It was born of a nervous gobble. The kind you hear in cartoons when the turkey realises it's the main course. Le Dindomancien is the echo of an animal emblem - too festive to be free, too hatted to be respected. He embodies the Thanksgiving turkey, the one we dress up to forget about, the one we thank before stuffing.
Out of a cartoon that's too fixed, too gloomy, he follows in the footsteps of Bip Bip, but without the momentum. He doesn't run - he already knows he'll end up on the plate. His hat is a grimoire, his feathers are spells, his gaze is that of a magician condemned to predict his own cooking. He's not a turkey, no. It's the Dindomancien, the Great Featherer of Lost Feasts, the prophet of hypocritical banquets.
This work is a satire. A grimace turned oracle. She says: "I draw what I see in the interstices of feasts - the figures we sacrifice to better celebrate." It's a tribute to the absurd, to the caricatured animal, to that night when you dreamt of a world where kings were rats, wise men turkeys, and heroes... never served.
A self-taught illustrator, I create a soft, contrasting universe where the cute rub shoulders with the dark, inspired by deep forests, imaginary creatures and intuition.
My style - which I call 'Chiselled Cartoon' - combines clean lines, discreet symbolism and a minimalist palette. Each illustration is..
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