Mr BZ: a double who doesn't speak but says everything

Mr. BZ, he's not just a character I made up to look pretty. He's like an extension of me.

A silent witness. He expresses what I see, what makes me laugh, what pisses me off, what touches me. Where I don't necessarily have the words, he takes over.

The four antennas

On his head he has four bees planted like antennae.

They are not there by chance: each one represents a psychological trait, a facet of our contradictory emotions.

And yes, they look like micro-penises made up as bees. Why? Because it makes me laugh. Because I love that gap between the "oh my, that's really clever humor" and those who burst out laughing at a lame and absurd joke. It's childish, it's theatrical, and basically... that's what's artistic.

Humor that turns dark

With his bee antennas, Mr BZ captures the daily lives of city dwellers.

The subway, work, sleep. The vices we hide (alcohol, sex, drugs). The lies we invent to survive. And this fake life we ​​display on our social media, just to disguise a daily life that sometimes crushes us.

It's funny because it's true. It's also dark because it stings.

A distorting mirror of ourselves

Deep down, Mr BZ is grotesque, mute and endearing.

He looks like me, and he looks like us.

It is the schoolboy joke that slides towards black humor, the laughter that coexists with rage.

Perhaps that is its strength: it serves no purpose other than to force us to face what we would like to hide.

And tomorrow, where is Mr. BZ going?

[Section to be completed according to your future plans for the character]