In the late afternoon, Lescure holds an invitation to play. Its beautiful light and shadows seduce visitors to create a personal artwork, temporary or permanent. I’ve seen friends toy around with the ancient art of shadow puppetry, take dreamlike photos or set up installations that weren’t meant to last, but rather disintegrate and disappear with the ephemeral light. Look and look again. Nothing is quite what it seems.
For wistful souls vintage mirrors hold greater appeal than any modern version: Age-spotted and foxing, old mirror glass intrigues with its potential mystique. I recall a holiday in Mozambique where we stayed in an abandoned Portuguese resort on an island in the Indian Ocean. Local villagers had gathered left-over furniture and had used it to furnish a couple of ‘hotel rooms’. One pitch black evening before going to bed I found myself gazing into the mirror of an old dressing table. If you stare long enough at your own reflection, you start seeing things, and soon my likeness was joined by those of visitors of times past. I’m hardly unique in my fascination. Chinese mythology features the fauna of mirrors, with a universe full of creatures not of this realm behind every mirror. In other cultures, mirrors are thought to have the power to capture and trap souls. The mirrors of Lescure, however, just want you to come out and play.