Stéphane
Lambion —

is a writer and visual artist from Paris, currently based in London.

soon ::: états du texte #5 : poetry reading at the centre international de poésie marseille forcalquier · 05.12

statement

(b. 1997, he/him)

i am a writer & visual artist from paris, currently based in london.

oscillating between text and graphic elements, my work addresses the themes of memory, identity, nostalgia and loss through the creation of new narrative forms, often derived from the structuring of events on hidden networks of underlying connections and coincidences.

i draw inspiration from the work of artists like sophie calle, anne carson, moyra davey and susan howe.

sometimes none of the above is true.

cv

i am currently completing a pratice-led phd in creative writing & visual art, exploring the narration of illness in non-linear hybrid forms.

i am coeditor of point de chute, a review of french contemporary poetry; i have written for several magazines and worked as an assistant editor at grasset.

i have taught creative writing at aix-marseille university and worked as a supervisor at king’s college, cambridge.

i graduated in arts & literature from the école normale supérieure in paris.

selected visual works

diagonals 1
diagonals 2
diagonals 3
diagonals 4
ups and downs
swings and roundabouts
ebbs and flows
typogrammes

S.K., A.E., A.C., M.D., V.W., S.P., S.S., M.W.
(ink on watercolour paper, 7.4x10 cm)

diane guais and i have never met in real life. from october to february 2024, we asked each other a new question every week. our answers were drawings, poems, excerpts of journals, voice notes, videos. after twenty questions, we decided to put an end to the experiment and publish it.

PAF PAF
PAF PAF

(ink on paper, 20x30 cm)

Days

(print & collage, 20x25 cm)

tbilisi :::

on the dry bridge we
walk between rings and
knives we light a
cigarette four dogs
follow us one of them
hops on the bus

on the streets the
letters dance under
my gaze not even sounds
just images i keep
in my eyes

seven people in the
taxi me on your lap
we go towards new tribes
it’s venice again the
sad october venice

the flat smells of
wood like places
lost relatives gone all
the houses on sale

my thoughts turn
into boulders rolling
between my fingers
like rings like knives

for the first time
in months i see
life close and alive

from the bass-filled stadium
we look at the full
moon i ask if you believe
in magic you say

დიახ

Lost Momentum

 

Lost Momentum
Lost Momentum

as always we look for signs, cycles, things that are connected and make (a) sense, webs of thoughts, lights, words, movements,

we want to find the hinges, the links of a book already written, filled with photos already taken,

we know that behind every coincidence there is rationality and behind rationality there is coincidence so we carry on digging, we reverse,

we take up the conversation where we left it, we see the moon pass then another one again, we don’t want to let go of anything,

we know some of it will have to be forgotten so we walk slower than the first day, we know each other better,

we understand some knots and wait to untie some others

Lost Momentum
Lost Momentum

(handwriting, print & collage, notebook, 10x10 cm)

selected writing — fr

presque siècle (front cover)

presque siècle is my second poetry book, published by the éditions de la crypte in 2022.

it was shortlisted for the apollinaire découverte prize in 2023 and has been reviewed in several magazines (poesibao, pro/p(r)ose, fragile...).

presque siècle (back cover)

selected translations

natalie whittaker

natalie whittaker ::: arbre (verve poetry, 2021) and chiens d’ombre (ignitionpress, 2018), translated from english into french, published by l’ours blanc (2023)

radu vancu

radu vancu ::: 04:00 canti domestiques (max blecher, 2015), translated from romanian and published by the éditions des vanneaux (2019) — excerpts are available in recours au poème and it has been reviewed by pierre vinclair and cristina hermeziu

constant tonegaru

constant tonegaru ::: plantations (1945), translated from romanian and published by abordo (2022) — excerpts are available in recours au poème


between 2022 and 2023 i edited canal, a typographical poster review released every other month, featuring on the same page a poem translated from english into french and one from french into english.

canal is still available to download, and physical copies can be found at the national poetry library as well as its french counterpart, the centre international de poésie marseille.

  • #1 — laura vazquez & alycia pirmohamed
  • #2 — maël guesdon & wayne holloway-smith
  • #3 — emmanuel fournier & natalie whittaker
  • #4 — anna milani & tim liardet
  • #5 — matthieu freyheit & alice oswald
  • #6 — grégoire sourice & mark wynne
  • #7 — célestin de meeûs & clementine e burnley

phd ::: mld

...

in 2021 i started a fully-funded pratice-led phd in creative writing & visual art at aix-marseille university, exploring the representation of illness in non-linear hybrid forms, under the supervision of vincent broqua and stéphane baquey.

for this project i made several creative pieces — including texts published in the online journal remue.net and a videoessay, cléo de 7 à 9.

i am currently working on the final draft.


