Thulite

1.

It’s open and I decide to go in.

On the third floor, standing on the central platform of the disused mill, I look simultaneously through all three French windows which break up my line of vision. I focus my mind and begin to consider the best path to take.

Sections of my surroundings are hidden behind pink smoke and mist. The tank area is visible, laid out like a conglomeration of eggs that appear to have been brushed aside. Some of the organisms lie dormant in a horizontal position, their content soaked up by the earth long ago. Over the years the ivy has taken over and obliterated them.

The scene further to the left is punctured with a series of retention basins filled with gleaming water. They are interconnected by a network of pipes that zigzag between the trees. The water left to rest in these rubbery tanks is then filtered to recover the valuable sediments before being discharged into the river upstream.

The scale is confusing and my head is spinning. I decide to go for it. I surreptitiously go back down and continue straight on towards the work I began the day before.

The excavated soil has laid bare a vein of the stone I’m seeking. Its pinkish colour gives off a reassuring glow that fills the space. Beside it, an array of tools – hammers, chisels, drills, riddles and buckets – lie under a piece of jute fabric. Everything is covered by a milky powder, suspended in time.

2.

I’ve been walking for a few hours, my mind calm and a touch nostalgic.

My bag is full. I guess I have collected 5 or 6 kilos. I’m happy with that. It’s a good haul. My pendulum helped and I was lucky. Some pieces are solid pink, others are dotted with grey granite and three look almost white.

Along the path, blades of grass strive to defend their authenticity. They grow in the bumpy cracks of the old bitumen. They are desperate to talk to me. I wasn’t planning on having a conversation, and I’m embarrassed. I’ll come back once my task is finished.

Who are you?

Me…? Nobody.  

I speed up. My blister-covered hands grasp the carbon walking sticks, my fingernails tinged with pink. The colour contrasts beautifully with that of the vegetation and I decide to slow down. I’ve abandoned my tools. I’ll pick them up the day I apologise to the blades of grass.

A sign tangled in the growth rings of a tree trunk warns me there is a river to cross. I go over the time-worn footbridge. It sways. It’s the last part of my journey. Higher up, a brownish surge of water escapes from the hole-filled pipelines, creating hazy spirals as it enters the clear river water. A pink mist continues to rise from the water, moving closer now. I breathe it in. Once I have reached the other bank, I scurry down a path hidden in the forest to avoid the checkpoint. I enter the area.

The heat from the ventilation grilles warms my face. Drops of roselite from the chimneys form pink trails on the walls. I’m sweating and it feels like it is all mingling with my dusty skin. There is always a long wait in front of the packaging centre. Several of us sell stones here.

A camera recognises my face. The smoked glass doors open and I enter into the over air-conditioned building. I’m cold but this won’t take me long.

Guillaume Dénervaud (born in 1987 in Fribourg, Switzerland) is a Swiss artist who lives and works in Paris. He studied at the Geneva School of Art and Design (HEAD), Switzerland.

Dénervaud’s recent solo exhibitions include Ozoned Stations, Swiss Institute, New York (2023-2024); Orphaned Wells, Galerie Gregor Staiger, Zurich (2024); Synthetic Splinter, Bel Ami, Los Angeles (2023); Surv’eye, Centre d’édition contemporaine (CEC), Geneva (2021). His recent group exhibitions include Crumbling the Antiseptic Beauty, Fondation d’Entreprise Pernod Ricard, Paris (2024); La main-pleur, Fri Art Kunsthalle, Friborg (2022); and Des corps, des écritures, Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris (2022). 

Dénervaud has participated in residency programs at the Swiss Institute, New York (2021) and the Fondation d’Entreprise Hermès, Paris (2019). His works are part of the collections of the ICA, Miami, the MAMCO, Geneva, and the Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris.