Clear-eyed about its presence in this dreamlike world, the human figure appears as the sole trace of the artist’s past realism. It is there present, solid but also vulnerable, exposed. It does not merge with the landscape it inhabits; it confronts it. This tension lies at the heart of Voyages Immobiles: being present without acting, observing without intervening, feeling without necessarily understanding.

In a world saturated with stimuli, movement, and noise, the simple act of stopping becomes almost subversive.

The figure depicted by Fournié is not engaged in action; he is immersed in waiting, in resonance, in slowness.

Contrary to what our times might project solitude as a symbol of melancholy or depression this solitude is neither pathological nor negative.

Much like the characters in Edward Hopper’s paintings, it embodies a suspended state, a form of attentive presence.

Here, melancholy is not to be confused with sadness; it becomes a way of seeing, a fleeting moment of reverie.