Paella?
DECONSTRUCTING FALSE OBVIOUSNESS THROUGH LANGUAGE
FRIDGES, A COLLECTIVE ADVENTURE
Could you elaborate on the origins of Les Frigos and their specific nature as a collective artistic creation space?
The word collective The Frigos, offered for rent and immediately fully occupied from 1985 onwards by creatives from all walks of life, cannot be described as such. Many came from art schools, and for the “Frigo 6” studio, six of us got together, cut the windows, and set everything up, without imagining it would last more than a few years. The space was rented for a variety of activities, mostly by artists of different generations, and without the collective spirit one might find in Germany or in Anglo-Saxon or Scandinavian countries. Here, there are companies, craftspeople, and various studios—rehearsals, photography, architecture. Everything revolves around creation, but with divergent goals, successes, and paths.
Frigo 6 could be described more as a collective: we didn't share a particular form of expression or avant-garde thought, but we were imbued with the energy of the 80s, we wanted to create projects together, and use our 300 square meters of workshop space as both a workspace and an exhibition area. Today, what unites the Frigos “community” is the act of causing a stir: we are fighting against pressure from institutions that would prefer this place to be managed differently, while it remains exactly as it spontaneously arose 35 years ago.
What is the importance of refrigerators today?
It's a unique adventure, with its share of ups and downs. Fences have recently been put up, because it's true that it's an easy playground; those who come to paint often consider it a free space. It's also a marginal place due to its location within the city, as it has asserted itself, and the municipality has been somewhat forced to accept it as such without knowing how to manage it, because it's not an exemplary place; it can't truly represent contemporary art. It's an eclectic mix of creative activities that ultimately thrives because it's a workspace. You'll find Shadee.K and his crew, the teams that recreated the Chauvet Cave, and various studios. This collection has no reason not to exist outside of institutions, and that's what the City of Paris struggles to accept: they would undoubtedly prefer to establish a site similar to the Centquatre, and as with everything, things will eventually change.
THE POSTER, A COMMITTED MEDIUM
Could you elaborate on the particularly ephemeral nature of the pasted-up posters?
Posters deteriorate but don't damage the wall like paintings do, which can be perceived as genuine acts of aggression by those who see their property defaced. Posters are part of a tradition of free, popular, or political expression, allowing others the possibility of pasting them over, writing on them, tearing them down, or reclaiming them. For me, it was an obvious medium, corresponding to a form of expression that aligned with my graphic design training. I was practicing screen printing at art school and wanted to distinguish myself from what was already being done in the street—the stencils and paintings of Miss.Tic, Mesnager, and others—to find something that better reflected what I wanted to express, without simply repeating my work as a painter. I wanted to reach an audience that wasn't necessarily interested in painting, to connect with people who would be amused by my style, and the poster in this respect alluded to May '68, to that tradition of free expression mixed with politics, advertising spirit, and wordplay, also reflecting the 80s era of television and rock 'n' roll culture. Screen printing offered me a sensitivity closer to that of a visual artist, unlike photocopying.
For an artist like Epsylon Point, the very act of painting in the street is a political gesture. Do you think that's still the case today?
It is indeed a social stance to be breaking the law, even if street art isn't limited to that. In my opinion, street art is defined by taking the liberty to express oneself despite the ownership and respect due to certain places or street furniture. Painting is used as a form of protest, and it's true that graffiti or tags originally express a desire to stand out, to break the law, and to bear witness to a voice silenced by the occupation of a territory. In France, the Figuration Libre movement also allowed a generation of young artists to express themselves and rise to prominence.
We also find in your works the repeated use of the slogan.
The posters adopted this idea of a slogan, a concise and succinct message. By creating small posters, concise wording allowed them to capture attention, using puns and allusions to current events or social issues. A fairly simple graphic design, combined with a slogan, also facilitates memorization. While an artist like Miss.Tic works more in a poetic, literary style, I am closer to advertising, where effectiveness is achieved through brevity.
THE STREET: A SPACE FOR CREATION
When you talk about these urban beginnings, it seems like the transition from the Fine Arts to the street was natural. Was this linked to the context of the time?
I was brought to the street by friends from the Beaux-Arts who had started building hoardings at night. These were primarily "risky" play experiments, like exploring the catacombs, to try new things. The Louvre hoardings were nearby, and instead of looking for an abandoned factory, they could have fun there, crossing the Seine. Some magazines, like Current, They reported on the actions of Mesnager or Speedy Graphito, and this spirit was in the air, encouraging young artists to break free and find solutions because the art world seemed unattainable. I had been painting for a while, but I could see that this world was closed off and that it was very difficult to exist as a young painter. When I arrived at Le Frigo in 1985, I decided to change my painting style, which was also a matter of survival, to continue to be seen and to exist.
What do you think is interesting about working on a small scale, when many artists today want to work on the largest possible surfaces?
