Francofunny
about how to use with a certain delight the weird occasion of being locked at night inside the new building of Office International of the Francophonie, emptied of all the ministers and presidents that just finished to inaugurate it that day _ hence the red carpet.
This was me and Julia, who is part of the team at 2Roqs, having some fun after the nice projection we successfully completed at the OIF building. More about it here:
"Gravity" inaugurating the new building of OIF
Painting in progress
It began really fast, I made the underpaint in a matter or 4 or 5 painting sessions, but now it's getting a bit slow with the fat paint layers, all the detailing and those sparse schedules. Sigh... But it's looking good still. I hope to finish it soon !
some sketches
A drawing of a place where I once felt good, in the countryside. Calm, bright, peaceful, with the special light of sunny sunday mornings. Lake view and even ivy going down the ceiling; perfect.
Doodle of a mouse who caught itself in a bucket left is the studio. There I learnt mice should be drawn the exact same way that we were taught in nursery school: a cone, with whiskers.
Pensées jetés
un mot abandonné retrouvé sur un petit carnet, 10 Octobre 2009, écrit-il
Toi qui me dis que tu apprends le français, et qui re-demandes ce tatouage de ma griffe à graver dans ta peau. Tu sais peut-être déjà que je ne le peux pas, mais tu essayes encore, tentant comme tu le peux, de ta petite voix, de ton grand Lointain, de me rappeler à Là où je peux encore donner quelque chose de fort, de l'ordre de l'esprit et de L'Amour. Petite fée, joli minois, tu es encore ici la Reine de tous mes rêves, l'appel vers les contrées où l'on n'existe qu'enveloppés de Lumière.
Pourquoi le Pragramatisme, garant de notre pain et de ce fait, de notre survie, est-il aussi de notre Humanité le plus grand ennemi ?
Toi qui voudrais qu'ensemble on s'élève, mais tu ne sais sans doute pas que s'élever vers un Ciel c'est un acte de Chute, car il nous faut tomber.
Tomber Amoureux. Tomber dans la tombe, tomber des étages, les dessous, le fond des êtres, tomber la veste, tomber dans l'excès.
Et contemplant ma fenêtre je pourrais sauter d'un étage juste pour affirmer que je sais combien il est beau d'être vivant, mais être vivant est le plus souvent interdit;
La gorge se serre en même me temps qu'un râle sourd, que la rage de crier, pour tous ces jours que j'ai laissés à l'abandon, alors que l'on peut vivre si fort si l'on ne craint plus les frontières de nous-même.
Pourquoi faut-il hélas que je me saoûle pour écrire ces quelques mots ?
Et puis finalement, avec un peu de recul, le grand lointain, ce n'était pas si loin.
Cartes postales démodées
Here we are at the end of a long period of absence from the surface of the internet _ worse: from the world of arts_ although by searching thoroughly there could be some remnants of ancient craftsmanship that could get dug out in order to feed this abandoned blog.
If web pages would get covered by ivy, invaded by weeds, and conquered by lizards and crickets, then we would enjoy to forget them on purpose for a few months, so that they lose a part of their digital coldness.
To begin with the repopulating, we have to rewind back to July ( I will move this article to this date to avoid those blank months when browsing my journal! ). Claire and I had managed to block two weeks in a row to go backpacking around the greek islands. Among my spare belongings I was carrying a postcard-sized watercolor paper bloc, as well as a tube of ochre and another of black.
The first postcard is a view of Sifnos island ( Σίφνος _ just for the pride of showing my awesome knowledge in spelling Greek ). The old fashioned color scheme that I've chosen allow to stay in the continuity of some postcard drawings I did before, but it certainly doesn't translate the mood of the Cycladic Island which are thoroughly blue and white. Our room in the minuscule village Kastro had a bird's eye view of the amazing sea far below. Those dwellings on the postcard were on our left side facing the horizon.
On the second postcard, we have some stones remnants lying in the shadow of a tree on the Asklepieion site, on the Kos island. It was sightly away from the impressive place were Hippocrates took his famous oath. The air was really hot and dry, and the midday sun was casting the brightest light all over the place. Under this ancient tree was a haven.
Here somebody caught me while drawing :)
Below is a view of a temple and byzantine church in Lindos, on Rhodes island. There again, a magical place, were one feels privileged, a pencil in his hand, to be able to witness from above both the bluest sea and two centuries of history. ( I didn't take the time to color this drawing yet )
The last one is our backpacks; I painted them on the ferryboat deck ( the place where you get thoroughly covered with oil). I didn't always have enough time to complete the postcards on the sites, so I used the often very long boat transits to continue with the inking and the coloring.
I also made a few other watercolors there, but nothing worth being shown actually.
Below is a last one that has nothing to do with Greece. This is a view of Bordeaux, its most famous square the "Place de la Bourse", when one looks up. The reason why I didn't finish it is that they turned off my model's lighting at 1AM. I guess I will have to go back to it someday.
... That's it, we're done ! :)
Dominique
I made this portrait of my friend Dominique at his workshop, in a remote, beautiful and secluded barn in the country.
He is a painter specialized in the creation of murals.
When working on canvas, he uses to pin them directly on the wall, which shows the traces of dozens of previous artworks that were completed in this place.
Although it wasn't much easy to achieve the portrait for he wasn't standing in stillness, it was a pleasure to witness the artist at work, and a simple, peaceful, yet deep moment to share.
en enfance
It had been a long time since I last went to the home of my childhood. It was still there, wrapped in the greenest nature. After a long day of hard work digging ground and breaking stones, I used a relaxed sunday to sit under the hazel tree and paint the garden's entrance. I used pigment ink for the lines and ocre watercolor for the values.
My parents often have some strange things to show, and sometimes of those items that have the touching, somehow magic effect of the old-fashioned objects.
Really our electronic technophile world didn't produce such treasure as this archaic-looking device. Guess what, this thing peals apples, removes their core and cuts them into slices, in nothing more than a few turns of crank.
(then it became the model of my second little watercolor of the day)
