Barbara Bui - Cousines et dépendances - Barbara Bui JPEG
Barbara Bui - Cousines et dépendances - Barbara Bui VIMEO 4m:30s

Barbara Bui - Barbara Bui
Cousines et dépendances

Barbara Bui - Barbara Bui - Cousines et dépendances


Title of Piece: Barbara Bui
Brand: Barbara Bui
Production Company: Cousines et dépendances
Client: Barbara Bui
Director: Keren Ann Ziedel
Producer(s): Marie Etchegoyen
Art Director: Keren Ann Ziedel / Nicolas Boualami
Editor: Erin Bowser
Director of Photography: David Chizallet
Hair & Makeup: Flavio Nunes de MFT Agency
Music/Sound Design: Bring Back Music / Keren Ann Ziedel
Writer: Keren Ann Zeidel
Additional Credits: Cyrille Liberman
Additional Credits: Arnaud Guez
Additional Credits: François Diard
Additional Credits: Arthur Vazquez
Instagram Tag: @kerenannmusic @cousines_et_dependances #barbarabui
Short Synopsis: Romain and Laetitia are set up in a room (kitchen?) near a large Haussmanian window. Their posture is frozen, the camera tells the trajectory. They are in two or well separate with sober everyday attitudes related to moments of contemplation (staring at an object when the cup of coffee is smoking on the table, looking out the window, closing a book, touching a material, stretching, exchanging a look...)
We will try to present ten “looks” from different angles by also filming details of the body, the neck, the hands, a shoulder... The camera makes the journey.
The sound of the electric guitar goes from an ugly-back progression to a rhythmic sequence with the voice-over that says:

"At first I wanted to make my body inhabit a familiar material. A leaf, an animal skin, a shell, bones, even a fur. I wanted to make my body inhabit every day in a texture, in a tone. In linen, hemp, silk, cotton. I wanted to wear metals. I wanted to wear a hat.
I don’t know if I wanted to define my appearance or my belonging. I don’t know if I wanted to imitate, please or reveal the crucible of a culture or a political movement. Often I wanted to get closer to the hidden folds of history, the one before me and that of the strangers I knew in the pages of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Woolf, Wilde, in the verses of Dylan, Springsteen and Cohen. I wanted to know the felt and the satin to make my body believe that we were in Kunming or Chengdu. I wanted to listen to Sinatra and walk slowly but surely in a white tuxedo with my mother’s Turkish Horse scarf.
One night I dreamed of a velvet cape, it was the same dream where Emily Dickinson tasted a never brewed liquor, she had hair pulled back and a Mexican brooch. When I woke up, I noticed that my pendant with my daughter’s initials was at the crossroads of time and space, as was the fourth-floor lady’s plum and lotus blossom scent at 41 Spring Street in New York City when she came down to pick up her diary.
Now I look at my guitar and its leather strap with the bird of paradise embroidered on it. This moment is fragmented, it is shared between individual, real and virtual worlds linked by textures that I now want to remove in order to make my body inhabit the arms of the one who makes matter timeless.”
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