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  • You see, I see
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HomeYou see, I see

You see, I see

You see an object. I see what it reveals about you.

“Plein Soleil” Exhibition. You see flip-flops. I see a curse.

Daido Moriyama “Lettres d’amour à la photographie” You see photos, I see a Living Being learning to Disappear

You see the white cube, I see the hospital walls

stellapolare_artiste_paris

Uzbek artist (from Tashkent) based in Paris.
You see an object, I see a story.
↓ Art, Exhibitions, Books
The day we were at Grand Galerie d'évolution in Pa The day we were at Grand Galerie d'évolution in Paris with my baby. He loves to touch.... And actually all my objectice was trying to explain that touching is prohibited. Visting was worth of it because of "Wow" at every big animal we have seen♥️♥️♥️ #babies #visiting #MuseumArt
Instagram post 18019472546874829 Instagram post 18019472546874829
We are finally at Home, back from Palermo 💙 We are finally at Home, back from Palermo 💙
You see bra, I see Matzher screaming, and staying You see bra, I see Matzher screaming, and staying "goe, Leavve youur Hasband and all your dauughters, and go k... yourself" the voice I have Heard, Still under impression, how @annettemessager would know that, like 1 balzac, #motherartist #motherhood #khulkaryunusova #stellapolareartiste #contemporaryartist
Palermo, 2026 cultural choc, not all the Scorpions Palermo, 2026 cultural choc, not all the Scorpions are so poisonous, Italy is very Bambino friendly 💙
Нас просто меняют местами... Однажды я рожусь внуч Нас просто меняют местами... Однажды я рожусь внучкой моего сына❤️ с тем же лицом и с той же любовью к искусству и всему красивому ❤️
You see sleeping girl, I see the non-said words at You see sleeping girl, I see the non-said words at family table ❤️ is everything you eat at family gatherings are so useful for your body ? Talks, vitamines and compétition with family members... #ContemporaryArt #photoart #denisrouvre #stellapolareartiste #khulkaryunusova
You See a Cube. I See the Disappearance of Appetit You See a Cube. I See the Disappearance of Appetite. I discovered Le supermarché aux pixels — The Pixel Supermarket — at the exhibition Food (R)evolutions / (R)évolutions dans l’assiette in Dijon, a city whose identity is inseparable from French gastronomy. Perhaps this context is precisely why the project left such a strong impression on me. In a place where food means pleasure, recipes, markets, smells, terroir, transmission and an entire culture of eating, I found myself standing before a proposition for a radically different future: a supermarket in which food, at least as we recognise it today, may no longer exist. The project by Taeyang Eom, Taehee Kim, Jacob Racon and Léane Vérité imagines a future shaped by increasingly scarce natural resources. Food has been reduced to pixels: small cubes created from micro-organism molecules, each corresponding to a particular flavour or nutritional component. Cooking consists of combining these pixels according to our desires and bodily needs. Even great chefs survive in this imagined future, but their role has changed. Instead of transforming ingredients, they use pixels to reconstruct the illusion of dishes we once knew. At first, the proposition can seem playful, almost optimistic. Humanity has always adapted. If conventional agriculture becomes impossible, perhaps we will simply invent another way of feeding ourselves. But one word in the description stayed with me: illusion. Because if we need to create the illusion of a dish, somewhere behind that illusion there must be an original — something that exists now, or perhaps something that once existed and has disappeared.
You See a Clock. I See the Time That Remains. At You See a Clock. I See the Time That Remains. At first, you see a clock. Or rather, several clocks: different cities, different hours, different points on the planet existing simultaneously. This is Le Compteur du temps (2020) by Gloria Friedmann. I encountered the work in Dijon, and its premise seems almost disarmingly simple: here, you can read the local time in several cities around the world. Paris is somewhere in its afternoon while another city is waking up and another is already disappearing into night. We invented clocks precisely to organise this confusion, to transform something invisible into numbers that can be shared, measured and controlled. Yet Friedmann immediately disrupts this reassuring logic with a sentence: “What matters is your time, the time that belongs to you at this precise moment. Enjoy it.” And then comes the line that changes everything: “It is not time that passes; it is we who pass through time.” Gloria Friedmann, born in 1950, is a German-French artist whose work frequently confronts the human being with nature, mortality and our strange conviction that we occupy the centre of the world. Here, she needs almost nothing to destabilise us. A device designed to measure time becomes a reminder that time may not need measuring at all. The clocks continue functioning perfectly, but suddenly the question is no longer, What time is it? It becomes: How much of my time have I already lived? This is where the work turns almost imperceptibly from an instrument into a memento mori. You see a clock. I see mortality. The formal simplicity is essential. There is no dramatic image of death, no skull, no extinguished candle, no ageing body. There is simply a mechanism producing numbers. Seconds replace one another with complete indifference. The clock does not know whether the minute it measures contains a birth, a kiss, an argument, a diagnosis, a child's first word or absolutely nothing memorable. For the machine, every minute has exactly the same duration. For us, no two minutes are equal. This brings Friedmann's work close to a long Western tradition of the vanitas. In seventeenth-century European painting, skulls, candles, watches,
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