A b o u t  T h e  P r o j e c t

Exploration Of The Sins

by Etienne Tombeux


The Seven Deadly Sins

The only one of the 7 sins which is exclusively human, that of modernity, of the spirit of provocation, of the attempt on God; the creation which is pride (isn’t it?).

This one has six fingers to a single hand, as it has two sexual identities and as all shoes must fit his foot. Posing in Majesty, its image is declined in a riot of allegoric reflections of the six other sins, thus making it the epitome of the human vanities.
It has everything, it is everything.
There is only room for this one being in this entirely closed blue velvet case (Yves Klein). It is only just that a maniacal examination will allow to discover in a spherical mirror (close to that of the “Wedding of the Arnolfini” by J. Van Eyck) a non delirious reverse shot: the camera and the operators turning the photograph. But does the creative movement ever come to man in a period of humility, or in those periods of playfulness they belie to be well being, and which on the contrary only the spirit of provocation of the gods at its highest tension (Jean Giraudoux)?

Nevertheless, jauntily seated on the superb “Herztüte” of Verner Panton, on his screen the half lighted globe, is merely a mezza terra. – One can do nothing all alone.

Etienne Tombeux 2006
Translation french to english by Jan Melis

The Seven Deadly Sins

In order to decline this vice, one male glutton and three female gluttons: the nymphomaniac bourgeoise: the overeater, the hunter-drinker, the dandy-drug addict. Four stereotypes for an image of a “gently devastated” busy-home-magazine.

And, in this interior as hot as a belly, four colder openings: the night at the window, the blue and green of two backrooms, the grey snow of a television screen and the reflections of the early dawn at the “door with the wolf”.

Except for this gluttonous wolf, our friends the animals are dead, stuffed, cut up, cooked, transformed.

What can one say about the showcase wit the twelve clocks all around the dial, about a gold nugget extracted from a turd, about a hamper of oysters under a crucifix, about the dart planted in the edge of the door, of the colt in the green and five loafs on the floor at the foot of a mouldy wall?
What shall we say of the grimaces of that zealous butler, of the doe-eyes of the living Rubens exposed on the table and reflected in the oval of a mirror cut out like a stolen canvass?
- of all the stimuli thronging the painting?
Not a single drop of clear water in all this. And, in the middle, there is the knob of the stick, a small sphere.

Etienne Tombeux 2006
Translation french to english by Jan Melis

The Seven Deadly Sins

The loss of inertia of the character of Accidia is his mortal Sin. This both spiritual and physical paralysis has contaminated its environment; this cold light, this infertile lunar soil, the three quarters walled in bookcase, the proliferation of industrial waste pouring down from the ceiling or falling down in cascades, the intricate network of evacuation-feeding scoring the room in all directions, all this emanates from him through his data-glove and his sphincters. Under his feet, the spheres become cubic.
To share his universe with the rat, the spider and the bat, five little proletarian clones recycled from Metropolis, from a peplum or from the Grand-Guignol repertoire make the machine go round, keep the house and allow themselves a small refreshing nap, a little grand music (Rigoletto or Schönberg?) under a proof, pinned to the wall, of an as yet unknown English photographer, and even a surprised look at the camera. Behind the grimy window and beyond the bars someone (Breughel) has lit a fire in the night. How cold the water must be on the shelf in that half full…and empty jar.

Etienne Tombeux 2006
Translation french to english by Jan Melis

The Seven Deadly Sins

with: THE TIGER LILLIES Martyn Jacques, Adrian Stout, Adrian Huge
and: Haymon Maria Buttinger, Martina Theresia Stilp and a lot of others

Collective Wrath.
Exterior day.
We are outside a surrounding wall of the House transformed into a fortress.
The windows are boarded, the portal where a standard flows is a check point barricaded with sandbags; nearby lies a carbonized body at the feet of the carcass of a burnt down vehicle, imbedded in the blackened wall. In front of the besieged house, up to the river and the skirt of the small wood, the earth has been burnt ; there still are , here and there, small fires smoking and a stack of books has been committed to the flames.

The characters of London cult-band THE TIGER LILLIES are performing a kind of slap-stick battle inbetween single humans - the cause of collectiv wrath – the central scene in our image: A networking fake golf playing so called businessman and a moyen age woman out of boschs painting are going to kick ass while the contemporary medusa is mocking them and the whole scene.

Further to the left, two guys are torturing a third one using electricity, whereas, behind the scene, strange fruits in orange overalls are hanging from the branches of a tree of the beautiful wood. Pursuing our survey towards the left, we observe in the plane a tank (and a decapitate elephant head out of Babylon) and – under different colours – a troop of soldiers before which an adolescent girl flees, arms dangling, naked, the body burnt by napalm. To the right of this offensive, in the background, near the tent of a field hospital, its bloody wounded on their stretchers, the medical staff in green outfits and nurses in bloody white. And closer to us, on the level of the fleeing young girl, a bomb crater from which a mutilated body of a child emerges, maybe an execution nearby .

On the side of this the well-dressed-prada-sexy-TV-lady, microphone in hand, entertaning the TV-consumer, who of course is going to be the spectator of our image.

Another television team is filming somewhere in the back – the medias have to produce quotes. Behind them, we can see, amidst the poplar trees, a group of refugees, women, children and old people, their faces protected by gas masks, dragging their belongings. They are on the way to the small bridge far away where silhouettes are waiting for them.
On the other side of the road, on a rougher ground, other soldiers – different uniforms and different colours – are laying in ambush.
And here comes the wall again – over which we see, in the background, the summit of a burning silo and an executed angel. - Wrath arround – anybody noticed?

Hüller / Tombeux 2006
Translation french to english by Jan Melis


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