3.Third resident (3 weeks in November-December 2009, January and February 2010): Mathias Poisson, drawer, visual and performance artist, dancer.
Lives... sometimes... in Marseille, but his life as an artist leads him here and there in France, and abroad (he lived in Damas and is presently (février 2010) in Algiers).
Housed for few day as a friend at Jean Cristofol's and Dominique Poulain's place during summertime in 2009, Mathias Poisson witnesses from the terrace, at night, in July 2009, a blaze in the distance.
He takes at that moment this picture, which he will dedicate to HĂ–FN the 18th of December 2009, very soon after his first stay as a resident:

Marseille July 2009 : "Smoke"
......................................................................................................
As he exhibits at the MuCEM:
Paysages sensibles
Alger, Beyrouth, Marseille, Naples …
from the 5th of November to the19th of December 2010
Opening the 4th of November at 6 PM
at the MuCEM - Musée des Civilisations de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée
Drawings, Photographies, Videos, Maps
Mathias Poisson, (who was our third resident), sends us one of his maps, a drawing which depicts minutely a closed area from our residence, between Verduron and Saint Antoine.
Down here:
....................................................................................................................................................................................
2. Second resident, from the 25th of July to the 4th of August 2009; and again, from the 1st to the 4th of September 2009: Christophe Bourguedieu, photographer. Lives and teaches in Paris, Tried to pierce Marseilles out, that summer...
Christophe Bourguedieu sends this photography to HĂ–FN the 22nd of September 2009:
.jpg)
Marseille juillet 2009
....................................................................................................................................................................................
1. First resident, from the 15th of March to the 5th of April 2009: Caroline Duchatelet, usually living in Marseilles.
Invited for one year as a resident in the Medicci Villa (Roma), she came back for 3 weeks to Marseilles as she was preparing an exhibition in the gallery R.L.B.Q.
Caroline Duchatelet sends this text to HĂ–FN the 13th of April 2009:
Höfn, avril 2009
Arrivée de loin. Encore l'italien qui chante dans la tête.
C'est le soir tard odeur sèche et chaude du sud odeur sèche de pierre et d'herbes dures. Croassements de grenouilles. Soudain le souvenir sonore de la banlieue de Kyoto, les grenouilles la nuit dans les rizières, un souvenir incongru mais quelle qualité de silence derrière ce concert inattendu.
Une petite chambre de bois, de cire, le plancher craque, une alcĂ´ve, un bureau ancien.
C'est sur le pourtour de la ville, ça lui tourne le dos vers la garrigue, mais aussi de l'autre côté par la fenêtre c'est Marseille quartiers nord et sa mer, son port. La ville proche dure lumineuse en chantier, entrevue large chaque jour.
Il y a pourtant ce reste de ferme.
C'est un lieu propice, concentré. C'est jardin, rocher, hauteur, clos, mais on y sent toute l'étendue, la longueur, l'ampleur de la ville, de la mer, de l'horizon, derrière les vieux murs épais.
(English translation):
I've arrived. From far away. Italian still sings in my ears.
It's late in the evening. Warm and dry southern smell. Dry stone and rough grass smell. Frogs cawing. And at once the echoing memory of Tokyo suburb, frogs at night in rice fields- incongruous recall but... such a silence quality beneath the unexpected concert.
A small wax and wooden sleeping room, the creaking wooden floor, an alcove, an old writing desk.
It is on the border of the town. It turns its back on it, facing scrubland, but on the other side through the window, there is Marseilles, North districts. Its sea. Its harbour. Here is the city, so closed, harsh, radiant, under neverending construction: wide glance at it every day.
And yet, it feels this was a farm once.
It is a propitious, concentrated place. It is garden, rock, height; enclosed but somehow opened to the extent, the length, the breadth of the town, the sea, the horizon , behind the thick old walls.