In the 80s, I started by painting on the hoardings of the Louvre and the Centre Pompidou, back in the days of the VLP and the Ripoulin brothers. I hadn't yet developed what I still do today, and painting on walls seemed to me like a turf war, a battle to see who would leave their mark last. This battle of graffiti covering each other always amused me. Very quickly, I thought of turning things around, focusing on the small scale and the multiplication of my work through posters, in an untapped space: gutters, the city's nooks and crannies, these abandoned places neglected by building management. These were markers I placed along my walks through Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the Marais, the Centre Pompidou, Les Halles, and Bastille. At the time, there were few posters on the gutters, and they could therefore remain for quite a long time, creating an accumulation.
I would put them up about once a month, and this minimal approach satisfied me, even knowing it didn't offer the same visibility as larger pieces. I continued this work because I felt it suited me and that it found its audience. When you see how Invader operated, and how others do now, I think I've opened up a field of urban expression through discreet repetition. Ultimately, it's a deliberate search for significant, untapped positions within the city that can interest an audience. Some want to use advertising tools and achieve high visibility, like John Hamon. For me, it was more about subtly integrating into the city than appearing ostentatiously. It was also a question of resources, since I printed and pasted my own posters. But the ambition of this project also lay in its duration: it became interesting through its repetition and regularity. The first series of displays lasted five years and ultimately attracted attention and gained a level of visibility it wouldn't have achieved had it lasted less time.
You have thus created a dichotomy between your street paintings and your studio work.
I quickly realized that the street was also a way to communicate something other than my gallery paintings. It allowed me to use another form of expression, to address a different audience, without necessarily calculating the impact it might have on my work, my reputation, and my development. Despite my discretion, the street became a kind of calling card, even if I wasn't counting on it at all costs. All of this happened at a favorable time for young painters: we weren't forced to act in the street to attract attention. There was a real demand for emerging artists, and the Figuration Libre movement quickly embraced these young talents.
In what way is the street a unique space for creation?
The street offered an opening to a new audience. After a while, I ended up putting my phone number on my posters, which attracted a few people who, seeing the posters, wanted to discover the rest of my work. But the street wasn't a sampling of what I created in the studio, and I didn't have to sell a product I was representing outdoors, yet everyone who achieved success followed that idea. I didn't want to be in that kind of commercialization, that of a standardized product that I would be forced to reproduce for sale. It's a trap that Mesnager, André, or M. Chat fell into, whose success, due to their visibility, forced them commercially to satisfy public demand. I wanted to break free, to have the possibility of a body of work that develops and questions painting, without being a visual that can be reproduced infinitely, identically.
A WORK BASED ON COMPOSITION AND THE DIALOGUE BETWEEN IMAGE AND TEXT
How do you construct the dialogue between the text and the image?
I don't have a set of rules; sometimes the theme guides me in what I'm going to represent. I also sometimes jot down phrases that will be useful two years later, or reason by analogy. While I'm painting, words come to me and then bounce off other concepts. There's no system; I simply want to create an assemblage that isn't simplistic. I assemble certain elements knowing that it will sometimes take time for them to resonate with someone. Each composition thus constitutes a different kind of alchemy, with some pieces being more philosophical, others more social. The important thing for me is to let things evolve, without striving to achieve something perfect or finished at all costs.
I use various forms of wordplay, turns of phrase, and double meanings to question language itself. The French language, through its sophistication, allows for this confusion, this complex interplay. At the same time, I try to ensure that the image is not unambiguous, that it disconcerts and defies certain conventions.
By using the text in this way, you give the viewer a decisive role in the interpretation of the work.
It's inherent in art to leave room for individual interpretation when it comes to how we project ourselves into a character, an atmosphere, a color. Through these intellectual games, I try to draw on the references and cultural background of those who view my work, encouraging them to go beyond what they already know so they can learn something—and I, too, for that matter. Some people ask me what my works mean. While I offer avenues for interpretation, I refuse to suggest that they can only mean one thing.
My texts use many truisms and can be simple, even simplistic. Their tone and form are reminiscent of proverbs, but inverted, thus forcing the audience to rediscover the original idea. They question this ancestral transmission of common sense, these obvious solutions to life's problems. My goal is to deconstruct the ready-made formulas that prevent us from thinking and that trap us in rigid patterns. I created a poster that used the expression «"Money is only lent to the rich."» While this has become a misconception, today loans are primarily lent to the poor because they generate more income. There's no reason to accept these ideas simply because they seem like common sense. They evolve, and we need to re-examine them to question language and communication. It's a kind of invitation to critique, not necessarily negative. Understanding the mechanisms of language and creation, understanding how they are constructed, interests me, and the same goes for images.
Beyond this relationship to the text, how has your painting evolved over time?
From 1985 onwards, I developed an elastic figure allowing for multiple interpretations. It stretches out, attempting to occupy a space defined linearly, enclosed by vignettes. The very edges of the canvas ultimately delineated the figure's confinement, which for me was a question of form, as this body became a play of shapes resting on the surface, never represented in perspective. This humanoid, with its arms and legs capable of turning and extending, allowed me to ask concrete questions about the canvas as a space, about the subject in relation to the background, about the method of painting, and about the creation of new pictorial dimensions.
