{"id":19160,"title":"Gijs Milius - 2015 - Dissolving Obstacles [EN, essay]","dimensions":"3 p.","date_begin":null,"material":"","art_status_id":13,"legal_status_id":47,"category_id":25,"platform_id":1,"deleted":false,"asset_count":1,"stream_count":0,"collection":"Hans Theys Archive / Archief Hans Theys","cached_tag_list":"essay","publishing_process_id":1,"annotation":"","date_end":null,"reference":"","stream_count_app":9,"permalink":"gijs-milius-dissolving-obstacles-en-essay","description_ca":"","short_description_ca":"","description_it":"","short_description_it":"","cached_primary_asset_url":null,"cached_actor_names":"Hans Theys","hide_from_json":true,"prev_platform_id":null,"description_uk":null,"short_description_uk":null,"description_tr":null,"short_description_tr":null,"mhka_works":false,"category":{"en":"Text","nl":"Tekst","fr":"Texte"},"poster_image":null,"poster_credits":null,"translations":[{"locale":"en","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eDissolving Obstacles\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eSome words about meeting Gijs Milius \u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nGijs Milius (\u0026deg;1985) invites me for a stroll through a little park that\u0026rsquo;s hidden between the towers in the North Quarter of Brussels. It\u0026rsquo;s used by people of all ages. The weather is nice, the park visitors are happy and friendly. However, what makes this place special for Milius are the yellow-painted monumental concrete remnants of an unidentifiable construction, and the unusual grass covered hills behind which the adjacent office buildings arise. It\u0026rsquo;s as if we were standing on a papier-m\u0026acirc;ch\u0026eacute; model. Not because the towers seem big, but because they seem small. Everything seems to fit. We walk through a beautiful, dense, three-dimensional collage, feeling free and uplifted. As we sit down, watching ten year olds ride their bikes through a fountain, Milius tells me a joke about two men who think they recognize each other from across the river Seine in Paris. In the end, when they meet on a bridge, they both prove to be wrong. The development of this joke involves an elaborate description of the men\u0026rsquo;s walk through Paris, which I fully relate to because I left Paris only a few days ago. Milius however, doesn\u0026rsquo;t know this. He just enjoys taking me through a spatial narrative. Why this detailed precision? It\u0026rsquo;s clear that both heroes direct themselves to the historic center of the city, but in vain. One walks South, coming from the eighteenth district (Montmartre), the other walks North, coming from the Quartier Latin. It\u0026rsquo;s like a reversed story by Kafka, where the heroes try to leave the city, secretly impeded by the never mentioned hills around Prague. I found out later that Milius lived in Paris for several years. Not in the historical center, of course, but in a hideous suburb. The heroes of his joke seem to do better, until they prove to be someone else.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eThe visit to the park and the consequent unfolding of the joke remain with me as I\u0026rsquo;m looking at a painted sculpture in the exhibition space of B.A.D. Entering the room, we are confronted with a vertically erected painted wooden surface occupying almost a complete section of the room, nearly touching the ceiling and both walls. The outlines of the surface form a potato shaped silhouette, slightly reminding us of a peanut shell. Then again, on closer inspection the shape might rather be defined as \u0026lsquo;trying to look like a potato shaped silhouette\u0026rsquo; because the borders seem to be indecisive. The same impression holds when we look at the painted surface, which looks like a faint imitation of a Richter-like deviation from a \u0026lsquo;Nymph\u0026eacute;a\u0026rsquo; by Monet. This overall effect is broken by three or four sprayed stripes suggesting volume or movement. We can also walk around the sculpture and appreciate the wooden construction supporting it, including an old shoe serving as a wedge. As such, the sculpture-painting reminds us of a theatre prop. Indeed, not so long ago Milius created a theatre prop with a cut out wooden shape painted to look like a bulging nose. In this new painting, however, no depth is suggested, except by the sprayed on lines. \u0026ldquo;I used a bad spray paint,\u0026rdquo; the artist tells me, \u0026ldquo;that\u0026rsquo;s why the chrome doesn\u0026rsquo;t really cover the surface\u0026rdquo;. This remark reminds me of Pierre Bismuth explaining to me paintings by Sterling Ruby. \u0026ldquo;They seemed to be sprayed from too far away,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;so that the paint seemed to have barely reached the canvas\u0026rdquo;. Milius tells me that Sterling Ruby\u0026rsquo;s work is always on his mind. I don\u0026rsquo;t tell him I discovered recently that Ruby\u0026rsquo;s mother was Dutch, which might partly account for Milius\u0026rsquo; fascination (he is Dutch as well), because I start feeling what his work must be about, and I\u0026rsquo;m excited. I don\u0026rsquo;t want to bring his work back to my world, I would like to be able to start drifting with it, away from the center of Paris, back to the suburbs, where