In Suite Vénitienne, Sophie Calle’s first artist’s book—and the crucible of her inimitable and provocative fusion of investigatory methods, fictional constructs, the plundering of real life and the artful composition of self—she notates, in diaristic, time-stamped entries, her surveillance of Henri B. in Venice. She also carefully observes her own emotions as she searches for, finds and follows him. Intentionally losing herself as she wanders the labyrinthine streets of Venice, the city becomes a repository of her desires. She must remind herself that while it feels like she’s in love, she is not; that his elusivity may be more appealing than actually knowing him; and that the gap is wide between her own thoughts and his, which she cannot know.
In Suite Vénitienne, Sophie Calle’s first artist’s book—and the crucible of her inimitable and provocative fusion of investigatory methods, fictional constructs, the plundering of real life and the artful composition of self—she notates, in diaristic, time-stamped entries, her surveillance of Henri B. in Venice. She also carefully observes her own emotions as she searches for, finds and follows him. Intentionally losing herself as she wanders the labyrinthine streets of Venice, the city becomes a repository of her desires. She must remind herself that while it feels like she’s in love, she is not; that his elusivity may be more appealing than actually knowing him; and that the gap is wide between her own thoughts and his, which she cannot know.