Sur la montagne sans nom

The flowers of which tree
impossible to know
but such a fragrance!
(BASHO)

The flowers of which tree
impossible to know
but such a fragrance!
(BASHO)
The dream of Roland Barthes: to know a foreign language (strange) and yet not to understand it: to perceive in it the difference, without this difference being never recovered by the superficial sociability of the language, (…) in a word, to descend into the untranslatable, experiencing the shock without ever damping it … (The Sign Empire)

The dream of the thinker echoes strangely with the writing of “On the nameless mountain”. Yet the work was born unexpectedly, emerged from a reading, poetic images and strength of Japanese haikus Basho or Issa. These brief and powerful forms are imposed on the composer who has made it a place of inner exploration, sonorous play and experimentation. Each poem unfolds, opens a space of energy and sounds: a color, a cluster of notes, a fragrance in a garden, a fan … The poetic image that becomes sound, plunges the composer into a new state of perception of vibrations, oscillations, undulations … A universe in suspension. Small noises that tell the intimate or the distant, shadows like a trainee, the echo, the breath, the sparkle …

Suddenly a slow space invades the choir like a fragrance that spreads. “Something very very old comes up, without me knowing what it is. “