THE HILLS WERE GREEN AND SO WERE WE LORE HORRÉ
THE HILLS WERE GREEN AND SO WERE WE LORE HORRÉ
Tuesday 11.02.14. I’m sitting by the table, carved from chestnut wood. There’s a fruit bowl with four rotten apples and a basket full of walnuts, freshly picked from the garden. In the room an African Grey Parrot is trying to pronounce some words I cannot understand, although I do think he’s trying to tell me something. Little by little we discover the building where we will be sleeping in. The architecture is very static with endless corridors and many small rooms. Although all rooms are alike, none are exactly the same. The former inhabitants left a lot of stuff behind. I don’t think it’s appropriate to touch anything yet, since we’ve only been here for a day. There’s a beauty in the empty rooms that astonishes me. An unrecognisable silence I’ve never felt before makes me both shiver and calm. It almost feels like someone is watching every step I take. It’s a strange feeling walking in someone else’s past. We were standing in the kitchen of the second building. Everything was clean, but nothing seemed to be put in place. I had this strange feeling, like any moment someone could walk through the door and continue living here. The whole day I never felt alone in this building, although I could not see anyone except for Iphygenia. I wanted to leave. Immediately. I was too scared. My body could not handle it. Monday 24.02.14. I’ve seen every corner in our room a thousand times. Still I feel like I need to discover something new. When I look out of the window I see two Magnolia trees. This kind of tree has never seemed so beautiful to me as they do around here. Especially when their white flowers glimmer in the moonlight. The nature changes with every blink, that’s something I’ve learned here. Tuesday 11.03.14. We’re sitting right in front of each other. The room is pretty big and cold. We named it the ballroom. For twenty minutes we say nothing at all. I start focusing on the silence. It’s hard to not think of anything. But then I realise I can’t remember what I’ve been thinking about. I become very aware of every little part of my body. It feels odd. While we’re sitting the camera is recording everything. The slightest movement, every shuffle.
Thursday 13.03.14. When I wake up and see the image of our room. The bears on the wall appear as blurred grey spots illuminated by the little light in the hallway. The night slowly changes into day, and the morning sun gleams on my skin. Today our morning routine starts at nine. We step into the little bathroom and shower one after the other while one of us is guarding the door. We were too scared to do it on our own. Today we visit the building on the other side of the grounds. Cautiously we walk down the stairs that lead into the cellars. I try to turn on the light without any result. In my pocket I search for my flashlight. The first room I light up is filled with empty bottles of wine, a bit further we find almost demolished showers. The darkness of the frigid corridors and all of the dead insects and cobwebs makes me fearful. Wednesday 26.03.14. We wake up at nine. Yesterday two lambs were born, and we wanted to see them immediately when our eyes opened. The two little creatures were given our names. But fate wasn’t with us. They died during the night. We felt sad. It felt unfair. Their mother created them so beautifully but they only existed for a few hours. Thursday 10.04.14. We walked in the dark woods. It’s almost nine—not at all that late in the evening, but it feels like the middle of the night. The moonlight glitters through the forest. I can barely discern forms through the darkness. My eyes give me the impression of staring at a hazy blue image. Along the asphalt we hit a narrow path towards the amphitheater. All that was calm at the beginning, was now engulfed by fear. A flashlight shines in all directions while the birds flee from the trees. I’m startled by the noise they make flying through the leaves of the woods. I take Iphygenia by her arm / my head hidden in my scarf. Friday 11.04.14. Once I never believed I would miss this place. Along with the days, my fear faded away. I remember all these anxious moments when my heart nearly stopped beating. Now they seem useless. Being here and living here, I discovered a beautiful silence / A beautiful darkness. Don’t let me leave. Just yet.
This book contains images made by myself, made in collaboration with photographer Iphygenia Dubois and found footage of Les Oblats de Marie-Immaculée. Special thanks to Iphygenia Dubois. I wanted to thank you for everything. For everything you’ve done with me. For everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t have made this work without you. There are no words to tell you how grateful I am. Marc Foulon & Les Oblats de Marie-Immaculée. Annelies de Mey and Willem Vermoere, School of Arts Ghent. Alexander Saenen. My parents.
THE HILLS WERE GREEN AND SO WERE WE is part of MAGNOLIA, in collaboration with Iphygenia Dubois. © Lore Horré, 2014 Design Kahil Janssens Print Ryhove, Gent