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Foucault…a first name, a pseudonym…visitors, internet surfers, lovers
of art , non-conformists, this site is for you to see fragments, bits
and pieces, in short, a site that resembles me.
In
the shadow of the Sphynx.
I was born in Cairo, in the shadow of the Sphynx, December 1st 1945.
My birth resulted from the encounter between my atypical , bohemian,
camel riding father. lover of the desert, an egyptologist of sorts,
writer and cartoonist from Toulouse, and my mother, an elegant Egyptian
who lived a life that bordered the Orient and Europe, going back and
forth between Egypt and France, the vistas of Greece and the beaches
of Alexandria. Somehow she landed in the Latin Quarter of Paris. She
was young, exotic and carefree, emerging from a distant backdrop of
dimn memories, uncertain plans and remote thoughts of ancestors… Pacha,
Bey, devilish, moustachioed men, Orientals with a European twist.
The Return to France.
Sometimes good things happen by pure chance… I had moved to France by
the age of one and a half. First we went to Marseille, then Toulouse,
then Paris and finally Meudon. This flashback reminds me of white ties
and purple ink, congratulations for the others and cleaning up after
school for me. I was a champion at changing schools on a regular basis,
happily going from one to the next, and I still remember, the sleepy
memory comes back to me of the little boy trying to apply himself. Sometimes
I thought I might keel over and die from the work and from the sheer
quantity of dreams in my mind. This drama was interminably taking place
while the chalk scratched along the blackboard while my already wandering
gaze drifted over towards the little girl next to me.
Further
Studies.
Finally I got to a higher level of education.. . Like a mosaic
I see, Christian brothers, the old brick buildings. I liked the huge
buildings with long noisy corridors that smelled of wax, the labyrinth-like
structure, the beauty of the garden, the closeness of the railway that
went along the garden walls. I loved the teacher who took us to see
the grandeur of nature at the water mill in Froyennes. That was a teacher
who loved art and saw it in so many things. Those were great years boarding
at school, getting together in cafes at Tournai in Belgium, drinking
way too much beer, although it is well known that a good drink can also
stir the imagination. This was a great era of interminable discussions
during which the greatest of all subjects was always art. I graduated
in June, 1965 from the Saint Luc Institute of Tournai with a diploma
in Graphic Design.
Kabyl
This period marks an unexpected parenthesis ; a year of volunteer
work in Djemila, (area of Constantine) in a what is today called N.G.O. Beautiful
Djemila with her sister city Setif…. Places filled with history, and
not so easy for a youngster such as myself at the time to feel the weight
of the Algerian war. It was a rough experience to be parachuted with
a minimum of comfort and little training into a fragile international
structure, isolated, perched at this mountainous edge of the world,
with no traveler’s guide or manual of local customs, not even a miniscule
prayer mat. Nevertheless, I was stimulated and impressed by the Kabyl
dignity, the smell of upturned earth and for all the world I wouldn’t
have wished to be anywhere else. What remains as most certain for me
today is that that reality brought my own world into focus.
Beaux Arts
1968. A brief interlude ; two years at the Beaux Arts in Paris.
The initial curriculum which consisted of « copy and paste »
exercises in the style of the teacher did not do much to convince me.
By my nature I felt very distanced and even allergic to the overdetermined
space, with its petty antagonisms, all the more so because of the subversive
climate going on outside. If anything, it was the perfect time to truly
put everything into question and find new rules for this non-space.
To paint and to live without fear of institutional power struggles,
to dare to screw up and start again.
The
Day to Day.
Freelance graphic designer, publicity conceptualist, illustrator….
Struggling against boredom, against a temporary feeling of alienation
that comes with the day to day. Frankly, there are days I’d rather be
at the beach !
The
Studio.
I now work as a painter and I live and work outside of Paris. In this
space of intuition, I spend my time troubleshooting, fighting battles
with destiny, exploring new territory. My studio is like an island ;
an ivory tower surrounded by the city yet isolated from fashion trends
and the usual Parisian hupola. It is also totally removed from the countryside
with it’s bees and it’s cows… My magic studio, I love this workspace,
it’s relative distance ; I love Francis Bacon, Egon Schilele, Niki
de Saint Phalle, Ousmane Sow, Enki Bilal, Georges Brassens, Serge Gainsbourg,
Manu Chao, Souad Massi, Lhasa, la Fata Morgana, le Saint Amour, and
even at times, the company of other people.
