TEXTS ON ART : Image number img133.
From page 161 to page 200.

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pregnant of a viable condition of women
When this viable condition for women is born, a
fulfilling condition will be born for the women-mother.
So what can we say while waiting about this same woman-
mother and her present condition as a creator.
Pure Art having always been marginal ‘’any way’’;
thus many among us have withdrawn to the ‘’maquis’’
more or less around the so-called year of ''1968'', having
understood that: ''Better to be a missing and living
mother that present and dead.'')


***** (We continue Cybèle’s quotation.)

... he does not even see that he is the
one that does not want anything to do with
you. He says that he wants me to explain what's wrong,
but there is nothing in particular that is
wrong, it is only that I want to talk to him
about a lot of things that I have in my head, things that
exist for me, and do not
exist for him,
he said that he wants us to talk
but he is the only one who
talks even when it's me,
it is because he wants me to think what he wants
to hear, but I also
think my own thoughts and if
I want to talk about them he uses
his strength to force me to make


believe that I do not think.
He believes that since two weeks it
is going better? It is only
because I am silent, because

PAGE 162

I am lying when I am silent in order
not be beaten because I
am not crazy ... (so soothing)
before, I do not understand this but it
lucky that you left...
because otherwise I'd be lost
today, I would have been alone,
you would have abandoned me
also if you had not left
... because you'd be dead ... ""

- All had been said in one shot.
But an act that has repeatedly been questioned
for more than ten years, an act that was in my
eyes, political, that I had made in
my youth when I did not know anything about
the laws, of ideologies, when I had
never heard the word feminism.


I that had made this act of irreversible
consequences in an era where we were
still a minor at 19, in a time
were the ignorance of my rights were not
very important because anyway
a minor woman did not have any
faced with a husband seven years her senior.
I only had in my defence,
to justify my actions, but the intuition
of a truth to discover that was stronger than anything,
a feeling that love was outside
in the open and not here, that this better world
than I dreamed so much to offer to
this girl more cherished than all when I was
carrying her, when I was looking at myself
giving her birth and saw her being born, the only
‘’work’’ in my life that I have never
doubted of, while I felt her temperament,
her assertion come
forth in the way she was sucking my breast.
But I cruelly felt even then that this
better world would not just happen alone
from now until the time that she reaches the age of
conscience if we did not boldly
work at it.


I already knew that I would not
have anything to offer as hope
when she would eventually question me about
the Sense of her own future because I
suddenly realized after a few months of marriage,
that the event so dreamed of
since my teens had slashed
My life in two, suddenly revealing to me
that in the present state of things
I did not have a becoming,
nor as a woman, nor as a
Mother, or as lover, or
as an artist. Our house was
known as the home of artists, but for
all, the rule was that there was not
Two artists here, but only one and
lack of luck it was not me.
But the other, the musician.
As a lover, lets not talk about it, one would have
had to be masochistic and love to have been
laughed at by the husband, gallery and
friends. Let us look at the romantic ideas


of a girl of 18 to 19 years old
before the ‘’liberal’’ discourse of a
handful of males of the sixties, males between 25 and
30 years old. Besides, to my knowledge

PAGE 164

it's been quite a few decades that
with the open-minded-guys
the question of romanticism and
passion has seemed to be out of style.
To have a becoming - it resembles the
word future, eh! - As a mother? at 19?
Nothing to do against mothers-in-laws,
you do not weight much in the argument.
In any case I still
breastfed her for six months and she was as chubby
as an egg. I had milk, even
when pressing the tips of my breasts two
years later I still had some. The mother-in-law
said that I had lost my mind, that
I was crazy, skinny as I am, see
if I could breastfeed a child!
Finally on the issue of having a
Becoming-future as a woman of 19 years


Years old in1967, is not for me to recount to you
your own story that is the same as
mine, eh! I did not yet know about the annual
Women’s exhibition to convince me,
but I saw the World exhibition ... Terre des Hommes
and also I saw the world around me
What!, one has eyes to see, right?
It's not a matter of education, or to be
smarter than smart, or to be of a ''very deep
maturity'' when you have a little bit of soul,
it seems to me that you think, you can feel that when
you are young even if you do not understand yet
all of the whys, and of the how’s.
In any case as for history
I soon saw, but if I could not have said it
with big words that if we did not change
our history by any means
in ten years we would just not have a history,

PAGE 165

no more my daughter than me.
Professionally? Bof, it’s the
same thing and we are in 1980, three quarters
of what I paint does not even
find a place to be exposed, but not only
what I paint in these years, full of
paintings that are more that 10 years old have
never been exposed ''freely''.


