In Barbieri's images of the Seychelles, there is nothing to remind us that this glittering archipelago takes its name from the minister of finance under Louis XV - one Monsieur Moreau de Seychelles, representative of a world that is forgotten the moment you step ashore. The only absolute ruler here is the sun, casting patterns on naked skin through the palm fronds, or perhaps the trade winds that stir the almond trees and send the sand dancing over the beach. Surely it's no coincidence that this is the home of the coco-de-mer, or sea coconut, whose fruit so closely resembles the mount of Venus, while the blossoms are unmistakable phallic. On the Seychelles, it is said that at night these plants do exactly what their form suggests they might. And that is what Barbieri's photographs seem to be saying too...Every page in this book whispers sensuality.