Over the course of fifteen years, this body changed its appearance, its thickness varying, stretching at will. More than a body, it was a brushstroke, its dynamic driven by gesture, paint, and drawing. It was a subject for painting that questioned the space allotted to the painter through the standards of the canvas and format. This work ceased in 2000, and I moved on to other working methods, which opened me up to new questions. While the figure is still present, it lacks expression, its physical characteristics, and it is no longer alone. Together, they form a scene that is not necessarily explicit, but which tells a story while remaining ambiguous. I include a proverbial phrase, which will certainly not clarify the image but which, by forcing the association between the two, will compel us to find bridges, paths of reading, which can open up reflections on the interpretation of the totality of the elements of the work.
Unlike other urban artists who use a recurring character, you have managed to break free from it to play more with composition.
I didn't want to use the elastic figure in the street, but its spiral head is a tool for representing humanity, like the figures of Keith Haring or cave paintings which, without representing a particular identity, refer to humankind through their simplicity. This was very clear and graphic in my early posters with this spiral occupying the place of the nose. Today, my figure has a more human appearance, which allows me to give more space to a play of representation, through color, clothing, and gender. This basic tool can be developed in different ways.
It's also a logo because it's a kind of signature, but its real value lies in its ability to express ideas through a representation of humanity, opening up a vast field of artistic expression and avoiding the pitfalls of human comedy. Virtually all street artists adopt an animal, a novel way to create a symbol of recognition, but it's a shame that it's limited to this, without conveying anything more. You can depict a cockroach or an ostrich; it's charming and can bring joy to the city, but sometimes it feels too much like a marketing tool.
ON THE STREET ART
For many urban artists today, the street offers a return to an aesthetic that has become difficult in the era of Conceptual Art. «"Art for Art's sake"» Does it represent a limit for you?
I don't want to pass judgment on the way the world works, but I find it limiting to use the street as a platform for self-promotion. Ultimately, even if it lacks relevance, everyone survives and tries to make a name for themselves however they want or can. If these people manage to become known and sell their paintings, all the better, but thankfully there are also those who use the street by asking questions that give their work a purpose beyond simply adding to the overabundance of supposedly aesthetic images. This is somewhat the problem with the painted walls in the 13th arrondissement.e In a Parisian district: this isn't street art anymore, and they claim that by replacing an empty wall they're making the city more beautiful! I don't entirely agree: forcing someone to see a painted wall every day, for example, a cat, is imposing an aesthetic that isn't necessarily to everyone's liking. I find it difficult to claim to bring beauty to the city, and this claim is a hypocritical argument, which cannot be the goal of street art. Urban artistic action is meaningful primarily by playing with aesthetic or academic appeal.
Indeed, a recurring theme in Street art is the idea that something is necessarily prettier than nothing, that a wall will necessarily be better painted than grey.
This problem can arise in disused places, poorly maintained neighborhoods, and abandoned houses. I understand the desire to bring something to these places, but there needs to be a purpose. I can't accept that every surface must be covered, that there's an absolute need to be everywhere, that every empty space in the city should be painted under the pretext of "art." What I find interesting in urban expression are those who manage to play with what the city and its environment represent, with people's daily perceptions, with light, or with other characteristics like traffic, street furniture, and so on. Several factors make the street a rich terrain of possibilities, but not simply a surface to be occupied because there's "free" space.
Beyond urban art, do you think all forms of art must convey a message?
Please note, I can appreciate certain purely aesthetic creations that convey visual emotions. However, my goal as an artist is to bring together certain criteria that I find interesting from both an intellectual and conceptual standpoint. Experiencing a strong or sincere expression, an original language, allows us to highlight the intelligence of certain artists who prompt us to reflect without necessarily venturing into the realm of the conceptual. I admire those who question things and whose questioning is thorough because you sense a genuine need to do so, that they are not acting solely for promotional gain.
Everyone then has the right to their chance, because the reality is that people are likely to appreciate all forms of art. Therefore, no form of expression is more important than another, as long as it manages to evoke emotions, reflections, or express creativity in ways that could not be shared otherwise.
To what extent do you think the new opportunities offered by the street have encouraged the recent explosion of urban art, especially compared to the 80s?
Today it's become a trend, and new generations are trying to make a name for themselves through it without having taken the time for personal artistic development, remaining on the surface of this phenomenon without asking too many questions, with varying degrees of talent. Even though it already existed, it has truly become a way to gain recognition and more easily connect with professionals in the art market. My latest series is a play on this: nothing happens except this character holding up a piece of paper on which something is written. It's a way of posing the question: whether it's identical repetition that grants access to fame or visibility, and whether the means of advertising generate desire or envy.
I'm not immune to the idea of making a name for myself, but it has always been important for me to be self-sufficient so as not to be consumed by a commercial structure that would dictate my output. This drive to move forward has resonated with an art-loving public and has allowed me to remain independent while maintaining visibility. My ambition isn't commercial success, even though it provides resources, such as funding for projects that might be more formally ambitious. I've never sought sponsorships or grants. There's a line I refuse to cross: success that would compromise and constrain me.
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