Let us understand each other, since
about 1969 I regularly get
the visit of some entrepreneur that believes
that he has suddenly been appointed by God
to revolutionize the Art market as they
say and that in covering me with promises
roses and chocolate sundaes, tries to
convince me to sign an exclusive contract
''with carte blanche!''
It would be a great hit, we would put together
a great campaign, I would have the best
lawyers to defend me, and the best
tailors, my character could be
be so sexy, with good makeup and without glasses
I have such a mysterious gaze.
My painting has so much sensationalism, etc.
etc. ...
Once I had a studio in a building
which incidentally belonged to the
Community of the Fathers of the Most Blessed Sacrament,
a journalist who had seen my works,
I cannot remember how, titles in a much read rag,
La Patrie, without my knowledge,
I believe in two inch letters


by 8 in 10 columns,
‘’Monique Jarry erotic painter at
the Fathers of the Most Blessed Sacrament.''
The next day, the community sends me
a notice to evacuate.
Five-six years later I met the
''journalist''. He exclaims, speaking of the
good old days and says to me; Yes, but we
sold a lot of copies! Till the next time!
At the time it was not as bad in reality, I
was not a victim of censorship in sum
since then, it has been an ‘’ideological’’ boycott!!!
As it was said to me last year by a so cultivated
owner of a new trend gallery while
looking at the background of one of my paintings: ''Ha!
what mastery, what sensitivity, but my god
why go put this body, there! !'' Too grotesque
lack of refinement, without taste ...
In any case the owner of a still
more famous gallery-institution of the West of the city
said to me after 3 hours of discussion about art in general
''you should maybe reorient yourself,
you certainly have an intellectual force
and thoughts well your own, but you treat in your
paintings subjects that I think have
more of a place in literature...''


I believed at that moment that the unusually
long and distinguished discussion
allowed me, respecting protocol of course,
to answer in a direct
and frank way. I charitably
informed him that painters
think too. As he seemed to be
laughing without understanding, I was more precise
''What do you want us to paint,
interiors decoration for our customers?''
I scored a hit, I am sorry that I had to

PAGE 167

insult the poor man to give him
one last chance to wake up ...

Theatre and writing in general are
certainly more advanced in Quebec

***** (In the margin)

(suggest another name for women)

that the ''fine'' art ... it seems
that all subjects who speak of Beauty
is always harmful to women, right?
Truly, beauty is very bad for the
Complexion of the soul.
Finally in any case the theme of
the mother and of personal freedom that I wanted
to take the time to further deepen,
ranges from passionate young romantic


which leaves alone without any money
travelling in the heart of the vast world
with only baggage the vision of a small
beloved daughter for whom at all cost
by any means discover
a meaning and a future to life within the next
ten years - really without my daughter, I would
never have had the courage to leave so
soon and I would have stayed there losing weight gradually
while ‘’sleeping off’’ my disappointment for a year,
five years, ten years ... who knows maybe
even twenty-seven years like my mother,
my daughter would have really profited from that
... the same profit
that the stupid sacrifice of my mother
gave me.

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The theme of mother and individual freedom
would talk about these wonderful and partial discoveries
of the sense that one gives to one's life
which gradually becomes our becoming.
This theme would speak of the stigma that surrounds
the greatest undertakings. You go to
conquer the highest, the purest of
the authentic and what are the wishes of
husbands, of the parents who say that they love you?


Dirty whore!
Unnatural mother
Female dog in heat, I'm leaving
to find something! yes we know
what itches her, she abandons her family
her HUSBAND, for a swell guy surely, yes,
we know about that... as if there
was only the looks and the Penis of
guys that can inhabit the
dreams of a young woman; one wonders
what really inhabit’s the ideals of men!
And in this long quest so upholstered, in the
heart of the crowd, so upholstered with solitude
and doubt and ghosts and ghosts ...
of silence ...
silently I felt myself sinking,
I was distancing myself still further,
especially not to be interrogated on this questioned
that constantly continued to haunt
my days and nights and to which I
dedicate myself, I still could not find
an answer sufficiently clear and strong to
justify such investments.


Move away, move away quietly

PAGE 169

away from all friends who getting
older were having more and more often
a child… in their arms.

Will I find this world a better place before
she is ten.
Why, why did I
not revolted myself earlier, a few months
earlier, why did I not refused
this marriage and run away when
she was still in my belly, ha!
To be an unmarried mother, the dream of my life!
How lucky she was my friend
Marie to love this man who was not
available! As an unmarried mother she is criticised
but her child she speaks with him and kisses him when
she wants. And anyway I am
still criticised because I
married that man and he was able to take my
child ''For a Few Dollars More''
than me and this grandfather-child-of-an-unmarried -


mother-legitimized-after-the-fact that
organized this marriage suddenly within
forty-eight hours, in the morning, ''in
the strictest privacy'', is the least that can
be said, as soon as it was done we were
abandoned to ourselves, a mother and daughter
divorcing, both minor
and hop! the little girl to the old husband and the
mother in law after five minutes of proceedings.
Thirteen years later the famous Grand
father still does not know his only granddaughter.
If being an unmarried mother would have been my dream
until at least the age of twenty-five,
I realized later on
that this dream also