The
Eye of the Painter
I take the time to understand what’s important to me in painting
as in life. I paint individuals that are very different . These figures
lead me further toward abstraction and all that is elusive, including
myself. My pictures are like a complement to reality ; something
that comes added to what is already invented. The image is invented
in part by the observing eye in suspended time. The photos bring another
dimension to the painting so that the photographed subjects blend into
the canvas. The work comes alive through the eye of the observer, which
has been drawn into the painting and invited to share this intimate
space. The painter shows us what the naked eye cannot see. The work
is revealed in an explosion of visual thoughts that have been given
individual spin by the onlooker that is ready to embark on this critical
journey that leads from time to time to the same place as that of the
painter himself.
On the one hand I’m a perfectionist, but on the other, I seek a form
of expression that remains spontaneous. Painting is like playing with
a fantastic form of urgency. At the same time I like it best when the
effort remains invisible ; I provoke what seems like total chance
and I shun spectacular effects. My painting is a transcription of life
in that I refute figurative renditions of landscapesor imaginary characters.
I feel like a theatre director of unreality and the author of a script
that has no end. The paintings are the fruit of an interior process
that remains unique but open to unexpected perceptions. I search for
the picture that resonates best with my own creative tension and with
that chord that vibrates in me with an invisible constancy. I don’t
explain the work as I don’t explain the world. I paint what is to me
its ferocious passion, disorder, solitude and beauty. There is no message
except of that moment that crosses over into the day to day.
The Gallery
Shows, galleries, artistic events that go from group shows in the Grand
Palais in Paris to the shores of Florida, unusual spaces , private spaces,
or simply opening the atelier to visitors ; these are the ways
that I fulfill my desire to communicate and to share when the studio
space seems too small a place. Today many artists, collectors and lovers
of art ask what is the future of art ? These questions reveal themselves
in art shows that go from classical to contemporary and that remain
esoteric, conceptual and even polemical. In this way new horizons can
be perceived but especially when contempoary artists pave the way for
new forms of representation that point the way toward the unexpected.
The Atelier
Hors les Murs
The atelier hors les murs phase, 1972, remains somewhat separate. During
this time I created several mural paintings of which one was 330M2 in
Choisy-le-Roi at a time when urban art was relatively new. All over
the signs read « Please post no signs, no bills » , so the
climate was not exactly conducive to art ! Through this link to
the city’s urban fabric, I also sought a special relationship with its
people. I temporarily lost the sense of artistic solitude and found
a way of becoming part of the city’s architecture while preserving my
own authenticity. There was the initial festive launching of the project
with the local city planners and urban architects. Each voice served
not to censure but to complement the others by analyzing the full array
of possibilities. It became important to me not to simply decorate the
public space but to affirm a personal vision. This is where painting
becomes about taking risks. In an underpriviledged neighborhood, it’s
not about sticking pretty wallpaper onto the buildings. I was interested
in the multiplication of possibilities surrounding the itital themes
of people, the city and art. In these projects the artist has an extraordinary
vantage point for observing and participating in the shifting urban
landscape and how it changes against the background of the sky.
Mural Painting
1973 was a year for many projects : the creation and overseeing
of school mural projects at the Marc Chagall and Pablo Picasso Nursery
Schools In Meudon-la-Forêt as well as in the Henri Matisse recreation
center, assisted by Olivier Gourvil and Dominique Heidenger. In 1977
there was another project in Choisy-le-Roi, this time in a shopping
mall covering a 330m2 dimension and assisted by Denis Barbelet. In 1978
there was a project in a dental office in Paris. In 1979, it was the
Jean Moulin C.E.S in Meudon-la-Forêt. Also in 1979 the « Batimat »
show with the research group on architectural arts spaces in Paris.
In 1981 and 1982 I worked with students on a group project at the school
for special educators in Buc in the Yvelines. In 1984, there was another
mural piece based on the children’s drawings at the Jardies nursery
school in Meudon.
Foucauld PAUTARD
L'ATELIER HORS LES MURS
4
Place Gabriel Péri
92310 SÈVRES
FRANCE.
Tel
: +33(0)6.03.26.12.70
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