?

give me three oranges
and i’ll juggle for you

i have a love-hate relationship
to artist statements

i’m still hopeful that
someday i’ll finish my phd

ticket inspectors are up there
in my list of most hated people

“my heart is french
but my arse is international”

the coldest winter i’ve known
was in the south of france

my level of happiness
depends on my ability to cycle

why have a cardamom bun when
you can have a cinnamon one

my most listened song lasy year
was white flag by dido (…)

i was born in brussels
but i’ve never lived there

everything i own
fits in one bag

if you see a green jacket
that might be me

i miss the morning light
on the tuscan hills

i’ve lived in marseille
but have been swum there

i don’t mind mess at all
as long as everything is straight

nothing soothes me like
jahandar’s music

i’m probably on low charge
as we speak

i like it when slowly
it goes beyond 130bpm

still can’t decide if
french press is better than moka

i almost got married
then i came back to my senses

do you want
to grab coffee with me?

few things please me more
than finding the right word

why do i love colour so much
but still draw in black and white

will someone do something
to save the planet please

courgettes and aubergines
are the basis of my diet

the lowest temperature i’ve known
was -19°C

i was raised in a beautiful
city in transylvania you should go

i hereby promise never to use
chatgpt as my therapist

i’ve spent a few nights
in a legal 22 people houseshare

i’m pathologically indecisive
but i’m working on it

i’m so happy and scared
when i climb outdoors

one day in marseille there was
a fridge on the cycle lane

i like those few hours
that are neither night nor day

recently i got confirmation
that solitude isn’t for me

someone please cross out
halloween from the calendar

my biggest fear
is governmental bureaucracy

i miss the morning light
on the chapel across the street

i rate vertical movement
more than horizontal one

few places soothe me more
than small art galleries

i’m still looking for
the love of my life

my mood is incredibly
weather dependent

nothing gets on my nerves
as much as jigsaw puzzles

i was extracted from the womb
with the help of a plunger

my favourite drink
is gin tonic without tonic

i love you so much
for reading this

some days i prefer words
and others i prefer images

why do people have so many
plants in their flats

sometimes i wish
there were more hours in a day

there’s something so nice
about the texture of wood

“it feels like you’re constantly
waiting for something”

i don’t eat dead animals
nor alive for that matter

i have so many
dreams every night

in 1968 i threw foam cobblestones
on angry fake cops

i don’t quite get the point
of sparkling water

my favourite spice
is cumin

do you want
to play cards with me?

i sometimes have an after eight
before eight but i feel guilty

i know the exact weight
of everything i own

i still think about
chloé my kindergarten crush

i love the red bricks
of london’s houses

i often prefer books’ titles
to their content

i’m positively fascinated
by the diversity of flushing systems

“dear Stéphane Lambrion,
thank you so much for...”

why is drinking water
so boring and necessary

i still regret
never having a tamagotchi

i miss the feeling of being
the first one on the ice rink

i don’t quite get
the point of science-fiction

the mere idea of linkedin
gives me a panic attack

i met one of my best friends
in the middle of a forest

i used to take my blood pressure
meds with a double espresso

nothing brings me joy like
a thick woolen jumper when it’s cold

it takes me days to pick a colour
then i change my mind

my worst nightmare
is a crowded british beach

rather than logical connections
i prefer mystical juxtapositions

no i really can’t do
marmite, sorry

according to the attachment project,
i’m “anxious/preoccupied”

i don’t believe in god
except when i’m sick

living in the uk is turning
me into an awkward person

most of what i think is the
contrary of what i used to think

every summer we used to drive
all the way from paris to romania

i’d love to live
somewhere in greece

every year i decide
to get my driver’s licence

do you want
to come climbing with me?

sometimes i dream
that capitalism is dead

my favourite book is
nox by anne carson

i don’t eat dead animals
nor alive for that matter

i have a pink quartz ring
because it’s good for the heart

living in the uk made me
find christmas bearable

for fifteen years of my life
i’ve been told i was a taurus

i often wonder
how one is meant to forget

a passion fruit scoop
and a raspberry one please

i was very sad the day
charles aznavour died

nothing gives me as much pleasure
as a perfect geometrical shape

i tend to forget
to give back people’s keys

according to my pediatrician
i was a “perfect baby”

i both need and hate
what people call coherence


tails

“if i was a writer, and dead, i would so like my life to be reduced, through the care of a friendly and detached biographer, to a few details, a few tastes, a few inflections - let's call them biographemes(r.b.)

head

≋ this website was designed and coded by hand. it is based on simple grid by zach cole and the type is set in space grotesk by florian karsten. it was made between paris, copenhagen, london and cornwall, in august 2023. there were two full months that month ≋