our worlds meet in another way (Poverty, be it stringent or \u0026lsquo;decent\u0026rsquo;, as the Dutch writer Gerard Reve coined it, tells you things that the rich will never know.) and back to the future: to new ways of seeing and showing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eMilius, who grew up in the Dutch city of Utrecht, tells me about the shopping mall called Hoog Catharijne. He doesn\u0026rsquo;t know that my favourite aunt lives nearby, and that I visited this mall before he was even born. In a tunnel under this mall, he tells me, used to live drug addicts in abodes made out of cardboard boxes. He loved this place, which was called \u0026ldquo;cardboard city\u0026rdquo;. He is also very fond of the progress-minded seventies architecture, which today is replaced by nostalgic interventions. Let\u0026rsquo;s open up the sewers again, for they used to be such picturesque brooks!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eWe leaf through his magnificent drawings. Recently he organized an exhibition of drawings made by other artists. It seemed inappropriate to show his own drawings as well, he tells me. His stories reveal him as an empathic and astute observer of the artwork made by his friends. He generously, but minutely shares his impressions about works by Nicolas Bourthoumieux, Douglas Eynon, Bram Boomgaardt, Gauthier Oushoorn, Angel Vergara and many others.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eI look at three painted pieces of wood put together to form a clumsy imitation of a handle from a subway train. The piece is attached to the wall of his studio by means of two elegant wooden pegs loosely resting in two drilled holes. (You can\u0026rsquo;t see this normally, I saw it only because I removed the sculpture from the wall.) The contrast between the stylized pre-Attic object and the refined, though nonchalant, way of attaching it to the wall tells us more about the status of the object. We have to take it seriously, because it doesn\u0026rsquo;t do so itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eMilius shows me photographs of sculptures he recently made. \u0026lsquo;Mindscape 2\u0026rsquo; is a rectangular wooden volume of 4,5 meters long, resting on small wheels, so it can be easily pushed aside. He didn\u0026rsquo;t intend it to be used as a bench, but it is. \u0026ldquo;For me it\u0026rsquo;s a 3D painting,\u0026rdquo; he tells me, \u0026ldquo;leading the life of a parasite or a tumor. It doesn\u0026rsquo;t look too much like art. It\u0026rsquo;s not supposed to look like something, it just has to occupy a lot of space. The surface is painted. I used to paint graffiti, so I attach a lot of importance to the way I use spray cans or acrylic paint. The potato painting we saw earlier was \u0026ldquo;clouded\u0026rdquo;: that\u0026rsquo;s what I call a semi-transparent way of covering a surface. If you use low-pigmented paint you can create transparent layers. And if you use certain caps, you can paint without revealing the gesture. You cannot paint elegantly with a spray can without making kitsch or cartoon-like paintings. I tried to finish the potato painting in a messy way, but without it becoming something that a child could have done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eIn Milius\u0026rsquo; oeuvre we meet objects that want to subtract themselves from reality: sculptures that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be sculptures, paintings that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be paintings and songs that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be songs. At the same time, his paintings have the most intricate surface, his sculptures are well made and his songs move us. Milius\u0026rsquo;s trade is to remove obstacles or to create obstacles that remove themselves. He cleaves through Paris as a hot knife through butter, he knows the maze, he knows the slopes (he used to be a skater), he knows where to hide. In his dreams, I imagine, the police are following him, but they cannot imagine how he gets from one place to another. In my dreams, I climb trees and houses.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eActually, Milius told me about a recurrent dream in which he tries to explain to a friend that he knows racism is determined by the patterns we use to screen the world. Who you are is determined by the way you grew up, not by your colour, of course. But the way we see the world is also determined by the way we grew up. Sometimes, therefore, we might wish to be invisible, never to have grown up and never to have existed, just to be able to fit.