Yann Stofer

Inside the vehicle, the subjects remain perceptive as the landscape streams past and the car gathers speed. Bathed in winter sunlight, images of sleepers follow one another; faces become a malleable substance, awaiting form. A sense of suspense emerges and, as is often the case, it stems less from narrative construction than from the intensification of tension.

A House Is Not a Home immediately presents a vulnerable subject, lacking control over their own representation, carried across vast landscapes by unconscious forces. It is in the attention paid to this form of somnambulism that Yann Stofer’s work finds its aesthetic impulse: the intrepid advances with eyes closed.

Into the loops of memory shaped by the dream-making machine blend the muffled perceptions of shifting light, of the vehicle changing lanes on a snow-covered highway, of its accelerations and slowdowns. The intimate—the sense of “home”—takes on a variable geometry.

Text by Julien Perez.