October 2008, 78°13'N, 15°38'E, Longyearbyen, Svalbard, one of the last intact places on earth, the light disappears.



Twenty-one days during which the sun lowers its course until it rises no more.



This work is based around the polar landscape as seen during those colourful days. Changing from a deep orange to a deep blue, through a range of yellows, pinks and even greens, the object is subjected to an untameable light.



As a writer follows his pen, so this was a time to follow the light, using the landscape as an intermediary. A failing light for a failing landscape, a place on earth where the impact of global warming is at its most visible, visions of a double agony.



These images talk about Thomas Mann’s magical mountain, they talk about Japanese stamps, Chinese engravings.



But there is something else. There are other aspects to this work. This switch from what reality is and beyond is something only man can build. There’s nothing more than a particular reality at first glance. There’s nothing more real than the world that surrounds us because it’s different from what is known.



Far from any ecological statement, this double agony reminds us of a known future. First, the ice cap will slowly melt, so as to tease us about our mistakes, and then fossil fuels will become profitable. As an Alaska full of oil wells, we’ll find more and more coal mines, exploited by different countries (each country who signed the

Svalbard Treaty can exploit the areas natural resources without conditions).

The landscape will die by man, and the only thing left will be the image. Whether it is mine or not is not important.