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, 22 August 2015\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"nl","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eDissolving Obstacles\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eSome words about meeting Gijs Milius \u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nGijs Milius (\u0026deg;1985) invites me for a stroll through a little park that\u0026rsquo;s hidden between the towers in the North Quarter of Brussels. It\u0026rsquo;s used by people of all ages. The weather is nice, the park visitors are happy and friendly. However, what makes this place special for Milius are the yellow-painted monumental concrete remnants of an unidentifiable construction, and the unusual grass covered hills behind which the adjacent office buildings arise. It\u0026rsquo;s as if we were standing on a papier-m\u0026acirc;ch\u0026eacute; model. Not because the towers seem big, but because they seem small. Everything seems to fit. We walk through a beautiful, dense, three-dimensional collage, feeling free and uplifted. As we sit down, watching ten year olds ride their bikes through a fountain, Milius tells me a joke about two men who think they recognize each other from across the river Seine in Paris. In the end, when they meet on a bridge, they both prove to be wrong. The development of this joke involves an elaborate description of the men\u0026rsquo;s walk through Paris, which I fully relate to because I left Paris only a few days ago. Milius however, doesn\u0026rsquo;t know this. He just enjoys taking me through a spatial narrative. Why this detailed precision? It\u0026rsquo;s clear that both heroes direct themselves to the historic center of the city, but in vain. One walks South, coming from the eighteenth district (Montmartre), the other walks North, coming from the Quartier Latin. It\u0026rsquo;s like a reversed story by Kafka, where the heroes try to leave the city, secretly impeded by the never mentioned hills around Prague. I found out later that Milius lived in Paris for several years. Not in the historical center, of course, but in a hideous suburb. The heroes of his joke seem to do better, until they prove to be someone else.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eThe visit to the park and the consequent unfolding of the joke remain with me as I\u0026rsquo;m looking at a painted sculpture in the exhibition space of B.A.D. Entering the room, we are confronted with a vertically erected painted wooden surface occupying almost a complete section of the room, nearly touching the ceiling and both walls. The outlines of the surface form a potato shaped silhouette, slightly reminding us of a peanut shell. Then again, on closer inspection the shape might rather be defined as \u0026lsquo;trying to look like a potato shaped silhouette\u0026rsquo; because the borders seem to be indecisive. The same impression holds when we look at the painted surface, which looks like a faint imitation of a Richter-like deviation from a \u0026lsquo;Nymph\u0026eacute;a\u0026rsquo; by Monet. This overall effect is broken by three or four sprayed stripes suggesting volume or movement. We can also walk around the sculpture and appreciate the wooden construction supporting it, including an old shoe serving as a wedge. As such, the sculpture-painting reminds us of a theatre prop. Indeed, not so long ago Milius created a theatre prop with a cut out wooden shape painted to look like a bulging nose. In this new painting, however, no depth is suggested, except by the sprayed on lines. \u0026ldquo;I used a bad spray paint,\u0026rdquo; the artist tells me, \u0026ldquo;that\u0026rsquo;s why the chrome doesn\u0026rsquo;t really cover the surface\u0026rdquo;. This remark reminds me of Pierre Bismuth explaining to me paintings by Sterling Ruby. \u0026ldquo;They seemed to be sprayed from too far away,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;so that the paint seemed to have barely reached the canvas\u0026rdquo;. Milius tells me that Sterling Ruby\u0026rsquo;s work is always on his mind. I don\u0026rsquo;t tell him I discovered recently that Ruby\u0026rsquo;s mother was Dutch, which might partly account for Milius\u0026rsquo; fascination (he is Dutch as well), because I start feeling what his work must be about, and I\u0026rsquo;m excited. I don\u0026rsquo;t want to bring his work back to my world, I would like to be able to start drifting with it, away from the center of Paris, back to the suburbs, where our worlds meet in another way (Poverty, be it stringent or \u0026lsquo;decent\u0026rsquo;, as the Dutch writer Gerard Reve coined it, tells you things that the rich will never know.) and back to the future: to new ways of seeing and showing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eMilius, who grew up in the Dutch city of Utrecht, tells me about the shopping mall called Hoog Catharijne. He doesn\u0026rsquo;t know that my favourite aunt lives nearby, and that I visited this mall before he was even born. In a tunnel under this mall, he tells me, used to live drug addicts in abodes made out of cardboard boxes. He loved this place, which was called \u0026ldquo;cardboard city\u0026rdquo;. He is also very fond of the progress-minded seventies architecture, which today is replaced by nostalgic interventions. Let\u0026rsquo;s open up the sewers again, for they used to be such picturesque brooks!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eWe leaf through his magnificent drawings. Recently he organized an exhibition of drawings made by other artists. It seemed inappropriate to show his own drawings as well, he tells me. His stories reveal him as an empathic and astute observer of the artwork made by his friends. He generously, but minutely shares his impressions about works by Nicolas Bourthoumieux, Douglas Eynon, Bram Boomgaardt, Gauthier Oushoorn, Angel Vergara and many others.