Two very small things have emerged simultaneously, in the Association’s “Patte de mouche” collection: Satie by Jean-Yves Duhoo and the plotters by Jean-Luc and Philippe Coudray. On the one hand, a science popularizer takes a breather in the form of little wordless poems about the composer in the seven velvet suits. On the other, two comic book poets wander astride a pseudo-scientific reasoning that wanders from cause to effect like a headless hen. We read them separately of course, they were not designed to respond to each other and yet a delicious absurdity connects them.
In Satiewe find the facetiousness of the page dedicated to Duhoo, in the excellent magazine of comics for children cosmic capsule, to the skillfully mythomaniac rantings of “Uncle Ho” who explained to you that camels fit together by the bumps and that the piano descends from a woolly animal called pianosaur. The composer catches a sparrow in a soap bubble, walks on his hands, slurps up a flying dissonance to make a cigar out of it, very satisfied – it’s all fictitious, of course, but each skit could be one of those strange little pieces and always slightly amused by Satie. The conspirators of the brilliant Coudray twins, he leaves from the mists of time – “Once upon a time, the Druids possessed an esoteric science of nature” – and enjoys seeing the conspiracy everywhere, “today’s scientists” to “priests of a very ancient religion” passing by the devil, the dead or even the extraterrestrials who, as everyone knows, have “genetically modified humans”. All these occult forces conspire behind each other in Dali-like settings, sumptuous little quirks in perpetual motion. Two mini-leaks from reality, one with a mustache, the other with tentacles, devilishly successful.