{"id":379,"date":"2021-02-01T16:48:00","date_gmt":"2021-02-01T16:48:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/?p=379"},"modified":"2026-06-30T16:49:53","modified_gmt":"2026-06-30T16:49:53","slug":"klim","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/klim\/","title":{"rendered":"Klim"},"content":{"rendered":"

A VISUAL ALTERNATE HISTORY OF AN ETERNAL SUMMER 1969<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

COURSE<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

How did you become an artist? When did you start out busking?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I've been doodling in my notebooks since I was twelve or thirteen, because I was so bored at school. I started doing collages when I became interested in magazines, wondering what I was going to do with my life. I found magazines beautiful and wanted to buy them for their pictures and colors. I was living in Nantes, and with my pocket money, I would go to a small bookstore near Place Graslin to find them: the oldest ones were the most affordable for me, and I began to observe these brilliant, very funny advertisements with their always-smiling women. The idea of collage really appealed to me, and I quickly started cutting them out to paste them up, first a little in Marseille during my studies, then more seriously when I arrived in Paris five years ago. I was living near Goncourt then, and, supported by several friends involved in the hip-hop scene, I started putting up collages around Oberkampf. Since the police weren't very friendly at that time, it discouraged me a bit. My practice intensified when I moved to Butte-aux-Cailles three years ago. Seeing new collages that had appeared overnight every time I opened the shutters made me want to take it up a bit more seriously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A DREAM-LIKE WORLD FROM MAGAZINES<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you only use original sources for your compositions?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, I use old Paris Match magazines, from the 1940s to the 1960s, before the paper changed, with a very different glossy texture that I don't like using as much. Then came the switch to color, but I prefer black and white. Above all, this kitsch fades over time, and you don't see these women in ridiculous poses extolling the virtues of having a washing machine in their homes as often anymore. I find them at flea markets, but my friends and family also bring them back for me now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your works form a kind of visual alternate history, a summer of '69 that never ended. In your opinion, do they participate in an imaginary world or are they its matrix?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I've always had a passion for kitsch, which I express mostly through my musical tastes or my clothing. For me, it speaks to the most human part of us, when we've pushed our project, our work, to its limits, and the result is still almost a failure. We've strived for perfection, but all we've managed to do is be ourselves, with all our little flaws. That will always resonate with me deeply. The magazine format, the access to this almost infinite image bank, completely contributed to creating a world. I came to it very gradually, moving from a taste for color and text to these faces. I loved finding elegant women in the images I cut out; I found it hilarious that they'd spent three hours putting on makeup to sell toothpaste. They led me to this offbeat, anachronistic tone, which makes me offer them silly things with a smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hands occupy a special place in your creations and you frequently choose wall angles that allow them to appear as micro-frames.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hands fascinate me, and I use them a lot, having them hold flowers or scatter little hearts. I like the idea of practical jokes, of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. I don't look for specific walls to paste up. The surprise also comes when, while out walking, you find a spot where it would be funny to place a flower, a hand, or a gaze. Some places lend themselves to this unexpectedly: I might paste up next to a police station or a school, which makes the message particularly funny, like when I pasted up chickens next to a police station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE PASTE-UP, AN EXQUISITE VISUAL CORPSE<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why choose collage as the medium?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

For me, collage is a break. I need these moments of respite when I listen to music and immerse myself in several hours of cutting and pasting. I flip through magazines until I find an image that appeals to me more than another, whether it makes me laugh, intrigues me, or connects to something else. As for the characters, I try to choose those that amuse me, those with a mischievous air. I like to think that people returning home, perhaps after a terrible day, will see something silly on a wall, a detail that will make them smile and that won't be an advertisement or a poster imposed by the city. Public space isn't just a place we pass through, a place of danger, where we're in a hurry, but also a place where we can be together, in a slightly funny, sometimes surprising way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Could you elaborate on the paste-up technique, a kind of visual exquisite corpse? It results in a juxtaposition of elements of a different nature.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As soon as I open a magazine, I think about all the things that could be done with those forgotten images, piled up in attics. Sometimes I find them in the crossword puzzles, and I feel a connection to the people who opened them. I want to give a second life to the person who posed for that advertisement, just as vibrant as the first. I don't tell myself that this element has to go where; I just try to make them work together. When a woman appears behind a curtain, I have her holding a bouquet of flowers. Maybe she was originally hanging out laundry, but I found her so ridiculously happy that I tried to make her more lifelike. As for the text, it might be a sentence or a quote that struck me, depending on what I've been reading and what I'm feeling at a given moment. It could also be a lyric from a song I've just heard, and I study a lot of lyrics by rappers who resonate with me. For the sense of volume, I sometimes combine flowers with the characters because I like the somewhat naive idea of putting them on walls. Hearts and flowers also have a universal appeal. Furthermore, I often try to position the images at a child's eye level, as they are the first to experience strong emotions with visuals. I sometimes wait nearby to see them burst out laughing or point. Through these very lively characters, I try to bring color: although the photograph was taken more than sixty years ago, this smiling woman will make us smile in turn once it's placed in the street, regardless of our age or where we come from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

OWN THE STREET<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In what way is the street a unique space for creation?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don't feel that my work is politicized, yet I think my relationship with the street truly is. I grew up in Nantes, for a long time the only girl in a group of boys. I was always impressed during our nighttime walks by the freedom they had crossing the street. For them, it wasn't a place of danger or passage, but rather a place of endless possibilities: they wrote on the walls, climbed them\u2014it was a game. Conversely, when I went out without them, I was afraid. I wanted to recapture that feeling and reclaim the street by putting up silly, funny, and joyful things. Giving voice to the night with my collages allowed me to overcome my fear and regain my self-confidence. There's a stereotype associated with being a girl doing street art. Several times, people have been surprised and asked me if it isn't dangerous. But that shouldn't be a deterrent; we are where we belong and we don't have to resemble the stereotype presented by some media outlets to do street art, to be able to paste and truly appropriate the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Furthermore, I come from a modest family, but one that has always had a very strong connection to culture. My mother took me to museums; it's part of who I am. It's difficult not being able to go for so long. I find great pleasure in calmly observing paintings, these combinations of colors, textures, and shapes that soothe me and make me dream. It's an openness that few people understand because they are sometimes afraid to enter museums, or they can't bring themselves to stop and observe. Sometimes I want to laugh or react to a work of art. But the conventions of these places require you to remain still in order to be in contemplation. The street allows for this interaction, for moving around, taking a photo, laughing, touching the image. It opens a different perspective on the meaning of being in front of a work of art. It's not something reserved for an elite and a place you access by paying, but something accessible to everyone. Doing it with very naive forms like old magazines can also inspire someone to have fun with their own resources.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you consider your practice to be intentionally occasional?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Absolutely, I don't even feel like I have a technique: it's something that makes me feel good, a moment of relaxation. My job doesn't allow me to use my hands every day, even though I need them. But this rhythm is also dictated by the weather: in winter, I paste at home but without going out to put them up, because my hands freeze and it quickly becomes impossible. I have a lot of admiration for those who paste in these temperatures. I also write a lot on the side, and sometimes I have phases where I really need to write. Instagram helps me be more consistent, through messages from people who repost my past collages or tell me it's been a long time since they've seen any.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you consider that there is a search for discretion in your work?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think there's a bit of truth to that, even if the size is dictated by magazines. I like to walk down the street and notice a detail, a flower, a photograph behind a window. Tucking my collage in a corner, sometimes in a busy thoroughfare, is therefore more about seeking a wink and the element of surprise than discretion. I tell myself that maybe someone will take the time to stop and look. I'd also like to experiment with enlargements to make larger collages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ON URBAN ART<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What is your perspective on the ephemeral nature of Street art?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think street art demands a certain humility: accepting the possibility of spending several hours on a piece that could be damaged by rain or torn down. This echoes the medium itself, this fragile and already forgotten paper: if you don't cut it, the magazine is already obsolete. Giving it a second life, however short, consecrates it more than if it were in a museum, offering us a window of opportunity to observe it and see it as it is. When I started, several people around me asked if I wanted to exhibit my collages. I questioned what I was doing and why, because it seemed like the logical continuation of the place it occupies in my life. It put pressure on me to think that my creations could remain for a very long time, whereas I often choose not even to share them on Instagram. I think a work doesn't tell the same story when it's placed in the street as when it's framed, and it also tells a different story when people have to enter a space. By exhibiting, I might lose what I enjoy most: a smile or an emotion elicited from someone who hadn't anticipated it. The ephemeral nature of the work has dispelled that anxiety. Some pieces last, others disappear in two nights, but I realize that's enough for me, that it's even more wonderful to imagine their potential lives. There's an almost dreamlike quality to it that suits me well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What is your perspective on the logic of spotlights and accumulation inherent in urban art?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It's not my intention to arrive at a spot covered in graffiti or posters, but I find it exciting. There's a family reunion feel to it: we don't know each other, but we've all come here, using more or less the same language to express completely different things. Sometimes I put up a single collage, and it always pleases me to see that a few days later others have come to add their own work, as if we were responding to each other. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes not at all. I also sometimes paste in a spot because it's particularly well-placed and creates a resonant effect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you think Urban Art is an artistic movement? If so, do you consider yourself part of it?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think the artistic movement will remain Hip-Hop, with its disciplines including Graffiti, Breakdancing, and DJing, which are all street arts. I fully embrace linking it to Street Art, because it was also Graffiti that allowed me to get into it. The simple act of using a medium to express oneself on walls counts, even if it's to write something silly or very vulgar. As soon as there's an interaction, where you're expressing yourself to an audience, you enter into a form of expression. My relationship to all of this is almost playful, but I think it's part of a larger movement.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

UCHRONIE VISUELLE D\u2019UN \u00c9TERNEL \u00c9T\u00c9 69 PARCOURS Comment es-tu devenue artiste ? Quand as-tu commenc\u00e9 dans la rue ? Je griffonne depuis que j\u2019ai douze ou treize ans dans mes cahiers, car je m\u2019ennuyais beaucoup \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9cole. Le collage a commenc\u00e9 au moment o\u00f9 je me suis int\u00e9ress\u00e9e \u00e0 la presse, me demandant ce que […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[8,28,30],"class_list":["post-379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-collage","tag-ephemere","tag-paris"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=379"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":380,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379\/revisions\/380"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/qgdesartistes.fr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}