The mask is like the Sphinx, a woman's head on a cat's body. The head does not belong to the body, it does not correspond to it, and it is obvious. The mask is a conduit between the one who asks and the one who answers, whether they are in front of it or behind it. The mask is the boundary that separates and at the same time connects humans with the gods. Eros and Thanatos, together. The mask allows one to be other, eternal and unchanging, immortal. Free at last. They tell of what one would like to be but also of what one fears. Sometimes they are like an exorcism, incorporating parts of the world into them, as symbols and as matter. Bones, woods, stones, earth, rags, precious stones, leaves but also colors, of blood or nature. They are like footprints, of the soul, our own or of those whose lives we loved and whose lives we want to continue. They always have voids, holes, to be in touch with what is outside, beyond. To look, to listen, to smell, in a flow from outside to inside and vice versa. They are masks floating on colored bottoms, moved like sea surfaces stirred by emotions, feelings, the perception of what we do not know.