photo Pierre Laniau
photo Pierre Laniau

on the endless road,
on the road between her two sisters,
the little hope steps forward.

This is she, this little one, that drives it all.
For faith only sees what is,
And her, she sees what will be.
                            Charles Péguy

When I paint, I search with relish the anomaly and the cohesion, the singularity, the time lost, the straying, I try the certain and the uncertain. Like a jazz improvisation, I create “grids” for myself through the course of my practice. With diligence and uprightness, I obey my desires, moods, fads, frenzies, keeping the maximum enjoyable spontaneity in the execution and the result. And this inevitably involves the pleasure of “painting” matter: pure colors and unique blends, the matte, the thickness, the lightness, the transparency, the footprint of an object, the drawing of a spray paint, dark circles, solids, the touch of the brush, a wide brush, a small brush, the happiness of slow, quick, careful, violent gestures, gestures of friction, of load, of water…

The workshop is for me where no one restrains my freedom, my appetite, my sensuality and my contradictions. I organize time and space as I feel for my work. Wherever I reinstall my workshop, Paris, Lecheria – Venezuela, Houston – Texas, the life of the canvas forces me to respect the time and pace of achievement. This forces me to tame this dear bubbling that life maintains and that I love. I seek good external movement and good inner energy that give me the formula for my desires. Only the canvas leaves me my fancy, my pleasure, the oblivion and a rebelliousness disguised in obedience. I then try to leave the spirit of my canvas exist without letting the result blind me. I need time, space to search and get the right concentration. I paint several canvases at the same time, so that every intervention has time to dry, to mature, to give its results. All the paintings exhibited in the workshop enable a dialogue between the canvases which helps me clarify my thoughts and senses. My ideas become clearer, they enrich themselves. A canvas, compared to its neighbor, reinforces the character of one of them, leaves a void, overloads the other. The qualities of one help me see the needs of the other. This round of canvases, that teases my imagination, is a beautiful and scary trigger. The canvases, combined with one another, progress, bloom and mend each other’s ways.

There are jubilant propositions given by painting “matter”, rules required by the workshop (time and space), and my temperament to guide me in this production. This creates a tension between liberation and control, and like any artist, it is this felicity I seek. The tension can be pleasant or unpleasant, but it must be there for the painting to exist. The existence of the senses reinforces the meaning of existence.
To end the canvas, I look for something unexpected, singular and enjoyable. This meets my satisfaction criteria.

My tastes and desires, to which my rule is to obey instinctively, were built during my life at the School of Fine Arts in contact with museums and painters. As a teenager, I loved Odilon Redon. Later, Albert Oehlen and the German expressionist painters. Lately, I look at surrealist painting with its spooky delirium, as well as drawings such as those of Jockum Nordström, Jorge Queiroz, Cy Twombly, or Henry Darger.

When I end my canvas, it must still exist outside of me. Sometimes, hope continues its path and it is for the one who looks to find her magic. The canvas is no longer mine. When the magic is there, I dare have faith in hope.