Piste de bobsleigh de la Plagne

This is peak paradoxical artistic production: how beautiful is that thing, but also how disastrous? Aestheticization of disaster, that's what this is, and it's not good. And yet it's so playful! It revives a kind of childlike naivety. It reminds me of when I'd come home from school and drive my little Majorette car along the walls. So cool yet so unnecessary; harmful, even. Anyway, I tried to listen to the child I once was, but turning this aberration into a fun thing was utterly painful for the adult I am. I was in a constant state of duplicity. In the end, I link this work with the ones of Alpe d'Huez, Avoriaz and the Aiguille du Midi: magnificent, hypnotic places that stand for the white-gold fever. From above, it looks a bit like an intestine.