Upernavik is a space of light whose dense edges are made visible by the layers of snow that mark the passing of time. Darkness is a far away mirage. It's a anti-urban territory that quickly erases any anthropic traces and induces a creativity/instinct, mediated by the reflections of a mind always alerted because deprived of sleep and darkness.
I have caught my eye looking as a hound would do for residues of civilisation, for stories, cod fish hung to dry, fishermen nets, flamed matches, and plumes from the distant Paris that on the snow translated vanity into a aestethic question. I have found in the seaweeds' brilliant nature elements of visual poetry and in a yard full of crosses, wooden signs planted at intervals regulated by the measure of the bodies placed there to rest, the illusion of darkness, which, in Upernavik, appears to be outside the natural index.
In this scenery color is an interval of light, its negative capacity, able to generate the horizon and containing the tones of emotions. And the spectacle of the two spheres, the sun and the moon together in the visual cone, is a powerful metaphor of the infinite ways one can see.
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