Corderie Royale de Rochefort (France)  - Photos : Thierry Bodin


I had to go, and since that day I have worked on the theme of exile and the pain of leaving. In order not to leave alone, I invented traveling companions who have neither face nor name, nor nationality or religion: They are everywhere and nowhere and do not belong to the viewer except at the time of the meeting. Together, one day we start out, old, young, alone or accompanied, loaded, often, with unnecessary baggage and far too heavy memories. And then we move, each according to her quest, either to survive or to dream of Eldorado or some other promised land. When we tire, we set up makeshift camps and take the opportunity to open our suitcases and begin to dream. We meet and overtake those who remain even when there is no hope, those who testify. The story never ceases to repeat itself, only the parameters change ... But one day soon we will reach our goal ... otherwise what good would it have done to depart ?



 Corderie Royale de Rochefort (France)  - Photos : Thierry Bodin



Views of several exhibitions : Partir, Coclea gallery, camallera 1997- Museum Die Zitadelle, Berlin  2002- Dolors Ventos gallery, Figueres 2010- Kunst und Design,Gallery, Albstadt 2002- La Novia, Capella San Nicolau, Girona 1998.                                                                    Photos : J: Zacherl - S. Kästner

Sculpture: wire, mesh, fiber and glue - human size


All adults were first children: Children with the same needs and necessities, the same dreams and the same fears and anxieties. To transform individual memory into collective memory is the essence of this work. I work from actual places and use their distinctive stories and their protagonists, forcing the viewer therefore, to engage even more personally with the work.



 Die Zitadelle Museum, Berlin (exit lane): installation and hanging of images, texts and photos reworked from local archives. Photos J Zacherl 


        The air-raid shelter in Gerona: Sculpture: wire, mesh, fiber and glue, dried sunflowers, texts and drawings in chalk on the cement walls Photos M. Dunev  

Hélène Yousse creates her art with total allegiance, without concessions, out of a necessity. A necessity that doesn’t admit any giving up. Which draws its energy from the throbbing of an open wound, driven by the urgency to say directly what has to be said. What would be without this creation of art, the manipulation of matter? Loneliness, craziness, death. Time has no time. It stands in a relation of tension with the observer. In a relation of unbearable pain. The first figures have collapsed into themselves. They are present. So much present while they talk of absence. Of emptiness. Of farewell. Of the passing away of a much beloved person and his unforgettable gentleness.Totally exhausted, petrified puppets as if spellbound within the moment, there, without a face, their skin removed, crushed from waiting. Women out of rags, puppets made of trash.Little by little the emptiness is being filled with sky. The figures swing themselves up into the air – lightly – letting the light shimmer through them. Turned towards a warm and yellow sun. Like those Indians that throw themselves into the void rotating in the freedom of the air, although they are tied with their feet to the ropes, a reminder of the strict constraints of gravity.Hélène lives with her figures. She speaks with them. She touches them. She caresses them. They are alive. In the kitchen. In the living room. Hanging from the ceiling or sitting next to the fireplace.They are thirsty of freedom. Or, as Hélène puts it, “ With my figures I hold the sky in my hands.”

Joël Capella for the Exhibition HÉLÈNE YOUSSE Salles Municipales of Girona (Spain.)