Author: Sophie Calle
Colour photography and text on aluminium, framed.
120 x 170 cm, 50 x 50 cm (text).
French Edition.
“I nearly got married to a man who had been posted to China for three years. That's a long time. Like a fiancée whose betrothed is bound for the front, I wanted to marry him on the runway at Roissy airport, just before he left. The groom would step up into the plane as I stood on the tarmac. The reception would be held without him and I would spend my wedding night alone. We set the date for October 7, 2000. Negotiations with the airport authorities, mayor's agreement to officiate, licence, guest list, dress everything was ready. Until a letter from the state prosecutor arrived refusing permission. Weddings had to be celebrated on municipal premises, with two exceptions: hospital, in the likelihood of imminent death of one of the betrothed, or prison. So, town hall, jail, agony, these were our choices. Banal, radical or tragic. Still, on October 7, I did go to the airport to wear my dress, just once, and to grieve for our wedding. And I did go back home alone, as planned.”