Don Mateo
SEARCH FOR ABSTRACTION IN CUTTING
COURSE
How did you become an artist?
I initially pursued vocational studies that weren't right for me. Following that, I realized I needed to take control of my destiny to do what I wanted and find fulfillment. At first, the only thing I enjoyed was doodling in the margins of my notebooks, so I decided to go to art school. This led me to find myself in 2003 in a completely unfamiliar environment, and I remained there until 2008. After graduating, I didn't stop creating, as art had become my primary means of expression. However, I don't know if that's when I became an artist. It's a complex question: is there a specific moment when one becomes an artist, a pivotal date? I know the moment I decided to forge my own path in the arts, but I don't know if the moment when I became an artist truly exists.
When did you start working on the street?
I was already working on portraits before art school, but during my studies I did very geometric and abstract painting, and a lot of video work. My street art practice was completely wild at the time, a release of energy through collages and spontaneous interventions with friends, without any photography. The street gradually came back into my life. I first rediscovered portraiture while living in Denmark for a while because I felt a bit lonely there. When I arrived in Lyon in 2011, I was living in a small room and painting scenes on canvas that no one saw. I then started using a piece of paper that I pasted up outside my building. It was interesting to see this portrait on kraft paper, but it would have been even better higher and bigger. The adrenaline kicked in and I was drawn into street art: it was a new path to explore, the constraints of which forced me to create new things. This liberated me because through painting on canvas one is constantly confronted with the history of Art, which can prove burdensome because there will always be a precursor, whereas Urban Art, on the contrary, possesses a popular and emancipatory dimension, offering a certain freedom.
What medium were you using at the time?
I started out with a hybrid approach, experimenting a bit with stencils, before quickly favoring collage because it added a dimension I value: the studio space. When you paint spontaneously in the street, you don't recapture that sense of intimacy it provides. I appreciate that time for preparation and reflection before the adrenaline rush of the outside world, especially since, at the time—in the early 2010s—artists working in Lyon had developed a strong identity around collage.
CUT THE PAPER
How did you get into paper cutting?
There were several reasons: after developing an allergic reaction to the aerosol while preparing an exhibition, I realized that, health-wise, it wasn't ideal for working in the studio, and I started using the spray as little as possible. But the main reason is that while stencils are a very suitable medium for creating precise work in the street, they require a very controlled and static technique.
I missed the gesture, the movement, that more intuitive dimension that allowed for greater freedom. I wanted to rediscover the pencil stroke, as well as the ability to work more energetically, closer to the drawing itself. With cut paper, the line became like a thread, the opposite of a stencil, because everything I keep would have been removed. Indeed, we find the initial pencil drawing, then the cut, which adds a second motif and a work that is no longer about the portrait but about emptiness and fullness. For me, this process becomes almost abstract, even if the result isn't. It was interesting to explore this direction to try and bring something different to the table. I wanted to go against the grain to see where the movement might lead me.
This relationship between emptiness and fullness is striking in your cutting work, with emptiness occupying the majority of the space.
I think I work more with emptiness and space than with portraiture, which sometimes almost becomes a pretext. There's a desire here to do the opposite of the major components of Urban Art and Graffiti, namely colors, saturated spaces, and the occupation of space. I'm taking the opposite approach, with a very limited and radical graphic palette: black and a touch of color, plenty of space to create plays of light, to allow room to breathe. With these elements, I try to add my own unique touch.
This style is reminiscent of press sketches, and the line serves to reveal the shape of the face. When you begin a work, do you let yourself be guided by the line or do you know the shape of the portrait you want to compose?
With stencils, you get precise, defined work, without any mishaps, even during execution. Conversely, drawing allows for suggestion, for occasional mistakes, with a line arriving in the wrong place but giving rise to things that happen and transcend our control. What interests me now is achieving less control. Until now, my urban work has consisted of two main parts: stencil work and paper cutting. A new stage will be reached by moving even further in this quest for letting go.
IN SEARCH OF THE LINE
Why do you insist on depicting portraits in everyday poses?
Throughout my studies at the Beaux-Arts, I didn't paint a single portrait, as it's considered too classical a discipline. Yet, several questions arise from it: starting with a subject, the human being, it's about seeing what I can find, and how far I can go. The everyday pose is interesting because working on the individual is a challenge to oneself. I think it's important in art to set your own rules and explore a path, because how can you move forward if you're scattered? I chose portraiture: I don't know what I'll do with it or where it will lead me, but it's a struggle with myself. However, I still don't have an answer for why I prefer to depict women rather than men. I try to capture emotions, and I succeed more through a female subject, which I find more luminous. The rare times I paint men, they resemble each other and often serve to highlight rather dark themes.
With paper cutting, the medium itself becomes the artwork.
I don't want to be a technician, and I don't think art should be reduced to that, because nowadays it's possible to outsource it. In my case, I know that the stencil, and then the paper-cut line, will influence my future style, and that this new stage will reflect what I've done before. In that sense, this evolution in search of a more refined and fluid gesture was inevitable. I have no certainty about what will remain of this exploration, but I feel it's a logical progression that has continued since day one.
