Charlotte Vignes50 feuilles de papier blanc (UNIQUE COPY)

Each copy, unique, is made of undeveloped photosensitive paper sheets, bound in a darkroom, then kept away from light using various protective devices: boxes, straps, or opaque envelopes.

From the very first opening, an irreversible process begins: the gradual yellowing of pages that were initially white, blank. With each handling, they take on a pinkish hue, like pinched skin whose color deepens under pressure.

Over time, they turn a deep violet, evoking the successive shades of a bruise.

The word pellicule, from the Latin pellicula meaning “little skin,” predestines a carnal relationship with photography. Light, both marker of time and primary condition of the image, is the main agent of this metamorphosis.

At first empty, the book becomes the archive of a sensory experience. It shifts from the silence of white to a marked surface, imbued with duration, transformed by the very act of being handled, in the hollow of one’s hands. It recalls ancient volumes whose pages slowly yellow, discreet witnesses of their exposure to time.