First movement: rue Saint-André-des-Arts
Rue Saint-André-des-Arts. I ring at the street door. "Hello, it's Broutin!" The door opens. I step into the entryway. The second door opens, leading to the narrow stairs. I go up to the second floor. The apartment door opens revealing Isou wearing a wool bonnet in all seasons. We exchange the usual greetings. I enter the small space. To the left a minuscule room: bathroom/kitchen/studio. A sink, a bathtub—which is used for drying canvases when he is painting—a toilet. On the right two small rooms in a row. The whole place is about twenty square meters. The first room has bookshelves that hold his manuscripts, books, and works in progress. The second one is where we meet. A bed back on the right side, a little table in front of a window that looks out on the courtyard, a wooden chair. On the left a wardrobe where he hangs his clothing. On the table lies the work he is currently doing. A school notebook whose pages he tears out as he finishes writing them. All that on top of a piece of blue carpet torn off the bedroom flooring. If we don't have much to talk about, he stays seated on the chair and I stand by the window. The heat is suffocating: 80ºF all winter. If we need to talk longer about our common projects, he goes to sit on the bed, I turn the chair toward him and take my turn sitting in it. Once a month we leave the apartment together and go to a restaurant.
Lettrist corporal art work (sculpture in three movements). Broutin 2016
Traduction : David Seaman