PAGE 170

was perhaps not so easy,
for example the day I learned,
seeing again my friend Mary, after a few
years without seeing each other that a man who
had been pursuing her unsuccessfully
for several years incidentally learned
that for some time my friend
Mary had an intimate relationship with


a woman, started
to harass her with blackmail
now brandishing the threat that if she did not
surrender to his seductive arguments he
would make her lose custody of her son
her morals being in his point of view scandalous
and against-''nature''. Note that we
wonder what was ''natural''
in his manners of seduction, but
My friend was a nervous wreck
and was completely terrified!
Fortunately, my persistence and thinking
on the question of the rights of individual freedom
of Women-mothers I finally
found a few arguments; because simply saying to
Mary that blackmail, whatever the reason
is still illegal here would not have sufficed
to reassure her. It must have taken me at least a
month and a half in fact to make her understand
that on the question of morals nor this guy
nor anyone had a point against her;
god damn! She was not raising


her son in a
brothel. She slept with women, ok

PAGE 171

but neither the law or any other person
has the legal right to enter into
the privacy of someone and tell her
where to and where not to put her ass!
Besides it would be a form of
pornographic voyeurism and that is very ugly!

It was not a question here about Mary sleeping
with all the women in the city of Montreal
and at the same time, on the public square
dragging a poor child in
orgies and ‘’indecent’’ acts.
Damn it is simply about just a Marie in love
leading her intimate life according to her heart of
free citizen and loving mother of
her child. It's simple, clear and
serene, right?
Mary was at that time so terrorised
that luckily to induce her to believe that my vision
of the facts was defensible and logic, I
hand the advantage of never having myself ‘’known’’


women in the biblical sense of the
word ''known'', Mary could tell herself that obviously
they could not accuse me
of defending my opinion because I was a lesbian.
Sometimes we almost want to be nothing at all
imagining that we could
then speak more freely without having all
our thoughts swept away, denied the
ones after another by the everlasting:
''Of course, you say that because you are this
or that.''
In polemics I often want to scream
''No I have never been nor
a child, nor an adult, also
I am neither a man, nor a woman

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I am an ‘’eldest’’!'' ***** (Monique was the eldest of five sisters.)
Anyway, tomorrow Freud will say to me: ''You
say that because you have suffered from being a
elder since your childhood.''
What good is it to talk, that is why I paint.
Ho! It is not that I do not like to have a conversation as they say,


I love to talk and discus but as
Mouffe (?) said for ‘’the very regular guy’’

''When I sing it is for you to hear me
if I shout it is to defend myself
I really would like to be understood.''

I really would like to make myself understood
from time to time. I do not know when
we are understood, it is like
we had talked to someone, what!
So it means that I still have a lot
to reflect on and work on to testify
on this broad theme of the mother and individual
freedom in our society before
being able to perform on it with my
paintings. Currently only
my images-paintings can perform
I do not have the words yet, nor the songs
and gestures of this vast subject.

What I have just said is the
first stage of the performance: the ins -


What I did without realising it
during the first two weeks of
preparation, was the second stage

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of the theme: clearing.
The clearing of a theme is often
the creation of the embryo of the heap of future
If performance was due to take place
on this Monday, at the moment that I am
writing these lines, because we are now
Monday aren’t we, I would have presented
all these flashes-embryos that have sprung
since the two weeks that I am
exploring on the theme of the mother
of today.
Because the idea that occurred to me that night
is that my performance on May 22
want’s to talk about a creative process
on the theme that springs up in my head
based on the statement better a mother
absent and alive than present and dead.


As such, wherever I am at
in this creative process on this
theme, and my painting, that is what
I will present May 22 Art does not conclude,
Art does not make finished statements
the only possible conclusion of a work
intervenes with the silence of
the voice of the artist that is
speaking, that is to say with his death and
yet this conclusion only lasts for a
moment, because instantly rises the
interior and creative voice of the other,
this other who takes the work into
his account seeing it with his
one and personal eye and recreates it
again as much as its first
author had previously done, that other who
is the public. I have what I

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see and take. You possess what you
see and take. It is the law of love and
art. You own what you take because
it is yourself.


I would make a professional
mistake, almost a forgery
if I intended to on this May 22
to testify about anything other than the
creation by Monique Jarry since it is
for this reason that I will come.
And even if we had
in creation to transform are true discourse
''for the sake of argument''
in what discipline then could
we present ourselves as we are?
I can present my paintings
and talk about what they represent,
describe them and explain them, I
would then certainly be in the subject
but this is not about a
performance but about the of history
art. The subject of performance must be
creative in itself in regard to the original


So it is indeed intended here to present
a creation / performance on the double
theme of a pictorial work and the statement
on the mother and individual freedom.
And this performance, the first in a series
on the same double-theme should be
identified as such, i.e. a first
approach of clearing the subject.

