David Widart

A strange, sometimes violent world. Sweet ramblings. Once it gets moving, a wobbly wheel placed on an axle traces a continuous line and throws off splashes. The inevitable shuddering from left to right provokes a joyful sensation, like a frenetic dance. It symbolises the unequalled beauty of imperfection. A sort of equilibrium amid confusion.

A flood of images which passes, sometimes head-on and sometimes as allusions. It can be read most easily in the faces, but also in the confused signs we pick up from the cityscape, in the shifting of anecdotes, even in the writing of light and shadow. This series of photos is the central sample of an ever-changing flood.