The devil’s greatest trick, said Baudelaire, was to convince us he did not exist. His fellow poet Lakhrissi is no trickster. A giant daemon mask stands in the centre of his show of pencil drawings and luminous glass ornaments. Biblical horns, wings, and wagging tongues sparsely mark the walls as though they fell from Apollinaire’s rain cloud.
But writing poetry is hard enough. Lakhrissi’s pencil works brim with childlike, pre-verbal charm that tickles a literary tradition. His wall trinkets, however, are garish. They betray the artist’s indifference to symbols and, worse, his sculptural medium.
