They are not skeletons – just. They are alive – just. They are terrifically expressive : we are contemplating our inner painful solitude here, huddling together but locked in ourselves.
I’ve been musing upon this picture since two posters advertising some Eva Aeppli’s old exhibitions caught my eyes in Honfleur (Normandy, France) last week.
When I say they caught my eyes, I mean I couldn’t tear my eyes from them , despite having a long suffering husband in front of me; this was in a small ‘Bistro des Artistes’, and the hospitable lady of the house offered us to turn the pages of one of her books about this Swiss sculptress.
The artist is 83 years old and is retired in Honfleur, a patron of this little ‘cafe’. Most of her cloth sculptures are made of silk; the ones I saw on the cafe’s posters were wholly white, wearing long elaborate dresses, sitting in white wooden armchairs, ghostlike images of an improbable transatlantic liner’s promenade deck.
For more information about the artist (in english): http://www.tinguely.ch/en/exhibition/aeppli_follow.html.
For anyone passing through Honfleur, that little city loved by the impressionists, and wishing for a salad and a friendly, ‘artsy’ atmosphere : Bistro des Artistes, 14 Place Pierre Berthelot,14600 Honfleur,Normandy,France.