Imagine a wall studded with stars. There are, at least for now, 111. This precision is important, as their number can change over time and with current events.
These 111 stars represent the people who died on a mission in the service of the CIA. “The truth will set you free.” This verse from the Gospel of St. John is the motto of the American intelligence agency. It is engraved on the left wall of the headquarters of this agency, which has branches all over the world.
In this same hall, a wall: the memorial wall, is engraved with anonymous black stars, all the same size. Every time an agent falls in service anywhere in the world, a star is added to this wall. A star, of course, anonymous, since a spy is nameless. 111 today, how many tomorrow?
The day after tomorrow? No one can answer that. Maxime Bredou’s work takes us into the hall of the CIA building. The exhibition room’s wall is studded with black stars, each one a death, each one a life sacrificed. A kind of homage to these anonymous individuals. The artist, through an article from the New York Times of April 2, 1978, shows us a recruitment advertisement from the CIA. Do you want to be a black star?
Do you want to become a spy? Maxime does not provoke; he shows. This wall studded with stars is by definition an unfinished work by its very nature. Today 111, how many on November 30 when the exhibition curtains close?
Passerby, when you walk past this window on Place Yves Klein, do not count the stars, but think and try to guess who these 111 individuals were. The artist pays tribute to them in his own way; they are, in a sense, unknown soldiers, and the stars are the eternal flames, those of their memory, those of their sacrifice, shining in Langley, purifying flames for these forever anonymous agents. But isn’t this the fate of true heroes?
Thierry Jan
