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Welcome in Switzerland at Photobooks Festival in Bienne, #Editions Bessard will be at the Photoforum Pasquart, Seevorstadt 71, CH–2502 Biel / Bienne Hope to see you at the bookmarket, ,next week Vendredi & Samedi

The photography book, which is nowadays the preferred medium of choice for many photographers, is at the heart of Photobooks Switzerland, an event initiated by the photographer Anastasia Mityukova. While the artist’s book has already been discussed more broadly, this is the first event of its kind devoted specifically to the photographic book in Switzerland. Photobooks Switzerland aims to bring the best of independent contemporary photographic publishing to Switzerland. It seeks to open up reflection and discussion about the status and importance of the photo book, as well as to convey new inputs and impressions about the possibility of the medium in the Swiss cultural scene.

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#BillHenson,a photobook to come in few weeks, « Principio Erat » #HappyInfluencer , 2 versions of 500 copies each, These two c-prints are: « reclining girl » and « standing arms above head » #HappyPublisher

Noli me tangere par Pierre Bessard

De tous ses yeux, la créature voit l’ouvert.
Tel est le début de la huitième Elégie de Duino, du poète allemand Rainer Maria Rilke.
L’ouvert est un espace qu’habitent les elfes, les innocents, les saints.
Cet infini, Bill Henson le perçoit dans la beauté terrible de ses modèles, inscrits sur fond noir, comme si les ténèbres chantaient.
Ses sculptures d’êtres de chair sont des sources de jouvence, des photographies conçues pour traverser le temps, à la façon des vaisseaux amiraux des opéras de Wagner.
Les emporte un souffle romantique qui est dépassement, appel du sublime, éblouissement de solitude en un monde retourné par la laideur.
Parmi les ruines et les temples de la nature s’avancent des êtres diaphanes, de purs rêves, d’inaccessibles fantômes.
Venus du lointain, ce sont des intouchables.
Ils sont silencieux, sacrés, intimidants, comme si la mort ne les effrayait pas.
Continuateurs de la statuaire classique, ils n’ont pas d’âge, souverains et sauvages, ce sont des déités de présence rare.
Pétris de glaise, les voici qui se mettent à voler, bien loin des humains suffrages.
La nuit désirée est leur abri, telle une protection de verre invisible.
Bienheureux, vous êtes nés d’Orphée, juge sévère.
Gloire au souffle créateur, gloire aux astres voyageurs, gloire aux êtres neufs, gloire à l’inentamé.
Appuyés aux anciens parapets, nous souffrons d’être si pesants, quand vous êtes vin, vigne, flèches et messagers.
ô tension pure !
ô joie qui abonde !
ô musique des sphères !
Mais qui donc, si je criais, m’écouterait dans les ordres des anges ?

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#BillHenson, new photobook to come soon, “Principio Erat” #HappyInfluencer 2 versions of 500 copies each, These two c-prints are: “reclining girl” and “standing arms above head” #HappyPublisher

By Pierre Bessard

The creature gazes into the openness with all its eyes.

So begins Duino’s Eighth Elegy, by the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke.

The openness is a space inhabited by elves, innocents, saints.

Bill Henson perceives this infinity, this openness, in the terrible beauty of his models, inscribed on a black background, as though the shadows could sing. 

His sculptures of flesh are sources of youth, photographs designed to stand the test of time, like Wagner’s operatic masterpieces.

They take with them a romantic breath that is surpasses a call to the sublime, a dazzling solitude in a world turned gruesome.

Among the ruins of the past and the eternal temples of nature come diaphanous beings, pure dreams, inaccessible ghosts.

From afar, they are untouchable.  
  
They are silent, sacred, intimidating, as if death did not frighten them.

Descendants of the tradition of classical statuary, they have no age. Sovereign and savage, they are deities with rare presence.

Kneaded from clay, they take to flight, far from human suffering.

The night full of desire is their shelter, an invisible glass shield surrounding them. 

Blessed are you born of Orpheus, the severe judge.

Glory to the creative breath, glory to the travelling stars, glory to the new beings, glory to the uninitiated.

Supported by the old parapets, we suffer from being so heavy, while you are wine, vine, arrows and messengers in one.

Oh, pure tension!

Oh, joy that abounds!

Oh, music of the globe!

But if I cry out, who in the orders of the angels will listen to me?