Julien Segard

I work in charcoal — a material that inscribes and wears away in the same gesture — across three territories: the Étang de Berre near Marseille, Delhi, and Goa. I read landscapes for what extraction leaves behind: bunkers absorbed into the dunes, the undersides of flyovers, mended street chairs, an oil palm drawn on a rusted hull. Five cycles organise the work.