Bault
THE WALL AS A GROUND FOR PICTORIAL EXPERIMENTATION
THE STREET AND THE WASTELAND
How did you start creating in the street?
In the 90s, I was very interested in the burgeoning and vibrant hip-hop culture in France. As a teenager, I had the opportunity to go to Toulouse: that's where I saw the first murals, on the railway tracks and in the city center. A kind of Toulouse style was beginning to emerge, encouraged by the activity of many artists. It fascinated me, and I started by imitating them, doing a few tags and going to abandoned places with my friends.
What particular freedom does wasteland offer?
The abandoned space allows for a different kind of reflection and preparation. Here, one paints without pressure, with the sole, almost privileged, aim of experiencing a pictorial adventure in a place whose activity has definitively ceased. There is therefore a historical and social dimension, imbued with an energy unique to each architectural space. It is also the freedom to experiment with new mediums, to try to avoid studio mannerisms or the desire to create merely for aesthetics. One paints quickly or slowly, with finesse or boldness, alone or together: the possibilities for play are abundant.
This also changes the relationship with the public.
To create images in abandoned, residual places is to accept that they will be seen by few people, sometimes by no one at all. The only remaining trace is the photograph. It's up to you whether you share it or not. Going to this kind of place also brings a more intimate, even meditative dimension: it's a place for quiet reflection, a selfless act. There's a magical interlude between the topography of the place, the absence of other observers, and the world that revolves around it.
What do these outdoor spaces offer compared to the workshop?
They allow you to break free from the limitations of a page, depending only on your desire to explore them. They offer a fresh perspective, a monumental vision of the initial sketch. There's also a physical aspect, an engagement involving movement and endurance, playing on an exhilarating relationship with the body and scale. These spaces offer a different way of learning about perspective and space. The surfaces on which we paint in the studio are sacrosanct; they carry a strong artistic weight, a price. They are the product of a longer creative process, whereas the wasteland offers a more ferocious immediacy: new paths can be explored more easily.
Regarding this physical relationship to the act of painting: do you need to enter a particular state of mind when creating?
In my studio, I impose a certain daily routine on myself, alternating between manual work, drawing, and painting, trying to develop coherent series. My state of mind is shaped by these repetitions. I like to alternate between gestural, spontaneous, and unpredictable work and drawing, which requires concentration and reflection. On the walls, one must progress gradually, layer by layer, adopting a more technical and physical approach. The viewer should be able to distinguish the image as a whole and then, upon closer inspection, the details.
IN THE WIND OF ART BRUT
Your taste for Art Brut is often mentioned. How do you balance this spontaneous dimension with a reflection on the deconstruction of the line in your work?
Outsider art is fascinating in its diversity; I often refer to it for the bestiaries I draw, the classifications of characters and machines, the principles of accumulation and superimposition, and the freedom of expression. I say I situate myself within it. «"In the spirit of Art Brut"» Following Jean Dubuffet's expression, the majority of my paintings have no predetermined plan. I begin by creating very small, almost abstract sketches. These are intentions that provide lines of force and visual reference points. Then, I allow a great deal of room for improvisation and letting go. I also try to work with simple, rudimentary tools like the pen or the reed pen, which force me to modify my line, making me dependent on their simplicity and the delightful accidents they generate. From this emerge lines and figures drawn from my personal mythological library, built up over time. My work is a range of influences with varied sources and inspirations, whether they come from Art Brut, African Art, Contemporary Art, or Tribal Art.
Jacques Coursil uses the expression "« of premeditated act or non-premeditation». How will you free yourself from accumulated intentions to develop spontaneous work in response to the medium?
It's the research time that's important: the more you delve into a subject, the more it permeates your subconscious, eventually resurfacing in one way or another in your work almost automatically. It's a daily struggle to try and eliminate a certain mannerism, to avoid falling into the trap of mere pleasantness. I'm not sure I'll succeed, but I don't hesitate to take risks, to step outside my comfort zone. There's nothing worse for me than an artist who endlessly serves up the same old thing and the same thought process. You have to fail, go over it again, make things dirty, create and undo.
You mention the work of Nicolas de Crécy and the search for a certain graphic fluidity allowing one to move in the same drawing from very simple lines to convoluted structures.