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eI look at three painted pieces of wood put together to form a clumsy imitation of a handle from a subway train. The piece is attached to the wall of his studio by means of two elegant wooden pegs loosely resting in two drilled holes. (You can\u0026rsquo;t see this normally, I saw it only because I removed the sculpture from the wall.) The contrast between the stylized pre-Attic object and the refined, though nonchalant, way of attaching it to the wall tells us more about the status of the object. We have to take it seriously, because it doesn\u0026rsquo;t do so itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eMilius shows me photographs of sculptures he recently made. \u0026lsquo;Mindscape 2\u0026rsquo; is a rectangular wooden volume of 4,5 meters long, resting on small wheels, so it can be easily pushed aside. He didn\u0026rsquo;t intend it to be used as a bench, but it is. \u0026ldquo;For me it\u0026rsquo;s a 3D painting,\u0026rdquo; he tells me, \u0026ldquo;leading the life of a parasite or a tumor. It doesn\u0026rsquo;t look too much like art. It\u0026rsquo;s not supposed to look like something, it just has to occupy a lot of space. The surface is painted. I used to paint graffiti, so I attach a lot of importance to the way I use spray cans or acrylic paint. The potato painting we saw earlier was \u0026ldquo;clouded\u0026rdquo;: that\u0026rsquo;s what I call a semi-transparent way of covering a surface. If you use low-pigmented paint you can create transparent layers. And if you use certain caps, you can paint without revealing the gesture. You cannot paint elegantly with a spray can without making kitsch or cartoon-like paintings. I tried to finish the potato painting in a messy way, but without it becoming something that a child could have done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eIn Milius\u0026rsquo; oeuvre we meet objects that want to subtract themselves from reality: sculptures that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be sculptures, paintings that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be paintings and songs that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be songs. At the same time, his paintings have the most intricate surface, his sculptures are well made and his songs move us. Milius\u0026rsquo;s trade is to remove obstacles or to create obstacles that remove themselves. He cleaves through Paris as a hot knife through butter, he knows the maze, he knows the slopes (he used to be a skater), he knows where to hide. In his dreams, I imagine, the police are following him, but they cannot imagine how he gets from one place to another. In my dreams, I climb trees and houses.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eActually, Milius told me about a recurrent dream in which he tries to explain to a friend that he knows racism is determined by the patterns we use to screen the world. Who you are is determined by the way you grew up, not by your colour, of course. But the way we see the world is also determined by the way we grew up. Sometimes, therefore, we might wish to be invisible, never to have grown up and never to have existed, just to be able to fit.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, 22 August 2015\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"fr","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eDes obstacles qui se dissolvent\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eQuelques mots sur une rencontre avec Gijs Milius\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eGijs Milius (\u0026deg;1985) m\u0026rsquo;invite pour une promenade dans un petit parc cach\u0026eacute; au milieu des tours du quartier nord de Bruxelles. Il y a l\u0026agrave; des gens de tous \u0026acirc;ges. Il fait beau, les usagers du parc sont heureux et amicaux. Ce qui fait le charme de cet endroit, pour Milius, ce sont ces pans de murs de b\u0026eacute;ton peints en jaune, restes d\u0026rsquo;une construction inidentifiable, et ces \u0026eacute;tranges collines recouvertes de gazon entre lesquelles se d\u0026eacute;coupent les immeubles de bureaux voisins. C\u0026rsquo;est comme si on \u0026eacute;tait entour\u0026eacute; d\u0026rsquo;une maquette en papier m\u0026acirc;ch\u0026eacute;. Pas parce que les tours semblent immenses mais parce qu\u0026rsquo;elles semblent au contraire petites. Tout est harmonieux. Nous marchons dans un beau collage en trois dimensions, libres et exalt\u0026eacute;s. Alors qu\u0026rsquo;on s\u0026rsquo;assoit, en regardant des gamins faire du v\u0026eacute;lo autour d\u0026rsquo;une fontaine, Milius me raconte une blague\u0026nbsp;: deux hommes croient se reconna\u0026icirc;tre d\u0026rsquo;une rive \u0026agrave; l\u0026rsquo;autre de la Seine, \u0026agrave; Paris. Ils s\u0026rsquo;approchent mutuellement jusqu\u0026rsquo;\u0026agrave; ce qu\u0026rsquo;ils se rencontrent sur le pont qui enjambe le fleuve. Alors ils se rendent compte qu\u0026rsquo;ils se sont tromp\u0026eacute;s\u0026nbsp;: ils ne se connaissent pas. Le d\u0026eacute;veloppement de l\u0026rsquo;histoire passe par une description pr\u0026eacute;cise des d\u0026eacute;placements des deux hommes dans Paris, que je visualise clairement car j\u0026rsquo;y \u0026eacute;tais il y a quelques jours. Milius ne sait pas cela, mais il appr\u0026eacute;cie de me guider