To Barbara
Barbara, icon.
The artist fascinates, surprises.
Barbara takes you from the bottom of your heart and walks you through the paths of her life. Barbara, the spirit.
Barbara, the style.
Immediate attraction towards this stroke of ink in movement. Maurice Béjart used to say that Barbara was his greatest dancer.
So if this stroke talks, mine gets defined, energized by the intelligence of this woman, her elegance and infinite grace.
As a gift or a prayer, arms wide open and palms open to her audience. Barbara sings.
Her voice whispers then propels, flows far like a bottle at sea. A call.
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Facing Barbara like a living art piece, the path seems traced…in black. But Barbara disrupts, so I imagine her, fantasize her, retrace her. Barbara black. Clear evidence.
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Jumpsuit in silk velvet. Asymmetrical sweater in alligator. Long tunic in embroidered patent leather. Coat-dress in lamé
jeans.
Barbara red. Like her stage lights.
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Jumpsuit with collar in padded satin. Immense jumper with a shawl collar. Bathing suite dress in chiffon with a gigantic
gazar sculpture or finally, an oversized poppy dress in satin duchess.
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Barbara on edge.
Pure white, authentic, the roots of Africa inspire me.
I scarify gazar and crepe in 3D, on sheath dresses and Masai capes.
I cover a breast with gigantic chains in jersey and tattoo to the extreme.
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Barbara, allure. Barbara, still...