Monique Jarry (May 1980)


PAGE 175

***** (This text was addressed to the team of women responsible for the Women’s
experimental theatre.)

- In my head I have thought you and lived you
so much.
I have dressed you, undressed you, put makeup on you and took it so many times--

"" And we touch each other, and we work,
and we love each other and
we hug""

and then Pol dose not understand and
dose not see where is the difference and
she does not understand where I justify the
difference and she asks me ‘’again’’:
''But why do you
love men so much? ? ? ! ! !
"" and I, being mischievous, I start to dance again
chlac, chlac, CHLACK! and I stop
suddenly and stare at her with my very theoretical eyes:
''And if I told you: It is because
I've never seen anything in
men other than little darlings, kittens, rabbits, teddy bears""
and I leave again, dancing: Hey, no! what do
you want, it is not that, eh no! not yet ...
we do not ''choose'' our ideology in
art, our school or our movement,
it depends on how many minutes
the creating individual (unrelated to his IQ or his genius, I speak here
only of ''geniuses'') con (based on his
''type'' of personal-power-(talent))
can maintain PERCEPTEVELY (not animally-consciously)
a perception before him ABSOLUTELY
identical, irrespective of the

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''solicitations'' coming from outside
(from himself or from the ''outside''
of this said perception)
then depending on this calculation, he will
be the inventor of Cubism, of Surrealism
or of Minimalism, etc...


***** (Introductory text to the performance.)


‘’Festival of women creations’’
Women's Experimental Theatre.

May 22: ‘’Fine Arts’’ evening

Monique Jarry, painter and designer

PERFORMANCE: ''Better to be a mother absent
and alive than present and dead''.

Art and intimacy
- - - - - - - - - - --

...''Transcending fear and insecurity
through art and intimacy''


Art and intimacy
Oppression and self-repression
Revolt and creation

Liberating Liberty

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***** (I am posing here between page 1 and page 2. Here begins the performance. On
stage there is Monique, facing the public (about sixty persons, men, women and children:
men are in minority...) next to her, in the shade, there is Alice Ronfard who does the ‘’off’’
voice and the voice of Cybèle (Alice is the daughter of Mr. Ronfard and Marie Cardinal,
who both including Alice, strongly sympathized with Monique. Marie Cardinal is part of the
public in this Fine Arts evening. In addition, on stage, there's me, Robert Stanton. I am back
to Monique and the public, my role is to manipulate the two projectors projecting on the wall
behind the stage the paintings that Monique has chosen for this performance. Despite the fact
that I told her that I would ‘’vomit’’ if I was ever on stage, she succeeded in convincing me to
participate. Being back to the public helped me greatly on top of the concentration that I needed
to synchronise the slides with the words of the text in the performance. I must tell you that
my presence on stage provided a ''small touch of contentment'' to Monique. Because those
whom were responsible for the theatre were all ‘’lesbian/feminist’’ and readily accepted that
men be part of the public but did not really like the fact that ‘’one’’ of them be part of the sow.
This ‘’small touch of contentment’’ of Monique’s explains itself in this quote: by her: -''I work
with who I want in my art and no one will impose on me with whom I work, whether it be a
man or a woman or any other or whatever!''
So Monique imposed my presence on stage to these ladies.
Monique was ''costumed'' in very tight-fitting leather pants, and a long leather poncho adorned
with white rabbit fur around the neck.
I am telling you all this to give you an idea of the scene: I was a witness and a participant in this
The texts that follow are ''approximately'' in the order they have been ''delivered'' that evening.
These texts are taken from the file that Monique kept, they are a set of personal notes that she
used on stage. It could be possible that some of these texts were not used, my memory cannot
certify this rigorously, but it certainly were used to ''create'' the performance: therefore, to quote
Monique: ''When in doubt never refrain.’’ Thus, I have included them.
I am presenting the texts of the performance starting with the ''road map'' that Monique had
established, and then follows the texts as such, including the staging notes.
In addition, it is to be noted that there was present a team of CBC TV (French) who recorded
the performance for one of their programs ... X?)


Show Notes the conference on the 14th
My text on Tuesday morning at the latest –

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- Intro --

- Some key-words off stage - on art and creation

- America on stage ***** (Song, composed by Monique)

- I walk to and fro
I speak alone
my life, flashes, I not longer dared to
look the world in the face, especially
children, I describe my paintings

- Interruption by the voice of a child,
‘’say mom etc…sing me my

- I turn to the public and speak
I have the chance to live an extraordinary

- Explain what is happening.

- Interruption by the adolescent child:
her rebellion, games of power and sexism
it's frightening, revolting.
I laughed and I draw her to me, take her
in my arms and explain to her the concept
that no it's not revolting, what is all crooked is
reality, we have
gropingly, ''defined '' this real now
that we know where we are going, that we are not
crazy, that there is really a problem; IT IS
SIMPLY MARVELOUS, because we are the ones
who have the chance to accomplish this lofty task,
the most wonderful, to make evolve consciousness and the human condition
- Image off --
Our children need hope and great causes to support
their youth, real causes, just and tangible.
And by all the devils, I who thought myself poor,

PAGE 179

now I am holding in my hands the most beautiful cause that can be offered
to their wholeness and the pride they have in wanting to be useful.

- End text of the girl --




What specifically singularises a

A performance can include any content
without restriction.
A performance can take any shape
without restriction.
The specific characteristic of a performance is ... ... its
uniqueness ... maybe.
It reality is bound to its very existence.
A ‘’poetry-performance’’, for example,
is not simply its interpretation;
it is the re-creation of this poetry in the

PAGE 180

presence of others.


