These two pages, drawn from the Mangaga performance, were published in The DNA Garden catalogue.

Not to be confounded with ssayan & the black speech bubbles, the performance saga which is the subject of a homonymous photonovel, in progress.

page 1

page 1

page 2

page 2

With innuit, we knew each other from way back. But before tonight, we had never met.
This moment is all the moments. This one where my red line holed the pink tubing to in-flirtate it friendly…
This is the fragmentation of this male line by its bloody scribbling that actually creates all the continuity with Her, the line of the Other: each fragment is a flap of flesh, of shared life.
Before, we were two to be alone. Now we are two to be oneself: erostified alive!

To perform is to punch the limits. Giving desire under a dream’s guise: innuit strips inside. He ejaculates nothing else but freedom. (which is the sap of the dream.)
A Performance is a schedule to cast against type, as a truant life stolen from the routine of nothingness. You know, this time gap in the morning when you put your book reluctantly, to go to work, still tanglegasted in the wonders that you just read. This is this flash, of premeditated innocence, where you decide that this morning instead of going to work, you will choose to make love.

This perf is the first, so it’s also the last and the only, which inducts our No Milky Way: the black bubbles, eternal return of things, an inverted imprint, Bohemia negative where we begin our shift. Painted my body by default, post-posthumously adhesive of every nights of time. The black bubbles are like parentheses: they reveal by contrast what matters all around. They contain the honeydew of the essence of things.

On one side innuit is there, the transpolar Ganesh. He is by himself a paradox equation of a lust jungle assorted by Antarctic.
ssayan is his mirror, primitive mangaga, a snake’s moult, ancestral sophistry. A soul of a thousand years in a childish mind.
It is true that we are naked, grotesquely poetics. If I have the good fortune to please you is that it was our time.

Our art is subsidiary:
 …
 ?
 !
 .


ssayan


The comics ssayan and the black speech bubbles is an atlas of desiring strip, pictorial and photogenic.
Sylvain Paris