BIOGRAPHEMES
Who am I ?
I is pure subjectivity (the classics), I is an “other” (Rimbaud), I is contingent (Sartre), the Ego is an irreducible singularity (Stirner), the Ego is situated between the id and the Superego (Freud), etc.
So ? Let’s say I’m a fictional character. It’s like a kid’s game, it’s about finding the hidden picture in the picture. Chance made me be born in Paris. Since my childhood, I was able to explore the Latin Quarter
during a lively historical period, to meet the moving world on every street corner, this was my chance and my heritage. A chance to seize, an opportunity to be cultivated. But we have feet, not roots. And the feet are made for walking. I try not to stop around the corner. It’s barely enough, a lifetime for that.
What can we do in Paris? I have gathered various small fertile knowledge provided by the Sorbonne. Philosophy to understand how things work, and musicology to understand how to sing. Garden tools that help clear the earth, sharpening the senses. Until we realize that doubt is the only valid rule of the game and that we will have to invent new standards since the ones we are served do not suit us.
Creating new standards? To start the project, I wanted to know how to do it. Drawing, painting, sculpting, I had to learn. And to get down to it. Obviously, the great models are a headache. How to get to know them without being crushed by their genius, how to escape them without falling into the worst traps, that was the question.
I don’t like to talk too much about what I do. Where and when I hang it, who’s going to see it, right now I don’t care, I’ll see afterwards. Painters, Z’artists, too often we spot their stuff, systems to cry over – it’s true sometimes, yes. So what do I do? I go somewhere else and try to do things differently.
What I do, for sure, it’s neither street art nor comics nor on the track of anything. The thing to remember is that I have had always a terrible time and it continues
You don’t make it out of this life alive. So, since them, I’ve been running – from drawn to dusk.
I left Paris for the South-East of France.
Then I left France for the Atlas Mountains in the south of Morocco.
Avictor
ArtAmourAnarchie