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The Drawings
est une Galerie et un Portail à venir,
un passage qui mène aux collections de dessins accumulés au fil des
années. Bien sûr, peu sont présents, mais à ne jamais
s'arrêter de griffonner, même quand on ne peut plus tenir un
crayon, les choses se stratifient progressivement et différents
styles se révèlent les uns les autres. Les lignes vont vers une
synthèse de la représentation
figurative, de l'abstraction, de l'expressionnisme et/ou du cubisme à
travers
des caricatures abstraites noires et blanches qui cherchent à mieux
déceler les nuances de sentiment chez les personnages qu'elles
décrivent...
The
Drawings gives you full-access to all Virtual
Galleries and Collections of Drawings (about
120 of them will be displayed along the pages). They define a
brand new synthesis half-way between figurative art, abstract
art,
expressionnism and cubism at the same time. Black and white abstract caricatures
depict subtile ways of feelings. The rectangles actually fits a
circle, but it's another story... I wanted to end up a
cycle and open a door to
something totally new. Make
tomorrow today! |
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The Dove
is a sketch that only took a few seconds to draw, but the process of
creating a dove that could actually fly is longer story. It, in fact, took years to complete.
La Colombe
- a été un dessin quasi instantanné : un seul jet ultra-rapide, mais
faire une Colombe qui marche — et qui vole — a pris des années...
The
first large black and white drawings
were designed in 1990, while on a trip in France, in Versailles, at a
painter's venue where I spent
the night. I had this dream of a hieratic elephant diviny. I draw it
the next morning and it looks pretty much like the dreams a drawing I did
long after. Then I started to draw large Black and White Women, Les Femmes Voilées
that were first exhibited in Paris in 1997...
Le Cœur
Obsolète est un
dessin qui date de 1994.
Il parle de cette désir d'aimer qui s'abime parfois dans un monde où
tant de machines nous dictent des ordres. C'est comme un besoin de voir
l'Amour et l'Homme renaître en lui-même, une envie de saisir sa vie à
bras-le-corps
et de se lancer dans le tourbillon général sans nécessairement
comprendre au départ ce que sera le point d'arrivée et le sens que
cette débauche d'efforts, d'aveuglement parfois et d'intelligence
dépensée, pourra prendre. Sans doute était-il
nécessaire de moins courir et d'aimer davantage, ce que je m'emploie
aujourd'hui à faire...
The
Obsolete Heart
is a drawing about being
tantalized, ripped of the love of your life and even from love
itself that so many men and women experience nowadays... Reaching for
those missing things within yourself lets you reach a
truth that lays in the rest of the society. Greed and the
consumption of goods and human beings only produces inner wreckages.
It's like an urge to red-ink our lifes, to paint all-over them with red
pigments,
passion, generosity, freedom, supreme love against jealousy,
square-minded attitudes, or simply suggest that we sometimes
are compelled to resume as mere objects.
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Sumo
— c'est le portrait géant
d'un sumotori vu de profil en gros plan... On sent la tension qui
précéde l'affrontement, la libération à venir d'une énergie colossale.
C'est aussi un clin d'œil à une passion naissante pour le Japon. C'est aussi
l'allégorie du changement de régime
énergétique que nous sommes en train de vivre... Le destin des
civilisations
peut être analysé en termes thermodynamiques...
Sumo
— is the portrait of a
japanese wrestler. It's a profile and a closeup. It refers to a passion
for the game of Sumo and the changing of
energy cycle. There will be a time, not in a long time, when man
will be able to master the power of the sunlight to produce
hydrogen and electricity. I love to learn about the energy field, and
promote
clean fuels, like hydrogen...
Je
n'est pas un autre
— est une allusion, inverse, à une situation qui n'est pas
toujours une panacée, et qui peut même être torturante, comme un
long dilemne qui se reconfigure sans cesse. Mais à force de volonté, il
est
parfois possible de transformer l'épreuve en quelque chose de
constructif : comme de devenir soi-même, réellement, totalement, dans
une abondance d'amour et de sens qui manque exagérément de nos jours.
Un exemple à suivre, if you want my regard, même si la liberté est
parfois cruelle et qu'il faut parfois lui sacrifier des
parts essentielles de soi-même. Mais la liberté est vicieuse,
et les parts amputées, repoussent... |
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I'm
Not Somebody else
— has witnessed a long period of recovery when poetry and
music secretly collapsed in me, and then healed a broken heart. In
1994, I left for Africa in order to get some rest and think about the
Future : It became obvious that this way of behaving looked like
something familiar to many... It refers — of course — to
famous french poet Arthur
Rimbaud whose wildlife and extralucid poetry changed
french litterature forever. It's not easy being green... Find yourself,
but when you do, time become a sort of fragrance... |
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Le
Voyant
— est un dessin calligraphié exécuté avec une pointe souple
qui permet
de dessiner très vite et de cerner l'esprit des personnages que l'on
cherche à retrouver de façon à approcher le meilleur de soi-même, après
une longue confrontation en face à face. Il fait partie d'une série.
Celui-ci parle plus de la faculté de voir le Futur que d'un
cartomancien. Il est un peu "flou de toi" sur cette image, mais ses
contours réels sont parfaitement tracés sur le papier, comme l'acuité
d'une période de bonheur et de facilité. Face au Silence des adultes,
la réponse était visuelle, fiché derrière les expressions et mystères
de visages portés comme des masques...
The
Clairvoyant Man
— is one of those drawings that are calligraphied with a
brush. This
designing process allows to draw very fast and obtain very strong
contrasts to make essential features emerge in the spirit of the
characters depicted. It's fast, it's hypnotic, it's everything that I
like about drawing. It's about seeing the Future... It's about sensing
the truth within the adults' lies, the answers are hidden behind the
faces
seen as masks, and what surrounded their actual stories.
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The
Dark Visitor — "The Dark Visitor" is a rather simple, almost pristine drawing. It took me years to come to terms with my father’s death—he was only 46 when he passed in 1990. My life, up to that point, had been one of innocent, sun-drenched naivety. As the son of a wealthy man, I basked in the privilege of the present, devoting myself to art, leisure, and love. But you know nothing of Art, Leisure, or Love until you have stared into hell itself....
La
Visite Macâbre — speaks for itself, though its meaning remains elusive. My father died at 46, in circumstances too horrific to describe. His illness was a slow, relentless agony that devoured him—bit by bit—though he had always been a vibrant, joyful man, brimming with intelligence and vitality.
Every blow he suffered, I felt as if it were my own. The pain is impossible to put into words. I wept until I was sick, until it felt like my insides were being torn apart.
Bellepierre Hospital was still under construction at the time; parts of it stood empty, abandoned. There, I screamed my grief so loudly the walls and windows seemed to shake.
When he finally let go, I was in Marseille. My sister and I returned after a sleepless night. For three days and three nights, I didn’t close my eyes. I found myself at the head of the funeral procession, carrying a wreath that must have weighed thirty kilos. That day, I truly understood what it meant to walk the Via Dolorosa—the endless path from the church to the cemetery.
Many old Creoles came to pay their respects; my father would have loved that.
He was deeply cherished by the people of Réunion. Before he died, he had dreamed of building a church in Bagatelle, a small village high up on the Chemin Zig-Zag. I never found the words to speak to him one last time, and he never met the granddaughter he would have adored.
Two years later, I returned to the cemetery where he lies, surrounded by crosses topped with Chinese ideograms and the pink frangipani of the Arab section. There, on his grave covered in dried flowers, I made a promise—and in the end, I kept it.
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