Born in 1987 in England, lives and works in Oslo, Norway.
Robert Carter has a writing practice that takes the form of video essays and live readings. His texts unravel the facts and rituals of a sometimes trivial daily life, to which he tries to inject meaning through subtle associations of ideas. Banality and intimacy turn out to be deeply political, our internalised habits imprinted with cultural facts and learnings that we question only too little. “Irony is to the English what self-reliance is to the Americans, or what linguistic cultivation is to the French,” he asserts quoting another writer - Rebecca Mead, questioning the thin border between national values and mythologies. Tinted with humour and melancholy, Robert Carter's gaze on his environment is emphatic, sometimes acerbic, but always humble and touching.
Opening the 10th February from 6.30pm to 10pm
Last Spring Robert came to France with a video camera and a vague ambition to make a film. A social documentary about the Clermont Pigeon Union (colombophiles). He met the men, their racing birds and fluffed-up prize winning beauties. This as-yet unfinished project currently hangs in the balance. An unhatched egg. A potentially empty shell.
Having reached a point where he felt defeated by language and incapable of writing a simple narrative that didn’t entirely revolve around his own self-interest, the artist felt an urge to stick his hands into some clay. To work in silence. To get out of his head and into his hands and arms. This exhibition presents the resultant work, a series of ceramic reliefs inspired by a book he found in the flea market last year.
53 Rue Drelon, 2ème étage
To visit the exhibition :