Cri sur Béton—French for "Cry on Concrete" —captures the visceral language of unseen hands—scratches, smears, and strokes left across the concrete surfaces of the Paris Métro. These unclaimed and unsigned gestures bear the weight of a moment: perhaps frustration, perhaps freedom, maybe nothing more than impulse. They are neither narrative nor decoration. They exist without explanation yet demand attention.

This work is not about content but residue—what remains when the context disappears. The black grunge forms and red overlays echo cries without origin layered into the visual fabric of a city that forgets as much as it records. It is a tribute to the instinct to leave a mark, even when permanence is impossible and purpose is unknown.

In Cri sur Béton, the absence of intention becomes meaning. It asks not why this was done but instead what happens when it is all that remains.