I'm more interested in the lushness, inventiveness, and creativity of the world he created. I don't claim to compare myself to him at all, but it's true that discovering his comics, and especially The Celestial Bibendum I was very impressed by the virtuosity of the line work, the stylistic breaks, and the use of color… New York-sur-Loire is a city that one enjoys discovering as the story unfolds, both vibrant and organic. My work has more in common with an illustrator like Ralph Steadman, who creates from splashes of color, or a painter like Dado, who is a curious blend of Combas and Bacon.
Is it your wish not to have complete control over the final result?
Yes, the element of chance is quite significant and often varies depending on the location or the surface. When you paint in an abandoned space, there's no other purpose than your own practice; you're directly confronted with yourself. I paint in detail, so you have to judge the importance of each line and each mass, because you quickly find yourself overwhelmed by unnecessary graphic elements that pollute the overall effect. Letting your line flow in order to be able to surprise yourself is a constant challenge and an endless journey. This element of chance, of the present moment, allows you to evolve in a more experimental field that often leads to discovering new paths. It's important for me to be surprised by my own work and to remain very critical. Everything is planned, but nothing is ever certain when you put it into practice. The initial path often forks. So it's a back-and-forth between the sensory, the immediate, and the time for reflection. Knowing where to start and knowing when to stop.
RESONANCES BETWEEN COLOR AND LINE
Could you elaborate on your gradual transition from black and white to color and your use of color, through combinations of very bright hues that echo the drawing itself.
I've been drawing since I was very young and I've never stopped. One way or another, everything led me in that direction. My father drew all the time; I always saw him working on his watercolors with a contagious curiosity and a meticulous attention to detail. As a teenager, I did quite a few black and white comics heavily inspired by... comics American artists like Robert Crumb and Gilbert Shelton were influenced by the French underground fanzines of the time, such as Matt Konture and Stéphane Blanquet. I consider myself more of a draftsman, with a particular interest in the energy of line. Color came later because I felt like I was just filling space without really enjoying myself. I initially worked in two colors before building my entire palette from a base of primary colors. It became a kind of recipe: I use magenta, cyan, lemon yellow, white, and black. Since I paint without cleaning the brush or roller, I naturally move from one tone to another. Color thus becomes a fully-fledged graphic tool. There aren't really any planes, just hues that harmonize through juxtaposition and saturation. A saturated complementary color will echo a desaturated one. This also allows me to make more radical gestures by sometimes using only certain hues.
You are thus conducting almost two distinct lines of thought in parallel, one on line and the other on color. Does it ever happen that one of the two takes precedence over the other?
Finding the right balance between line work and color application is key. Color sometimes generates shapes randomly, creating figures that the line work merely highlights. It's very playful and surprising.
Do you consider that there is a symbolic dimension in your creations, whether with totems or through pichação, this alphabet from Brazilian Graffiti?
Of course, I try to use symbols that resonate with me and that trigger obsessions, desires to create. I also try to take a sideways look, to employ obscure codes so that opposing symbols can meet and prevent the subject from being obvious or predictable. My interest in pichação also stems from a fascination with older forms of writing, the earliest signs in cave paintings, hieroglyphs, cuneiform script…
AN URBAN PRACTICE
What is your relationship to the ephemeral nature of urban art? What is your relationship to photography?
I have no resentment towards a work that might be degraded or erased by time. That's the inherent nature of art in public spaces. It's also this ephemeral aspect that gives it its value. I primarily use photography as a record of my pieces. It therefore involves very basic elements: framing, lighting, composition. I also archive my iconographic research by theme.
Do you think about the audience when you create outdoors? If so, how will you choose your setting?
Not always; it all depends on whether it's a private commission, an institutional piece, or a street painting. I think primarily about what I want to show, not about who will judge it. I want to present a unique, unconventional style and proudly showcase it in places where its discovery will spark wonder and conversation.
Do you feel like you are part of an artistic movement?
It's clear that urban art has been booming for the past few years. A genuine market has emerged, and a new gallery network has appeared. Many mural artists are now ambassadors of their own work and culture, creating immense murals on buildings around the world. The emerging dynamism of this practice, the professionalization of the field, and the need to consider this energy as a fully-fledged artistic movement are undeniable. An artistic movement with multiple ramifications…
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