A performance is always a testimony
in the present.
A ''performance'' is a moment of

Without commitment, creation is only fabrication,
entertainment, or interior decoration ... ....

The act of creation is irreversible.

Creation is an investigation of the world
Science is an investigation of the world
Analysis is an investigation the world
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Creation has this in particular, to never
conclude definitively, nor to rule.
Creation cane not have the pretence to demonstrate,
creation attempts to create.

There is for the artist, in art, so much
more than the objects produced.

The vision of the creation and vision of the work belongs
INPRESCRIBEBLY to the eye that looks at them.


The creative process is developed in the
absolute presence of the artist to his theme.
Creative work does not breathe in the lights
of taboos, of puritanism’s and of values
fallen into disuse.
Militate is ... to militate. And to create,... is to create.

PAGE 181

To militate, sometimes provocative, sometimes denouncing
or mediating with ignorance; to militate
Creating: a statement without the directing of critical
Creating: unilaterally imposing one's vision of the world
without comment, creation is a martial art.

What can we say about creative women evolving in parallel
within a feminist movement that is now
pregnant of a viable condition of women
When this viable condition for women is born, a
fulfilling condition will be born for the women-mother.
So what can we say while waiting about this same woman-
mother and her present condition as a creator.
Pure Art having always been marginal ‘’any way’’;
thus many among us have withdrawn to the ‘’maquis’’
more or less around the so-called year of ''1968'', having
understood that: ''Better to be a missing and living
mother that present and dead.'')


- Viva la luz del tiempo
que venga a su sombre vida
Viva la maria
Y viva su hija


***** (Song written and composed by Monique, she accompanies
herself on the guitar)

America America

Viva el Senor Don Christobal
Que viva ma patria mia

PAGE 182

Viva los tres Caravellas
La Pinta, La Nina y la Santa Maria

Men have marched
On foot, on horseback and in rockets
During three hundred years
During three hundred years

From the Tierra del Fuego
To the territories of Greenland,
Have assassinated Kennedy
Have assassinated Allende

America, America
But you're still unknown
But you're still unknown

How could you understand
That here the morning rose
From the day our souls
Rose to our conscience.

Fear and insecurity
Like love and freedom
Are born of fire of passions
when the river reaches its source

America, America
But you're still unknown
But you're still unknown

Viva la orientacion
(hurrah for commitment)
Que atraela felicidad
(who invented happiness)

The qual es sediciosa
(which alone is seditious)
Y viva sus hijas
(and hurrah for her daughters)


PAGE 183

-''Miss, Ms ...
a man came ...
with the police,
with papers, with photos ...
... they said that you're
child was his
daughter ...
... and they took her away...
... what could
I do ?...''

- Here is the story of
Marie-Antoinette Monique
1960 - 13 years old, Beatnik.

1968 in x months
will come out ‘’the new law’’
on divorce,
while waiting, I wait
but they say '' abandonment of
the matrimonial home,''
I wait and I am
at fault

1970? ? x thousands of
women illegally
separated beset
the courts to
regularize their situation
that justice be done ...

19xx young Quebec citizens
will become
‘’major’’ at 18
I'm 20 years old

PAGE 184

the father talks… go to
bed with your
crazy story’s! Good for you
my daughter if you can go stay
downtown if you don’t live
with him any more.
At least I had you married
long enough for Cybèle to
bears his name.
And it is very good that he made
the blunder to take her with him,
it means that you are free.
When you will me major
you will be able to redo your life
nor seen, nor known ...
- Me: But, But ...
- Father, Listen my daughter listens my daughter...
me, my daughter, for my life ... but
the crash, you did not live it, me my daughter
yes? yes? yes. Me my boy
the crash, the money,
the crash fucked you well.

Needless to present myself me and my
father; her and her father
for example
me and my father we fight
I fight therefore I exist
Me and the father to my daughter?
he blackmails me
they blackmail me? ha
to exist, I exist, I
resist therefore I exist ...
my daughter and her father?
my daughter? she is the exchange currency
''She'' dose not exist
she is waiting for us to stop
to be born.
So in consequence of

PAGE 185

Solomon’s judgment: His parents
have custody pending
that I have money and then
... that I reach my majority
Well! ... Well it is that
Toc, Toc, Toc, Master xx
delivers verdict: I heard
full of bells in my head
it was certainly not a chorus of
archangel because the judge did
not cry out like in religion
by driving out the merchants from the temple
Here is the real mother who prefers
losing her child rather than
see her torn between two gangs.
Then he gave me an embarrassed
smile saying to me (snake voice) ''you know
art is very good, I have
nothing against artists, also
it is surely you who
gave this so poetic name to your
child: Nadja Cybèle ...
good luck little one...

