Once upon a time there was a magical plant. Its roots were as black as night. Its flowers were as white as milk. In the Odyssey, Hermes offers this bulb to Ulysses to counter Circeus' spells. The antidote brings back to humanity. A few centuries later, in the south of Lyon where River Rhône marks a turn, the population annoyed by the fury of incessant sabbaths, pray so hard that their saint patron goes from the sky down, and under the figure of a young pilgrim, seeded a vegetal which pushs disturbers out. The remedy ensures tranquility. Over time, the beneficial powers of this panacea persists, and all sources agree to call it Moly. Recent pharmacological studies identify this kind of garlic celebrated by ancient mythology and by local beliefs, as the snowdrop, Galanthus Nivalis, which announces spring in the park of our artist-in-residence. At the crossroads of science and superstition, its concoction requires a lot of paraphernalia, this specific tableware as technical than symbolic. Because without object, no worship. It's about containing the sacred. Far from chasing witches, on the opposite, the new exhibition at Moly-Sabata awakens the legends of the nectar with which its name resonates. The group show Cet élixir invites to enchantment, with artworks that activate its ceremony. Fantastic flora, humors and vessels commit us to communion in both climates of contemplation and of labour, peculiar to the place, as under the influence of a charm.
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