Guided by a deep sensitivity to all living things, I am especially moved by the suffering that humans inflict upon Nature. Among all forms of life, it is the Trees – my lifelong fascination – that touch me the most. Rooted in place, they cannot flee danger. Their resilience is silent, steadfast. This is why the Tree holds a central place in my artistic universe. Many of my creations seek to reveal its inner states, to give it a voice, to personify it.

Feu Mon Arbre (‘Once-a-Tree’) was born in the heart of a burning summer—marked by relentless heatwaves and haunted by images of wildfires devastating forests across the globe. These images wounded me. They stayed with me. I needed to receive them, to transform them. As so often happens, it was through working with Earth – clay – that I chose to tame this pain. Creating this piece became my way of giving shape to the unspeakable, of carrying a message: a cry of alarm, but also a breath of hope, a promise of renewal.

The piece speaks first through its form and colours: a tree, standing, rooted, still alive. A grey trunk – the colour of ash. Red branches – the colour of fire, or of blood. A tree reaching skyward, its limbs open like arms: in a gesture of welcome, or of plea.

It also speaks through its name: Feu Mon Arbre ('Once-a-Tree'). A tree in flames. A tree no more. A tree gone – though only in appearance.

Above all, this work invites a silent reflection. It whispers its story, a poem, a suspended question:

‘Earth in flames, the forest scorched and bare –
And yet,
from ashes, Life stirs the air.
Once-a-Tree speaks in glowing red:
Its limbs reborn where fire once spread.
A cloak
of Earth and Water, through Fire wed –
Nature, in a breath, revives what’s dead.’