dans le d\u0026eacute;cor de son r\u0026eacute;cit. Pourquoi cette scrupuleuse description\u0026nbsp;? Il est clair que les deux h\u0026eacute;ros se rendent vers le centre historique de la ville. L\u0026rsquo;un marche vers le sud, venant du 18\u003csup\u003e\u0026egrave;me\u003c/sup\u003e arrondissement (Montmartre), l\u0026rsquo;autre vers le nord, venant du quartier latin. C\u0026rsquo;est comme dans l\u0026rsquo;histoire de Kafka o\u0026ugrave; les h\u0026eacute;ros essayent de quitter la ville mais sont myst\u0026eacute;rieusement ralentis par quelque chose. On comprend qu\u0026rsquo;il s\u0026rsquo;agit des montagnes qui entourent Prague, bien que l\u0026rsquo;auteur n\u0026rsquo;en parle jamais. Il s\u0026rsquo;av\u0026egrave;re que Milius a v\u0026eacute;cu en banlieue parisienne pendant plusieurs ann\u0026eacute;es.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eEn regardant une sculpture peinte dans l\u0026rsquo;espace d\u0026rsquo;exposition du B.A.D, je me rem\u0026eacute;more la visite au parc et le d\u0026eacute;roulement de la blague. En entrant dans la salle on est face \u0026agrave; un grand panneau de bois vertical qui occupe presque toute la pi\u0026egrave;ce, du sol au plafond et d\u0026rsquo;un mur \u0026agrave; l\u0026rsquo;autre. Ses contours sont d\u0026eacute;coup\u0026eacute;s en forme de patate\u0026hellip; ou de cacahou\u0026egrave;te. En regardant de plus pr\u0026egrave;s je me dis qu\u0026rsquo;il serait plus juste de dire que la forme \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;essaye de ressembler \u0026agrave; une patate\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo; car les d\u0026eacute;coupes sont tr\u0026egrave;s grossi\u0026egrave;res et ind\u0026eacute;cises. J\u0026rsquo;ai la m\u0026ecirc;me impression en regardant la surface peinte, qui pourrait ressembler \u0026agrave; une imitation par Richter des \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;Nymph\u0026eacute;as\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo; de Monet. L\u0026rsquo;effet \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;all over\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo; est toutefois d\u0026eacute;tourn\u0026eacute; par trois ou quatre lignes peintes \u0026agrave; la bombe qui semblent sugg\u0026eacute;rer un volume ou un mouvement. On peut contourner le panneau, malgr\u0026eacute; sa taille impressionnante. Derri\u0026egrave;re, l\u0026rsquo;assemblage tient avec des jambes de force, comme pour des d\u0026eacute;cors de th\u0026eacute;\u0026acirc;tre. L\u0026rsquo;une d\u0026rsquo;entre elles est cal\u0026eacute;e par une chaussure. Il y a peu de temps Milius a construit un panneau semblable pour une pi\u0026egrave;ce de th\u0026eacute;\u0026acirc;tre\u0026nbsp;: un gros nez rouge d\u0026eacute;coup\u0026eacute;. Dans cette nouvelle peinture il n\u0026rsquo;y a pas d\u0026rsquo;illusion de profondeur, \u0026agrave; part celle cr\u0026eacute;\u0026eacute;e par les quelques lignes.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;J\u0026rsquo;ai utilis\u0026eacute; une mauvaise bombe\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;, me dit l\u0026rsquo;artiste, \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;c\u0026rsquo;est pour \u0026ccedil;a que le chrome ne couvre pas vraiment la surface\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nCette remarque me rappelle Pierre Bismuth qui me parlait de certaines peintures au spray de Sterling Ruby. \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;On dirait qu\u0026rsquo;elles sont peintes de trop loin\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;, me disait-il, \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;comme si la peinture avait \u0026agrave; peine atteint la surface de la toile\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;. Milius me dit penser souvent au travail de Sterling Ruby. Je ne lui dis pas que j\u0026rsquo;ai r\u0026eacute;cemment d\u0026eacute;couvert que la m\u0026egrave;re de Ruby est hollandaise, ce qui ajouterait \u0026agrave; sa fascination (il est lui-m\u0026ecirc;me hollandais), car je commence, avec joie, \u0026agrave; percevoir ce dont parle le travail. Je ne veux pas ramener son travail dans mon univers, je pr\u0026eacute;f\u0026egrave;re essayer de le suivre, loin du centre de Paris, vers la banlieue, l\u0026agrave; o\u0026ugrave; nos univers respectifs ont plus de chances de se croiser, (La pauvret\u0026eacute;, f\u0026ucirc;t-elle \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;d\u0026eacute;cente\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;, comme le dit l\u0026rsquo;\u0026eacute;crivain hollandais Gerard Reve, nous montre des choses que les riches ne pourront jamais voir) et vers de nouvelles possibilit\u0026eacute;s de voir et de montrer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eMilius a grandi \u0026agrave; Utrecht. Il me parle du centre commercial Hoog Catharijne. Il ne sait pas que ma tante pr\u0026eacute;f\u0026eacute;r\u0026eacute;e habite juste \u0026agrave; c\u0026ocirc;t\u0026eacute; et que je connaissais cet endroit avant m\u0026ecirc;me qu\u0026rsquo;il soit n\u0026eacute;. Il y a un tunnel sous ce centre, me dit-il, o\u0026ugrave; des junkies vivaient dans des constructions de carton. Il aime cet endroit que les gens appelaient \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;la ville de carton\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;. Il aime aussi l\u0026rsquo;architecture progressiste des ann\u0026eacute;es 70, qui aujourd\u0026rsquo;hui, a laiss\u0026eacute; la place \u0026agrave; des interventions nostalgiques.