A little intimacy seems to have been removed from the harmonics delivered by each of the images composed by Benjamin Mouly. Isolated, individually, they take advantage of the interstices they create between them to operate in fragments in a sort of remanence. From them, the score, played indifferently in colour or in black and white, appears as two scales that never cease to feed each other without touching. Passing from still lifes to anonymous silhouettes, it is no longer the edge of the bodies, nor of the frame that is expected, but rather what has come to lodge itself, to interfere "between". The off-screen is no longer useful here, since the detail is enough to plunge into a sea of abstract oscillations or into the folds of a limb. Everything is contained within: a world of "intensities" and "matters" arising by chance. - Fanny Lambert