Compagnie 7273 has a gift for clever titles, deceptively naïve. A simple proposition, after all, doesn’t commit to anything. However, whether true or false, one must take it or leave it. The dilemma begins, the simplicity disappears and then the poison of doubt creeps in: will there be an agreement at the end of this proposal? Will there ever be an end? Nothing is less certain. The haphazard character of the proposition is precisely what the company 7273 has taken on. It’s ontological fragility. It proves nothing : “proof tires the truth” (Braque).
It is content to be possible, to be admissible. For it maintains a relationship with this truth, with this expected agreement; a partial, fragmentary relationship, part of an original whole that must be reconstituted. As a result, the proposals follow one another, linked together in the necessary order that is supposed to give the object its form and its raison d’être. But the newfound order’s resolution is inevitably side-stepped. Compagnie 7273 exhausts its nostalgia for the outcome: on the horizon, no salvation, but just like Francis Ponge would say, “the rage of expression”.