(...) “I dreamt of a map that in no way corresponds to the topography of the island, which is anything but the topography of the island, which will never serve me. (…) I spend days filling up leaves, the few leaves I have left from my shipwreck. I blacken them without knowing exactly why. But, what scares me the most is that I indulge in this filling with a safety that is astonishing, as if I knew by heart the place I mapped, as if this place really existed. This artificial topography ends up having an existence that I did not suspect.” (…)    

© Éric Suchère 1995, excerpt from French text in the artist book le topographe, Éditions Cardinaux, Châtellerault, France.