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eNous regardons ses merveilleux dessins. Il a r\u0026eacute;cemment organis\u0026eacute; une exposition de dessins. Pas des siens, il trouvait \u0026ccedil;a d\u0026eacute;plac\u0026eacute; de montrer ses propres dessins dans une exposition dont il \u0026eacute;tait le commissaire. Ce qu\u0026rsquo;il me raconte le d\u0026eacute;peint comme un personnage emphatique et comme un observateur avis\u0026eacute; du travail des ses amis. Il me parle, avec un regard bienveillant, du travail de Nicolas Bourthoumieux, Douglas Eynon, Bram Boomgaardt, Gauthier Oushoorn, Angel Vergara et beaucoup d\u0026rsquo;autres.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eSur un mur de l\u0026rsquo;atelier il me montre une sculpture en bois peint\u0026nbsp;: trois pi\u0026egrave;ces de bois sont assembl\u0026eacute;es pour former une sorte d\u0026rsquo;imitation grossi\u0026egrave;re d\u0026rsquo;une barre de soutien comme celles qu\u0026rsquo;on peut voir dans le m\u0026eacute;tro. La pi\u0026egrave;ce est fix\u0026eacute;e au mur par deux chevilles fich\u0026eacute;es dans le pl\u0026acirc;tre. (On n\u0026rsquo;est pas cens\u0026eacute; voir \u0026ccedil;a normalement, mais j\u0026rsquo;ai regard\u0026eacute; \u0026ccedil;a de tout pr\u0026egrave;s en bougeant l\u0026rsquo;objet.) L\u0026rsquo;opposition entre la fonction de l\u0026rsquo;objet et la mani\u0026egrave;re dont il est fix\u0026eacute; dans le mur en dit long sur son statut. Il faut le consid\u0026eacute;rer avec beaucoup de s\u0026eacute;rieux car lui-m\u0026ecirc;me ne le fait pas.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eMilius me montre ensuite des images d\u0026rsquo;une sculpture qu\u0026rsquo;il a produite r\u0026eacute;cemment. \u003cem\u003eMindscape 2\u003c/em\u003e est un volume rectangulaire, en bois peint, de 4,5 m\u0026egrave;tres de long, pos\u0026eacute; sur des roulettes, \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;de mani\u0026egrave;re \u0026agrave; \u0026ecirc;tre facilement pouss\u0026eacute; sur le c\u0026ocirc;t\u0026eacute;\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;. \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;Il n\u0026rsquo;\u0026eacute;tait pas sens\u0026eacute; \u0026ecirc;tre utilis\u0026eacute; comme un banc mais en fait il l\u0026rsquo;a \u0026eacute;t\u0026eacute;\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;. \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;Pour moi c\u0026rsquo;est une peinture en 3D qui se comporte comme un parasite ou une tumeur. \u0026Ccedil;a ne ressemble pas vraiment \u0026agrave; de l\u0026rsquo;art et ce n\u0026rsquo;est d\u0026rsquo;ailleurs pas suppos\u0026eacute; ressembler \u0026agrave; quoi que ce soit. \u0026Ccedil;a doit juste prendre beaucoup de place. La surface est peinte \u0026agrave; la bombe. J\u0026rsquo;ai fait \u0026eacute;norm\u0026eacute;ment de graffitis, dans le pass\u0026eacute;, et j\u0026rsquo;attache une grande importance \u0026agrave; la mani\u0026egrave;re de se servir d\u0026rsquo;une bombe de peinture. La \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;patate\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo; qu\u0026rsquo;on a vue tout \u0026agrave; l\u0026rsquo;heure est \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;clouded\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;\u0026nbsp;: c\u0026rsquo;est-\u0026agrave;-dire que la peinture ne couvre pas tout \u0026agrave; fait la surface, elle est semi-transparente. Si tu utilises des bombes avec peu de pigments tu peux arriver \u0026agrave; peindre des couches en semi-transparence. Et selon le type d\u0026rsquo;embouts que tu mets sur la bombe tu peux faire dispara\u0026icirc;tre le geste au profit d\u0026rsquo;un \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;nuage\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;. J\u0026rsquo;ai essay\u0026eacute; d\u0026rsquo;achever la \u0026laquo;\u0026nbsp;patate\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo; en peignant un peu n\u0026rsquo;importe comment, mais en faisant en sorte qu\u0026rsquo;elle n\u0026rsquo;ait pas l\u0026rsquo;air d\u0026rsquo;avoir \u0026eacute;t\u0026eacute; peinte par un enfant.