Joseph Brodsky’s advice—“do not leave your room, so
as not to make a mistake”—clearly echoes the thought
of Blaise Pascal, even if it is not a poetically reworked
quotation. The creator of probability theory and
philosopher of insoluble contradictions also placed his
hopes for salvation in an ideal room. In his view, the root
of all evil lies in the human need for diversion. "All of
man’s unhappiness stems from one thing: the inability to
remain at rest in a room », he wrote in his “Pensées” in

I have always been fascinated by the great tradition of
20th-century Russian art—from Malevich to Bulatov—
which pursued a quest for ideal space. Yet, this
exhibition is not about a boundless, transcendental, or
suprematist infinity, but rather a specific, confined
space: the much-coveted “Pascal’s room.” I enter this
space with mixed feelings, where hope intertwines with
anxiety and skepticism. Wandering between imaginary
walls—my mind a blend of the visual artist’s and the
writer’s, accustomed to works where contours and colors
form a visual narrative (poetry, philosophical reflection)
—I encounter various interlocutors: figures from fairy
tales or childhood stories, Paleolithic animals, stones,
ancient heroes, and even ordinary houseplants.