Ben Jack Nash presents Leftovers from the Void, an artistic project at the Reichshoffen synagogue (in northern Alsace). Installation in two parts, in this former place of worship, it goes unnoticed for a certain time during the exhibition. Is the work of art a remainder? In any case it reveals what still persists and what still remains of the building and, without doubt, its aura - if not its soul. But what is the void revealed by the remains of this work? Shaped by history, inhabited by memory and forgetting, constructed by time, certain places are devoid of emptiness. This can be said for the Reichshoffen Synagogue, even though it remained unused for over fifty years. However, no place is ever completely empty, even those that appear as the pristine white cube [gallery space]. Yves Klein illustrated it in 1957 at Colette Allendy then in 1958 at Iris Clert during his exhibition The Specialization of Sensitivity in the Raw Material State in Stabilized Pictorial Sensitivity. Klein covers the white walls of the gallery. The monochrome becomes, under the guise of criticism, “an exhibition of the void” suggesting above all a spiritual journey, a dive into the “invisible pictorial sensitivity”. It is in no way a materialization of the void. However, to be able to see or perceive this “invisible sensitivity” (pictorial or not), the white space must be reconstituted. Yves Klein used welcome and reception systems to achieve this, from the choice of the invitation card to the color of the cocktails served at the opening - all in blue. It is only by relentlessly conditioning visitors and directing them towards the color blue that they will be able to detect the presence, the soul or, as Yves Klein preferred to say, the aura of space and light. 'artwork : “This invisible pictorial state in the gallery space must be in all respects so far the best definition of painting in general, that is to say its aura. Invisible and immaterial, if the creative process is successful, this immaterialization of the painting must intervene on the sensitive bodies or vehicles of the visitors with much greater effectiveness compared to typical and ordinary visual representational canvas paintings, whether figurative , non-figurative or even monochrome' This study of the immaterial was for Yves Klein an important journey in determining the essence of a work of art and one that has the capacity to deeply move the viewer. He believed that this essence comes in the form of invisible forces emanating from matter and has significant emotional power. Denys Riout writes that Yves Klein sought “to identify and name the active force which distinguishes a work of art from others when he owns it”. The journey undertaken by Ben Jack Nash for almost two years around the Reichshoffen synagogue revisits part of the work of Yves Klein around the void and in particular the “non-empty” of a place relating to the immaterial, a sensitivity and an aura that is sometimes visible, sometimes invisible but nevertheless perceptible despite everything. “What is not visible is not invisible” is the title of a work by Julien Discrit, a neon which takes up the elaborate codes of Joseph Kosuth or Lawrence Weiner and denies the neutrality sought by conceptual artists. Each in their own way suggests that what is not visible is not necessarily absent, that it is only empty for those who do not see beyond the surface. However, unlike Klein's research, Ben Jack Nash's work at the Reichshoffen Synagogue is less about revealing invisible, operative forces in the artwork, but rather in the building itself. It was built in 1851 and for the dozen Jewish residents still residing in the village after the Second World War served as a place of worship until the death of the last official in 1967. The synagogue is currently undergoing rehabilitation, thanks to artistic interventions sponsored by the CIBR (Israelite Consistory of Bas-Rhin). These artistic projects are an opportunity to reopen it to the public and above all to discover it in an alternative way to the usual purely historical and heritage discourse. Ben Jack Nash's project produces two installations that focus on two parts of the building: its objects and its light. Although it is empty, several objects have been preserved (benches, a bain-marie, a candelabra, prayer tablets, a mekhitsa and a stone hand sculpture of “donation”. They testify to certain functions of origin of the building, but which are not evident from the exterior architecture. The light passing through the stained glass windows is projected onto the ground in yellow, ocher and white and reveals the orientation of the building with the choir facing east East. The two Ben Jack Nash installations are separated by light and shadow on two sides of the building to the right and left of the main aisle. They are revealed in two stages and two movements. This binary system imposed by Ben Jack Nash questions our vision, propelling the visitor from the invisible to the hyper-visible by revealing the true artificial nature of what seemed so real. Before describing the work of Ben Jack Nash and keeping in mind the connection with that of Yves Klein as above, it is important to understand it in the context of the journey from the invisible to the hyper- visible. Imagine that there are a dozen of you in front of the synagogue. It's your first time entering it, you've only ever seen it from the synthetic exterior which hides its true function - as is the case with many rural synagogues. The surface area of ​​the synagogues is approximately 150 m2. (17.3 m long by 10.75 m wide). On the first floor, two painted balconies tell us about the separation between men and women during service. On either side of the central aisle, several rows of wooden benches face the bimah, placed on a raised platform. The light comes from the right reflecting on the ground. The shadows of the prayer tablets hanging at the front of the room resonate with the painted traces of the ancient columns surrounding the altar. A deep silence reigns there, which undeniably recalls the spiritual character of the place, but also the tragic history of the Jews of Alsace and Europe a little over half a century ago. Some places speak for themselves. After staying in the space for a short time, there is silence and nothing moves, not even the reflections of light on the floor. The staff members begin to move slowly but with precise determination. They move the first object, then the second then the third from their base. Despite their movement, the shadows of these objects remain in place, frozen. Subterfuge. It is then the stained glass windows facing the left which are boarded up one by one without their reflections on the ground disappearing. Shouldn't I have realized this sooner? Shouldn't I have noticed in front of the windows that my shadow was not projected on them? Plus, come to think of it, shouldn't the light at this time of day be coming from the other side? From the other side! What (mis)understanding do I have of the most ordinary natural phenomena? My orientation in space? The existence of my body on Earth, in this place? The melancholic calm of the place has just been replaced by a storm, a storm of questions but above all of doubts. What appeared to me as truth was in fact an artificial illusion. Plato warned us against this. I saw this place without realizing it, without realizing my place without questioning the memory that inhabits it. Ben Jack Nash's sculptural gesture falls somewhere between James Turrell, Claudio Parmigianni and Giuseppe Penone. It is located between Mendota Stoppages (1969-1974), the Delocazione (from 1970) and Respirer l'ombre (2000). The artist is part of this family of “inventors of the place” as Georges Didi-Huberman designated him in his trilogy. He is part of this family of sculptors who, through light, shadow and/or traces, are constructors of places 'construct places where seeing takes place'. Artificial shadows and light reveal themselves as illusory games that make us more aware of our body - of our present and yet also absent self. They ask us to place our bodies in space and time. To find their place and perhaps engrave them in history. Above all, they bring out memory. Unlike history, memory only exists in the present moment, here and now - which makes it so fragile. Visible? Invisible? Ben Jack Nash's artistic experience is above all sensitive and disturbing.