\u0026nbsp;\u0026raquo;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eDans le travail de Milius on trouve des objets qui veulent se soustraire \u0026agrave; la r\u0026eacute;alit\u0026eacute;\u0026nbsp;: des sculptures qui ne veulent pas \u0026ecirc;tre des sculptures, des peintures qui ne veulent pas \u0026ecirc;tre des peintures et des chansons qui ne veulent pas \u0026ecirc;tre des chansons. Pourtant ses peintures sont tr\u0026egrave;s construites, ses sculptures sont faites avec dext\u0026eacute;rit\u0026eacute; et ses chansons sont touchantes. Je pense qu\u0026rsquo;un des buts de Milius est de d\u0026eacute;placer les obstacles ou de cr\u0026eacute;er des obstacles qui se d\u0026eacute;placent tout seuls. Il est \u0026agrave; Paris comme un poisson dans l\u0026rsquo;eau, il conna\u0026icirc;t le labyrinthe, il conna\u0026icirc;t les rampes et les trottoirs (il \u0026eacute;tait skater), il sait o\u0026ugrave; se cacher. J\u0026rsquo;imagine que dans ses r\u0026ecirc;ves il est poursuivi par la police mais qu\u0026rsquo;il se fond dans le d\u0026eacute;cor comme par magie\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eIl me parle d\u0026rsquo;un r\u0026ecirc;ve r\u0026eacute;current dans lequel il essaye d\u0026rsquo;expliquer \u0026agrave; un ami que le racisme est d\u0026eacute;termin\u0026eacute; par la mani\u0026egrave;re dont on regarde le monde. La mani\u0026egrave;re dont nous grandissons d\u0026eacute;termine qui nous sommes, pas notre couleur, bien s\u0026ucirc;r. Mais notre pass\u0026eacute; d\u0026eacute;termine aussi notre mani\u0026egrave;re d\u0026rsquo;\u0026ecirc;tre au monde. Du coup nous r\u0026ecirc;vons parfois d\u0026rsquo;\u0026ecirc;tre invisible, de n\u0026rsquo;avoir jamais grandi, de n\u0026rsquo;avoir jamais exist\u0026eacute;, pour trouver notre juste place.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, 22 ao\u0026ucirc;t 2015\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"ru","short_description":"","description":""},{"locale":"de","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eDissolving Obstacles\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eSome words about meeting Gijs Milius \u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nGijs Milius (\u0026deg;1985) invites me for a stroll through a little park that\u0026rsquo;s hidden between the towers in the North Quarter of Brussels. It\u0026rsquo;s used by people of all ages. The weather is nice, the park visitors are happy and friendly. However, what makes this place special for Milius are the yellow-painted monumental concrete remnants of an unidentifiable construction, and the unusual grass covered hills behind which the adjacent office buildings arise. It\u0026rsquo;s as if we were standing on a papier-m\u0026acirc;ch\u0026eacute; model. Not because the towers seem big, but because they seem small. Everything seems to fit. We walk through a beautiful, dense, three-dimensional collage, feeling free and uplifted. As we sit down, watching ten year olds ride their bikes through a fountain, Milius tells me a joke about two men who think they recognize each other from across the river Seine in Paris. In the end, when they meet on a bridge, they both prove to be wrong. The development of this joke involves an elaborate description of the men\u0026rsquo;s walk through Paris, which I fully relate to because I left Paris only a few days ago. Milius however, doesn\u0026rsquo;t know this. He just enjoys taking me through a spatial narrative. Why this detailed precision? It\u0026rsquo;s clear that both heroes direct themselves to the historic center of the city, but in vain. One walks South, coming from the eighteenth district (Montmartre), the other walks North, coming from the Quartier Latin. It\u0026rsquo;s like a reversed story by Kafka, where the heroes try to leave the city, secretly impeded by the never mentioned hills around Prague. I found out later that Milius lived in Paris for several years. Not in the historical center, of course, but in a hideous suburb. The heroes of his joke seem to do better, until they prove to be someone else.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eThe visit to the park and the consequent unfolding of the joke remain with me as I\u0026rsquo;m looking at a painted sculpture in the exhibition space of B.A.D. Entering the room, we are confronted with a vertically erected painted wooden surface occupying almost a complete section of the room, nearly touching the ceiling and both walls. The outlines of the surface form a potato shaped silhouette, slightly reminding us of a peanut shell. Then again, on closer inspection the shape might rather be defined as \u0026lsquo;trying to look like a potato shaped silhouette\u0026rsquo; because the borders seem to be indecisive. The same impression holds when we look at the painted surface, which looks like a faint imitation of a Richter-like deviation from a \u0026lsquo;Nymph\u0026eacute;a\u0026rsquo; by Monet. This overall effect is broken by three or four sprayed stripes suggesting volume or movement. We can also walk around the sculpture and appreciate the wooden construction supporting it, including an old shoe serving as a wedge. As such, the sculpture-painting reminds us of a theatre prop. Indeed, not so long ago Milius created a theatre prop with a cut out wooden shape painted to look like a bulging nose. In this new painting, however, no depth is suggested, except by the sprayed on lines. \u0026ldquo;I used a bad spray paint,\u0026rdquo; the artist tells me, \u0026ldquo;that\u0026rsquo;s why the chrome doesn\u0026rsquo;t really cover the surface\u0026rdquo;. This remark reminds me of Pierre Bismuth explaining to me paintings by Sterling Ruby. \u0026ldquo;They seemed to be sprayed from too far away,\u0026rdquo; he said, \u0026ldquo;so that the paint seemed to have barely reached the canvas\u0026rdquo;. Milius tells me that Sterling Ruby\u0026rsquo;s work is always on his mind. I don\u0026rsquo;t tell him I discovered recently that Ruby\u0026rsquo;s mother was