I needed a pretext to materialize my absolute passion for curves. My orgasmic pleasure to trace a perfect volute with a stroke of a pencil. I had to find the most rigid and 'phallic' monument, and make it an ode to the curve, the luxuriance.

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It was before my eyes ... French ... The Eiffel Tower is anchored in us as the navel sits at the center of our anatomy.

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A frenzy of art deco reminiscences, a bit of noodle style, an evanescence of vegetations stamped with Chinese prints - plum - bamboo - cherry - perhaps to discern one day the volute of the fall of a woman hip. Everything is possible when the brain no longer dictates the hand and this work was a destructuration that delighted me.

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My 'Root Tower' starts from much deeper than us and is sure to grow forever, always, now that it is vegetalized.. Like a metronome that has stopped, time no longer has a hold on it. Only the pleasure of watching it will make it live forever.

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Pieces of raw steel, oxidized, sanded and assembled at a distance from each other to form a sculpture in volume, in high relief, hanging a few inches from the wall with a simple hook.