is a hole somewhere
A gap
An ancient pain
That needs to be felt again

In between the 7 churches
In Iran or Istanbul
She seeks for the traces
The legacy of Saint John
Hinting the minds of the awakened
Through the blink of an Eye

On a heart shaped rock
Sits the young woman
With He
Who used to be her husband
Across from a thin line
Created by erosion
A script is at play
In form
In fiery bodies
As time collapses
To smokey memories

The Golden Flower I

Monte Alban, Oaxaca, Mexico 

Hills of Mexico
Pale and dry
I have come for sunny pills
On the land of cochineal
My pulsing blood
Hang on walls of cacti
Calling for fourteen years
When the plumerias were shown
In between lights
At the garden of Eve
By the greatest bloom
A snake
An eye
The drive
Adorned by dog bites
With so many rays
Died in hues of blues
Pull the universe
Out of round bellies

It is soon


And I wonder why
I went this far to come back
With all and nothing
But knowledge hidden to all
As the finest gems are
Bland and useless
To the joyful people

There is one more paradox
That has yet to persist
On our path of return
For whom has ever lost
The seeds of eros
For whom is catching up

With the golden flower



Oaxaca, Mexico, April 2017

Bona fide temazcal experience with our dear zapotec weaving teacher maestra Norma and her family, during Arquetopia art residency in Oaxaca. Despite our mutual language barrier, they let us share their private lodge for a powerful cleansing ritual with warm kindness.

Temazcal is a meso-american structure (« sweat lodge ») for healing, health improvement and purification. Our teacher’s sister entered the lodge -entirely, from head to toe- and lied beside us as we got in -one after the other- to cover us with herbs wet with hot water. But all of us 3 visitors had to keep our breath at the entrance of the lodge as it is extremely hot inside, enough for our bathing suit to quickly get super wet from our own sweat. After 3 cycles of heat and cooling down, we were wrapped in total meditative well being, peace and renewal. It’s somehow easy to sense that Temazcal was and is also used as a portal to alternate states of consciousness.