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Apatride
André Manoukian © Heliox Films
"The Orient, my grandparents were thrown out. For a long time, I was allergic to its excesses. Until in front of the piano, I was asked: ,Could you play me something Armenian?' A vague melody of my grandmother came back with a hesitant finger ... ,It looks like Satie' ... And here I am browsing new sound territories, armed with Iranian sacred drums, a Turkish cellist, a Syrian singer, an Armenian duduk, rhythms "Alaturka", pushing mental boundaries to draw the contours of a Lost paradise, between Vienna and Samarkand, in search of sparkles of spleen, to find the time of a concert, the soul of my ancestors."
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