Mon premier cercle
Paintings by Anouk Grinberg
In the anouk’s drawings — I don’t resort to “the” to deify an actress as the French do, when she so wittingly effaces herself, overshadowed by the animals she draws; I omit her name’s majuscule, so that she may better be seen as one of them; I write the anouk as one would say the bear, the bird — we come back to our senses, as beasts spring from frames, that were never enclosures. For we cannot picture their borders, since we abandon the bounds separating humans and animals. The anouk sees, traces, draws, paints, starting with her own species; then on to all the living. In her gaze, or that of a goat or a dog, one reads the melancholy or the bewilderment, often a combination of the two. I couldn’t find another way to view this world and these times, if I tried.