Do you leave room for chance when cutting, or do you necessarily follow the design drawn beforehand?
The idea is to allow for chance, which, by letting it happen, will bring balance. So, if I photocopy the same drawing and cut it out ten times, there will be ten different emotions and intentions. The choice of one area will bring more light, or evoke a sadness that will elude me somewhat. This is what I want to develop through this new, even more refined, instinctive, and raw stage. I feel this desire to move towards abstraction and suggestion, accompanied by the wish to introduce color, not for decorative purposes, but so that it brings meaning. With paper cutting, I'm starting to feel like I'm repeating myself. The irony is that while I had given up stenciling for health reasons, paper cutting gives me tendonitis that flares up after several hours of cutting. The reasons for evolving are many, but questioning is fundamental for me. It's crucial to be in a state of perpetual exploration, because it offers freedom.
In this way, you are part of a progressive search for simplicity.
My entire approach follows this line of reasoning. I used paper cutting for its impressive technical aspects, but also because it allowed me to introduce light. Now that this dimension is ingrained in my work, is it possible to go even further? Would it make sense to reproduce it a thousand times? My first stencil in 2010 already contained very little information, a very minimalist, downcast gaze. Paper cutting has complicated this initial approach, but it's a long-term goal to move towards a simple and effective practice, without pretension or artifice, simply to be in touch with emotion. In this respect, I feel I'm in the same frame of mind today as I was ten years ago.
PAPER IN THE STREET
Why is the street a special space for creation?
The first thing it offers is freedom. The freedom to paint whenever I want, to act without asking for anything in return. Without working in an urban environment, you find yourself having to approach galleries, becoming dependent. I really want to be independent, to do what I want, where I want, when I want. The street is also a huge playground, which for me takes me back to my childhood: as a teenager, you put up posters in your room; in the 80s, they were of athletes and celebrities. For my part, I was a Michael Jackson fan; it was an identity I claimed. Isn't painting in the street like decorating your room on a slightly bigger wall? It's decorating your neighborhood, your city, by reclaiming the space.
What is your relationship to the ephemeral nature of your work?
I don't dwell on it too much. Ephemerality is part of urban art. I know my piece will disappear, evolve, get damaged, deteriorate, be torn down or repainted. If I refuse to accept that, I'll stick it up higher. It's part of the process, and I think it's cool to see an old painting that has aged and wrinkled like a human being. I don't have an oversized ego that would prevent my projects from disappearing. I don't care.
Is it necessary to act illegally to be free?
For me, freedom is what allows for autonomy, for pure enjoyment. It's a cyclical pleasure: it's been a long time since I've pasted up art, because my current concerns are less focused on the street. But I can't wait to get back out there, which will allow me to both refine the design and lighten my equipment, using a simple pole or a Posca marker to tag a wall in three minutes, striving for even more freedom. Using stencils requires a portfolio, spray paint, and tape. With paper cutting, you needed organized and protected cutouts, but also glue, and even a ladder to be able to place them out of reach. With a marker, I can express myself across several kilometers of street. I don't believe that you necessarily say less by expressing yourself with less. On the contrary, I'll say more by simplifying. The viewer will experience the same emotion, the message will be just as powerful.
What is your relationship with photography?
Photography, in my opinion, isn't a work of art in itself, because the power of the work comes from the street and from seeing it in real life. However, it's more than just an archive, as it's necessary to connect urban art with social media, which, by enabling exchange and sharing, has allowed this movement to become more democratic and popular. A painting of downtown Lyon will be visible anywhere. In the case of paper cutting, the photograph takes on particular importance because of the urban elements positioned in the background. It's about framing, depth, and angle, which allow the piece to stand alone and find its full meaning when placed in the right location.
Do you feel like you are part of an artistic movement?
I inevitably participate in it from the moment I create in the street. Is it an artistic movement? Yes, absolutely. The history of art is written with its upheavals and changes, and urban art will be that of our time, because it has become popular, has a following, and sells. It's an art form that politicians are interested in, with numerous dedicated festivals. It's rooted in the contemporary world through its creative techniques and social media. Without the latter, street art wouldn't be what it is. The internet offers opportunities for exchange and sharing that allow us to discover the work of an artist on the other side of the world, something that had never happened before. Previous movements were linked to the economy of a continent: the Impressionists were French and based in Paris, American art became recognized and popular in the 1950s when, after the war, the country embraced Pop art and Pollock. Street art no longer follows this classic pattern: it is everywhere, can be done with very little, and can achieve the same level of success in a village as in Dubai.
So, are social networks more than just a sounding board, a key element in defining Street art?
They are part of the movement because there had been no equivalent before. The first artists to make extensive use of communication were undoubtedly Picasso and Dali, who created personas embodying the exuberant artist. They established this media strategy, which would later be adopted by the magazine industry and Andy Warhol, ensuring that they were talked about as much as their work. Without social media, urban art would not be what it is today; something would be missing. However, it's important to remember that social media can be a trap for creativity, even stifling it, because it's essential to please one's community.
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