With her eyes closed, she looks at us. We listen to him. The silence of Alexandra’s images. What words does she want to whisper to us, are they made of the same wind that sweeps the landscapes? The same oxygen exhaled by plants? Eyelids open or closed, these faces that we contemplate, look at us as much as we look at them. Alexandra Catière encountered them at village festivals, in improvised studios in Brittany, far from the faces of Griffith's actors or the expressionist close-ups of Eisenstein's avant-garde silent cinema. The wrinkles, the folds, the roughness, the shine of our eyes are all details which simultaneously constitute the interface of our social relations and the layers of our identity. Beauty and melancholy coexist. Humble and dignified faces follow one another in a silence that only the sound of laughter could break. To say of photographs that they contain a promise of timelessness is a commentary devoid of meaning, and yet, these faces, these landscapes, these few still lifes by Alexandra Catière seem definitively impervious to the subterfuges of modernity and to its empire gained over the world. The damaged clock of progress gives way to a carnal and intimate clock with a capricious rhythm, matter and memory. Alexandra's facial features come alive between mystery and laughter, in the ambiguity of an anachronistic, asynchronous life and identity, marked by childhood in Minsk, flight to New York, daily life in Paris. The scenes she photographs, the compositions and the simplest objects take on the trappings of the sacred and seem to obey the grammar of a mysterious liturgy. A simple chair or flower petals in a light rain want to tell us something other than what they are. The look suddenly becomes meditative. As if Alexandra wanted to encourage us to listen to the fragile poetics of the world, to the sound of water, to the laughter that rolls towards the sea - and finally cultivate a new and salutary energy in our tormented relationships with the living, with ourselves and with others.