***** (These are paintings by Monique)
(caricatures 1- on the judge
2 - leg cut
3 - my soul boils.

‘’ by continuing to gnaw at my brakes
I am afraid that my breaks will
fail’’ ‘’by continuing t…
I am afraid, by continuing
I am afraid...''
Slow down, slow down
drive as little as possible, there is less danger
not to move, absent myself
become invisible
just go out a little to

PAGE 186

go to the corner of this street
in the North, so far from the slum neighbourhood,
perhaps she will be playing outside,
making clothes, tinkering jewellery
waiting in the evening before their door
if the blinds are open, perhaps I will see
her singing a few songs at the in
coffee shop, pass the hat
they will perhaps give her to me
maybe one day,
for cash at dawn
they sometimes give in and let me
take her for a stroll, I keep her all day,
when we come back she is sleeping
on my breast like an angel.
They can not yell for fear of waking her
but they take her from me
to put her to bed,
I am not allowed to go in the room to kiss her good knight
my presence
is tolerated only in the lobby.
Mother-in-law: ''It is scandalous to
tire this child until she
falls! What an unnatural mother.
Besides Cybèle must not see you any more, it does her harm
each time she sees you and for days each time she wakes up.

But I'm her mother! It is because she misses me,
don’t you see. ‘’Come on as if such a young
child can understand that you're her mother, I am the one that she calls
mom.'' Leave her to me, you will see, she will not cry any more
''Come on, let our little Cybèle live with an artist with no money,
if you are really her mother, open your eyes, look at here, the walls
the carpets, the furniture, her toys, the fridge is full, the money,
the money, the money. What do you have to offer her!!'' …I love her
and I know she loves me ... and I have my breasts ... two years
after there is still milk when I press on my nipples ...
sure I can not pay for a career plan, but I have
stories, my studio is full of all the colours in the

PAGE 187

world, I can show her how to give birth to flowers
by speaking to them and ... ... the flowers would answer her also...

Sister-in-law entering in a whirlwind, a young girl not much
younger than me, but I'm so old, so tired,
so broken, I'm losing blood from my vagina
for days and days, weeks, many months,
I do not see doctors often (no health insurance in those
days), I'd rather keep my money in case we could
have a party again the Cyb and Me ...
So Beautiful sister-in-law enters like a tornado and in tears, yelling,
hiccuping with sisterly-brotherly love for her only
big brother, throws herself at me: Liar, Liar
Liar, my brother cannot be so bad, it is
surely because you are a whore, a hypocrite and a
whore - black humour: hey! yes! Cruel tenderness of
collaborators with the power - What can we say about this
sister-in-law, a child herself, like Cybèle, like me?
murder her by killing the image of her first great love,
her big brother? Be silent, continuing to gnaw at my
brakes, I'm afraid ... continuing ... I am afraid, be silent, move
as little as possible, pass between the drops, by not moving
maybe I will not explode, smile, turn the other cheek
I do not want to hurt, it hurts too much to be hurt, forgiving
those who do not know what they do (even then it would require
passing through sainthood without dying, hard
to forgive when you're dead) smile, turn the other cheek,
Dam you are a jerk god to gender Sons that are so flipped
Dam that you are so criminal to give to your sorts of jesus’s
so much power and charm with the crowd, you are exploiting
this big lump of a son that it seems that you cherished
so ... as to send him to have him killed by us in your place, you trash,
by making him believe that he was here to save us,
how naive and pathetic these jerks jesus’s
slaughtered on behalf of the other - cynical humour: and
note that the more things change, the more they stay the same, when I
think of Peter, Jean, Jacques, these so charming and
lovable jerks who always continue on behalf of their

PAGE 188

This was the story of
Marie-Antoinette Monique
1980 - 33 years old. Feminist


Why I live alone?
How can we
come to be alone.

- Well when I was young
my beauty harmed me
now obviously it
hares me less... only
people will let themselves be
soften less when one is older
Whether it's with men
or women it is the same.
In any case, little one, especially do not
ever believe popular adages.
''The face is the mirror of the soul''.
Ho! It is not that it is always
so false only what do you think
of its usefulness? Nothing, nothing other
than making you go to hell ... or at best nothing
at all.
Hold me, look at me, all those who
know me, those who love me as
those who hate me have always
said they can read
in my face all that I think,
some will say ''She has her heart stamped
in her smile''
or '' her soul clings to her
forehead as purity''
the other ''Ho! Only looking at her face
and you'd think that you were
seeing her dirty porn

PAGE 189

or ''Just by looking at her
jaw it is like hearing
all her crazy

In short everyone agrees unanimously
believing that my face is the reflection
of my soul.
The result, whatever I say, whatever I do, ‘’males’’
will say, pinching my buttocks ''too beautiful to be honest''
and ''females'' will think ''too beautiful to think''
So it is that I find myself ‘’very spoken about and very discussed''
‘’very desired and very despised''
but especially one in the other ALONE

- Small voice ''the worst is that I so love the world ...''


On the theory of the retro visor

- Ha! what an advantage, poor widow of
Cartouche, for us women,
when our civilization
will mutate or leave its
place to a new one ... or collapse,
because of not having any having model
(or nearly so) in which we can identify ourselves
with admiration or fear in the intransigence
and idealism of our
youth. New, in love and virgin
for us, all is to be built,
Our brothers fully ''Loaded '' with images,
of roles and male archetypes--
heroes of a dying civilization,

PAGE 190

ending, crumbling, have so much to clear
before being able to identify themselves,
just at the same moment when the urgency of being
falls on our history.