Dutch, which might partly account for Milius\u0026rsquo; fascination (he is Dutch as well), because I start feeling what his work must be about, and I\u0026rsquo;m excited. I don\u0026rsquo;t want to bring his work back to my world, I would like to be able to start drifting with it, away from the center of Paris, back to the suburbs, where our worlds meet in another way (Poverty, be it stringent or \u0026lsquo;decent\u0026rsquo;, as the Dutch writer Gerard Reve coined it, tells you things that the rich will never know.) and back to the future: to new ways of seeing and showing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eMilius, who grew up in the Dutch city of Utrecht, tells me about the shopping mall called Hoog Catharijne. He doesn\u0026rsquo;t know that my favourite aunt lives nearby, and that I visited this mall before he was even born. In a tunnel under this mall, he tells me, used to live drug addicts in abodes made out of cardboard boxes. He loved this place, which was called \u0026ldquo;cardboard city\u0026rdquo;. He is also very fond of the progress-minded seventies architecture, which today is replaced by nostalgic interventions. Let\u0026rsquo;s open up the sewers again, for they used to be such picturesque brooks!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eWe leaf through his magnificent drawings. Recently he organized an exhibition of drawings made by other artists. It seemed inappropriate to show his own drawings as well, he tells me. His stories reveal him as an empathic and astute observer of the artwork made by his friends. He generously, but minutely shares his impressions about works by Nicolas Bourthoumieux, Douglas Eynon, Bram Boomgaardt, Gauthier Oushoorn, Angel Vergara and many others.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eI look at three painted pieces of wood put together to form a clumsy imitation of a handle from a subway train. The piece is attached to the wall of his studio by means of two elegant wooden pegs loosely resting in two drilled holes. (You can\u0026rsquo;t see this normally, I saw it only because I removed the sculpture from the wall.) The contrast between the stylized pre-Attic object and the refined, though nonchalant, way of attaching it to the wall tells us more about the status of the object. We have to take it seriously, because it doesn\u0026rsquo;t do so itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eMilius shows me photographs of sculptures he recently made. \u0026lsquo;Mindscape 2\u0026rsquo; is a rectangular wooden volume of 4,5 meters long, resting on small wheels, so it can be easily pushed aside. He didn\u0026rsquo;t intend it to be used as a bench, but it is. \u0026ldquo;For me it\u0026rsquo;s a 3D painting,\u0026rdquo; he tells me, \u0026ldquo;leading the life of a parasite or a tumor. It doesn\u0026rsquo;t look too much like art. It\u0026rsquo;s not supposed to look like something, it just has to occupy a lot of space. The surface is painted. I used to paint graffiti, so I attach a lot of importance to the way I use spray cans or acrylic paint. The potato painting we saw earlier was \u0026ldquo;clouded\u0026rdquo;: that\u0026rsquo;s what I call a semi-transparent way of covering a surface. If you use low-pigmented paint you can create transparent layers. And if you use certain caps, you can paint without revealing the gesture. You cannot paint elegantly with a spray can without making kitsch or cartoon-like paintings. I tried to finish the potato painting in a messy way, but without it becoming something that a child could have done.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eIn Milius\u0026rsquo; oeuvre we meet objects that want to subtract themselves from reality: sculptures that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be sculptures, paintings that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be paintings and songs that don\u0026rsquo;t want to be songs. At the same time, his paintings have the most intricate surface, his sculptures are well made and his songs move us. Milius\u0026rsquo;s trade is to remove obstacles or to create obstacles that remove themselves. He cleaves through Paris as a hot knife through butter, he knows the maze, he knows the slopes (he used to be a skater), he knows where to hide. In his dreams, I imagine, the police are following him, but they cannot imagine how he gets from one place to another. In my dreams, I climb trees and houses.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: sans-serif,Arial,Verdana,\u0026amp;quot;trebuchet ms\u0026amp;quot;; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;\"\u003eActually, Milius told me about a recurrent dream in which he tries to explain to a friend that he knows racism is determined by the patterns we use to screen the world. Who you are is determined by the way you grew up, not by your colour, of course. But the way we see the world is also determined by the way we grew up. Sometimes, therefore, we might wish to be invisible, never to have grown up and never to have existed, just to be able to fit.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, 22 August 2015\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"es","short_description":"","description":""},{"locale":"el","short_description":"","description":""}],"actors":[]}