The work of Pierre-Augustin Marbœuf is abundant. Divided between human and animal inspiration, it is shaped by a dual premise: upwards—the stars, the sky, possibly an absent God—and downwards—the earth, the body, matter, even nothingness; finally, its emotional register is multiple: anguish, violence or energy, serenity, humor, desire. Yet, even if it arouses desire, we should not attempt to decipher it: art's function is not to convey truths of which the artist has perfect knowledge. Pierre-Augustin admits this: when asked about his creation, he responds by speaking of his artistic practice, his taste for materials, or his emotional biography, and not on a theoretical level. And what's the point of creating if you already know what you're going to say? This does not mean that this work is meaningless or reduced to a play of pure forms devoid of content. There is indeed a subjective universe expressed here, in which we find questions, tensions, and turmoil specific to the human condition. But this "meaning" is experienced by the artist; it is not simply thought out or conceived; it exists only through perceptible forms that are visible and experienced, and it is itself accessible only through the reactions of our bodies or our hearts. Finally, it is relatively open: everyone can recreate it with their own eyes, thus extending the artist's proposal while respecting its mysterious aspects. Faced with this profusion of lunar figures, tranquil fish, or torn shapes, intelligence must therefore be silent: make way for emotion.