Of the guerrilla


Fuck the guys on their
own turf (well why pollute
our own with these bass
‘’to the points’’)

it’s a child’s game
suffice to have the proper ‘’disguise’’,
you know, the ‘charming’’ look
that neutralizes what they hold to
be as their intelligence, a bit
of empathy, an hour here and their
devoted at observing the
techniques used in films,
TV shows them
all now, (ha! The
‘’gratuity of the mass-media!!!
A little, just a little bit of information,
the enemy is not a brain child
in the hands of any
pin-up what so ever - there is no need
that the disguise be so perfect,
guys have lower sights and are very basic
in front of girls in
the leased disguise.

A good team, a well engaged maqui, decided,
structured and organised operationally, and DISCRET
with one or two procurers, what a disaster

PAGE 191

and in very little time, that is the worst. Ho! Let us
forget about that, what a sin that would be! What subversion!
PERVERSION would clamour the good people.


The old familiar ‘’pimp’’

The old jerk does not take
care of his family, his daughter
does everything to ‘’protect’’ him from
his responsibilities and it is he
whom calls her a whore.


Of masculine psychology

The psychology of a man
is so fragile, what can you do!
not even a ‘’word higher than
the other’’, simply a word
or another in less
and bang no more ‘’virility’’.


…well my daughter, it is hard
to define…( here talk about
all the vague clichés on femininity)…
…and when it falls
it never comes back up ‘’again’’.

- what are the vague names that Freud
gave to ‘’feminine’’ sicknesses

PAGE 192


- passages on the ‘’little one at play
at school
at the factory
or at the office’’

During thirty years they have blundered
by inventing machines that would
replace them, making them ‘’obsolete’’
in fact…(I – war is done by
pressing on a button now
no more need for muscles.
The guy – of course but if I did not have
a man, who would
decide when to
go to war???)

god forbid that we bring them
back into real life!!
they don’t even know how to feed themselves
(cook an egg), give birth, give themselves birth,
take care of themselves, educate themselves, the
real life of grownups, what!,…a bit more and they
would let themselves become ‘’extinct’’
without even noticing it playing at Mister-important-things

well finally we can not dirty them, hurt them…our
hands in the bread, water and blood (note: say these three
words in a respectful manner) thus…they are not made for living,
no my girl, they are not made for that…

- A fund raiser to combat against the under-development
of men, we are civilised no?



What can Art do

Is it only Art that evolves
during the course of time


PAGE 193

The artist?

What can be the use of art to the
creator himself?
Art, a simple visual artist tool
to explore or to expose ideas,
approaches or concepts
or a lived asceticism
to grasp reality, analyse it and
to situate ourselves in it.
Dose art give testimony on its century
in history;…only?
…using the artist as a
vehicle of this ‘’reporting’’??
art, approach and tool of investigation
for the use and at the disposition of
the creator himself. The work cautioning
the soul of the artist in relation to its author?

Art? Of two things
one, it is something
or it is nothing
if it is nonsense, it is irrelevant
to bother with it, what the hell,
no! And if on the contrary it is
something then it must leave
traces somewhere, a clue
in the soul…why
in the soul, well art
is not a light weight, it does not
intervene precisely in
the bladder or in the muscle

PAGE 194

of your hip…at least not in a
general fashion, no?
Thus art, if it is something
as such, there is no question imagining
discovering its essence anywhere or any
way, in whatever field of intervention
- like love: any person
alone with any other person haphazardly isolated
in a broken elevator even during a hole knight would
not be able to conclude that love would have blossomed
in her in the early morning
or again two sexologist discussing
of themes as fundamental as birth
death and sexuality cannot be sure
that they have known INTIMITY during
the course of their


- my hatred?
I don’t know it!

my love…is without limits
my needs, my dreams (evoked
constantly but under utilised
lack of ‘’occasions’’- please note
that here it is a question of love
and not sex, of enjoyment and
not of power, of intimacy
and not of possession…)

- when I was small I…
Also, love is cumulative and I
have so much that I will not live long
enough to give it all away before I die,
considering the ‘’drop’’ in the demand
for this item in my civilisation.

PAGE 195

On the other hand my revolt is
without limits…’’except for myself’’…
I’m not crazy!! I jugulate
this haemorrhaging of my revolt because
otherwise it would take me away and
would make me blow up, me the first
under the impact… Sartre I believe, or another
said ‘’ each page that a creator wrights is a
pacific gesture facing humanity; he could have
placed a bomb’’ or something of that nature.
We might add an act
of ‘’self-preservation’’ towards himself,
the poor creator, so mined by
his own revolt!
…Well maybe that creators
do not feel this type
of interior pressure, of intimate
engagement of the soul towards their
revolt; after all how could I know, I am
a female ‘’CREATOR’’, so…it might
not be the same thing…I don’t know…
we will have to see…


Before yesterday a woman
artiste would lose her child,
yesterday having made love a woman
would loose her child (Marie-Claire being blackmailed by a man)
today for…political idea
…a little
tomorrow…the race…

I am an anarchist from ‘’an-arkiend’’
‘’without government’’
individuality (or ism?) and solidarity,
you can listen to my voice, I am of
no party, of no allegiance,

PAGE 196

of any extremism, of no recognised culture
and…of any diploma also, I am a voice…

‘’I will make you pay for all
the languishing your beauty caused.’’
-Voice of Denis Roch: live is very ungrateful
towards those who are beautiful.

