David Selor
A WORLD OF TALES ON ABANDONED CONCRETE BLOCKS
COURSE
How did you start creating in the street?
I started by doing graffiti, even though at heart it was always a form of drawing. I went from scraps of paper to adding layers of color, then gradually to increasingly elaborate paintings. I don't know if it was truly... creation in an artistic sense, if not a completely disinterested practice. The street therefore appeared very quickly, but without any particular stress, because I only paint on abandoned houses and not on the beautiful walls of the city center.
Your character was born after a very violent reaction you heard in a facility for autistic people. Do you think it was a creation inspired by that experience?
It's true that it was a violent environment, even if it's difficult to grasp without knowing it, and I'm not a special education teacher. There were very few autistic people in that center with whom it was possible to interact. That's why my character doesn't have a mouth, because people there didn't communicate verbally. In fact, Mimil doesn't speak but writes. When I enrolled at the Beaux-Arts (mainly to be able to use the studio, even though I'd already had one in Cognac), I didn't want to change it, even though the professors kept asking me about it.
THE MIMIL
Mimil is a character who seems particularly accessible to children.
When I was a kid, there was a graffiti artist named Seron who came to tag my primary school. The next day, most of it had been erased, but a graffiti piece with a character's head remained. I was shocked that I didn't understand when it had been done, but I was glad the school kept it even though I couldn't read the graffiti. I immediately thought that I wanted to do that later, and that's what led me to graffiti and street art. Children are a great audience, so it's all the better if a calming character appeals to them.
Why did you choose to represent only one character?
I wanted to be able to convey ideas without always writing my name. Before settling on Mimil, I experimented with completely different things, but this character was the one through which I could most easily express myself. Because he has an animal's head and a human body, I can have him adopt human postures that reflect social situations. He's become a kind of signature, but for a long time I painted canvases without including him. Today, it's thanks to him that people call me, and I feel like I haven't explored everything I could do with him. I'm also fortunate that he allows me to reach people unfamiliar with art. The feedback is sometimes direct, even though I mostly receive comments online. It's nice to think that there will be life after the painting, because generally they don't last, being destroyed, vandalized, or repainted.
There is a very gentle imagination in your work, which is close to a fairy tale and is revealed as a parenthesis.
I like the word "parenthesis," but I don't try to create a poetic or dreamlike atmosphere; I simply follow my desires. My approach is free, unpaid, and primarily driven by the act of placing these texts in the street. Most of the time, they have a double, even triple, meaning: everyone interprets them according to their own perspective. A positive message is often seen, even if that's not necessarily my point of view. People in the street don't really have a choice but to see the Mimil; it's imposed upon them, but not malicious.
ASSOCIATE IMAGE WITH TEXT
In your work you combine text and drawing; does the text come first?
This has evolved over time, but originally I really wanted to convey messages; however, if I had only painted text, it would have been considered graffiti, and I would have risked getting fines. Having a visually appealing design helps to avoid that. The more time passes, the more importance I place on drawing, with the aim of improving my visual style. For the text, I often draw inspiration from what people say to me when I meet them in the neighborhood or when I ask them questions, noting the ideas that come to me on my phone. When I paint, I simply draw from this source. In any case, I don't write overly long sentences, so that they contain fewer mistakes on the one hand, and so that they fit on a maximum of three lines on the other. For typography, I try above all to make it legible: I have one in uppercase, quite thin and long, as well as another which is like a child's cursive handwriting.
How do you approach painting? What specific work do you do on the backgrounds?
The line is very important: my style isn't graffiti at all, but rather illustration, thanks to the preservation of this black border. Without it, the result would look more like a painting than a drawing, even though I sometimes prefer to move towards abstraction. Working on the background already provides a surface better suited to spray paint, as brick absorbs a lot of ink. This then allows me to obtain a kind of blank page, while cleaning the surface and adding color, which is more pleasing than a gray or brown base. They were initially a solid color, but gradually I'm adding details: before, I didn't take the time because I thought it required particular attention. I like to paint in a naive style, even though I adapt a lot to the moment. These are things I'll gradually lose as I acquire new techniques, because, not being a naturally skilled draftsman, I practice a lot, especially to study perspective.
Abandoned concrete blocks
Why choose to paint on the cinder blocks of abandoned houses?
Concrete blocks are a godsend: they're not meant to last, but rather to be destroyed. Everyone finds them ugly, so no one seems to mind me repainting them. It also allows me to take more time to complete my paintings. Painting in the street offers an incredible sense of freedom: my goal is to offer people a quality piece, and I'm very happy when a work manages to make a connection.
What is your relationship to the ephemeral when you choose buildings destined for destruction as your medium?
We are all ephemeral, and even if at first it can be frustrating to think that the artwork will disappear so quickly, because it represents hours of work, we soon realize that street art is a very fragile art form, difficult to preserve in a museum because it is unique to walls. Eventually, the paint will fall off, just as paintings eventually disappear, even though they last longer. But in two hundred years, I know that all of this will be forgotten.
Do you feel like you are part of an artistic movement?
I think Street art is an artistic movement that I promote. However, it's a rather vague term because it encompasses very different practices: for example, I consider myself part of it without doing Tagging, Graffiti or Muralism.
Why is the street a unique space for creation?
It's exhilarating to be able to paint large canvases, to play with architecture and paint depending on the surface and its texture. The street also offers its own atmosphere, and I find it inspiring to paint in cities that exude a particular ambiance. I started a long time ago and haven't stopped since. It's also an incredible way to showcase your work. Companies pay for street advertising, but we just have to draw, which sometimes makes people envious. However, I spend as much time in my studio as I do on the street. I think the true driving force behind my work is painting, the love of putting color on a surface, whether it's a canvas or a wall. Whatever happens, even if tomorrow I could no longer make a living from it, I believe I would continue in the same way.
What is your relationship with photography?
I've never understood why photography is considered a minor art form when it's often given such prominence. It's a unique characteristic of street art to be showcased through photography, even though it's difficult to take good pictures. I'm not a photographer, and I often don't photograph my own work, although I do now occasionally in order to archive it. Nevertheless, the act of others photographing it is important, because they are the ones who share and disseminate it.
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