Lettre à Annie - 1994

The phallus is at the basis of my religion

and of my creations.

And so is it that in my whole life

I shall have written only

in order to write a multitude of love letters

out of this same humour

 - that you will come to know,

day after day and all along this scroll.

"All what is excessive is good."

A word to the wise is enough !

Greetings, reader.

Greetings that you shall give me back on the spot.

Look indeed how in my life,

everything agrees, fits and links up.

Everything gives itself away, tallies and stands out.

Lettre à Elisa - 1992

Lettre à Margarita - 1990

Sex.The blind sex !

The oneyed sex.

Blind as the blind's white stick.

Groping, the sex searches for its way -

and how many times the gracious and slim

hand of the woman have shown it.

Blindness, it gropes in the blindest of the nights

 marking time and even more stupidly :

instead of guiding, it rises unexpectedly

It is deaf, it is deaf.

 I love the words that speak of love to me.

I love the words that make love.

I love the image that makes the image.

I love the plain speaking.

I love the language of the language in love,

when the word gets crazy and rides the crazy speech,

the rythm turns barbarian and

the rhyme turns mad and flies away in rumblings.

I love the insane nonsense of my thought demented

by my senses.

 In spite of all

- excited by the smell of your entrails

shall I owe the best of my findings -

and in the same way inspired

shall a taste mistake be scored

because of this foolish taste I have for you

Lettre à Simone - 1978

Lettre à Elisa - 1992

With what a fever did I illuminate these pages with drawings

just as childish as they were erotic !

At the beginning of what had become my "Scroll",

this sybillin sentence :

"Ô how beautiful you are ! Ô how I love you !",

the O being the EYE and the circumflex accent the roof of the dormer.

Scroll John, scroll !

I scroll up ! I scroll down !

And indeed I took the habit to scroll up and to scroll down the forever burning recollection of my memories

in order to draw strange and violent pleasures of it.

 

Jean Benoît

 

 

 

 

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Jean Benoît himself Scrolls