…ordinary from here, of among us,
what I have seen every one
can see it (voice of the choir) ‘’all people if they look’’
what I know anybody
can know it. I am not ugly
nether frustrated, when I enter a café
all the men look at me
and often accost me with gallantry
offer me flowers, I have the type of looks
that tempts them to do folly’s, I am often
offered marriage – (choir: ‘’she is so decorative’’)
-voice of a man ‘’as long as she shuts up’’
and when I do not have an orgasm, no
one dares say that I am frigid
-choir: ‘’his friends would laugh at him’’
Those who hate me – choir: ‘’the same ones
that find her so decorative’’ would especially not dare
to say that I have
a lack of passion.
I am not pitiful, it is a birth look,
even half dead and
starving and…sad (choir:
‘’and sad’’) I am not (choir: ‘’she is not’’)
the type to be pitiful.
Perfect training to mask ones
weaknesses…since childhood,
nor girl, nor boy, nor child
nor adult, I am an elder
(choir: ‘’no nor boy, nor girl, she is an e-l-d-e-r, repeated 3 times.)
- off voice: ‘’elder, resourceful, does not cry,
sensible, fair, reasonable

PAGE 197

(choir: ‘’re-as-on-ab-le
- crazy voice: ha! ha! ha! reasonable
reasonable, ha! ha! ha! reasonable
This ‘’I’’ speaks again:

Little ‘’I’’
Sensuality submerges me
do not be afraid I am so fearful,
and so polite, I am so little the
voice of the extreme, ho I have
dreamt of being a great bird of fire, but
I could not cut it – Cybèle: ‘’ but that is
not serious, eh mom, when the little
sparrows are up there in the sky they
see everything he, mom, he, it is the
point of view that counts no? (Cyb. To the public:
‘’it is to see that counts no?
Ho! Mom sings me my song

***** (Monique sings the song that she composed
and accompanies herself on the guitar)

Sing sing my little bird
Fly fly my love

People play, undress themselves
Eat or commit suicide,
Smiling, like if it was nothing, nothing
like if it was nothing, nothing

Sing sing my little bird
Fly fly my love

If they asked you why you sing
Close your ears, I will hear you
If they asked you why you fly

PAGE 198

Lay down on the wind, I will follow you

Sing sing my little bird
Fly fly my love

Love exists only in the clairvoyance
Of the lover, you must fly
Solitude is only an invention
Of impotence, you must sing

Sing sing my little bird
Fly fly my love

They will tell you that the energy of despair
Is the strongest, do not believe them I love you
My desire is much stronger than the will of appearances
Do not believe them I love you
And sing sing my little bird
And fly fly my love


-Monologue; ‘’Cybèle’’

- Do you have confidence in me?

‘’When you will not have the choice anymore
of staying or leaving
you will listen to your voice
and your thought free themselves’’

- Do not talk to me about actions
that the outcome will only appear
in more that 13 years
because I have been living on earth for 13 years
and for me, more that 13 years, is more than all my life.

Mom, mom
Look at me go

PAGE 199

Do you see the day so hoped for

(Do you have confidence in me?)

- They will tell us to get up
to love, to laugh
to do and buy
to dare to pay everything in French

They will tell us that are rights, our stretch
and our citizenship should be recognised
They refuse me the responsibilities
of my desire
of my tastes, my choices and
their formulation

-When I question
The tell me to act
And when I act
They question me

Mom, mom

To help me you would
have to fully exist

(Do you have confidence in me?)

- Confusion, fear and suspicion
rule the world, my loves my
dances and my songs
Take me whatever which way
I am HERE; as much for you
and for me

Confusion, fear and suspicion
rules fashion, my loves, my
dances and my songs

PAGE 200

I am not the devil to investigate the
Nor god to mortgage eternity
Take us any which way
we are here, as much
for you than for me
Do not try to find out anymore
why the others have
so much power over us,
They are looking at us, while
You and I, we are fleeing each other,
We are fleeing each other.


Becoming conscious

And then I told myself,
it is useless to play around with theories;
it’s a fact, like someone said:
‘’Happiness does not go to see sad people’’!
…I wonder what I was thinking
when I was not thinking…
…But what did I look like at the time
when my mother said that I dabbled in
everything, but it would have been hard
to reproached me because I succeeded in everything…
what was I dabbling in that I
succeeded so…what was I doing??...
how was I when I played
is it true that even then, all was simple,
all went well???...
Really!, it must be my mother’s idea…

Still, when I was young… ‘’life’’
I could have talked about it for hours!
It's funny when you think about it, what
did I know about life? Precisely,

***** (Next : Image number 1975-015.)