Olga Boudin

Boudin’s world is intimate and domestic, it is rooted in daily moments and their sensations. Like the clatter of kitchen preparations heard from the still of the living room; these are sensory reflections that slip between objects and decorations. Sensations, subjects, objects are unlocked so they flow freely together in a compressed space; sometimes as thin as printed cotton, or just deep enough to allow for shadows. I’m reminded of what Pierre Bonnard said at the end of his life, “All my life I have floated between intimacy and decoration”. Boudin’s space is a space of living where masculin opens to feminin, the kitchen to the bedroom, from things to sensations. And where the private must become public.