Sur la ligne blanche

I remember the car travels, as a child, and mainly the nocturnal roads. The white lines were hypnotizing ; beyond expectation and boredom, they were a breeding ground for imagination. Sometimes, eyes or hands slalom between the discontinuous lines ; or images and tales arise. Boredom is beneficial to daydream, and the road and its lines do their work.

I remember, much later, Agnès Varda, in one of her movies, closing her fist on trucks as the car conducting her was passing. Or Sophie Calle settling in a highway’s gate and asking drivers « Where would you take me ? ». The road is dotted with thoughts, sometimes darker and metaphorical, as Antoine d’Agata’s photographs or Alain Bashung’s songs. But it is always a call for imagination.

It is a fortuitous meeting that led me on this path : a spontaneous conversation with a violist, met by chance : talking about Benjamin Britten composing a tribute to John Dowland, but also life, music… then a lovely phone call, a few months later : « Would you write me a musical piece ? ».

The viola player is facing the instrument, like a person is facing the road at night : the black asphalt and the bright white lines delineate spaces. On this « rangy » territory, the violist drives, in a blend of control and slumber sound. 'Sur la ligne blanche' (On the white line) could be considered as a daydream cycle on the winding and quiet roads of Brittany.