Je suis un, mais je suis autre » — I am one, yet I am another
These paintings ask a question words cannot land on: what does it mean to be one self, yet another? Faces emerge from layered surfaces—multiplied, cut, reassembled. They are not broken. They are expanded. The fragmentation you see is not death; it is multiplication.
The recurring grids do double work. They evoke systems that categorize and contain—bureaucracies, borders, paperwork, every institution that imposes form on the self. Yet the grid is also scaffolding: structure within which identity gets built. Constraint and support at once.
Color here is not decoration. The earth tones—burnt sienna, ochre, the red of laterite soil—are colors of homeland carried in the body. The chromatic explosions of cadmium and vermillion are colors of presence, of a body refusing to disappear. These paintings vibrate. Ochres and deep blacks pulse through the canvases like breath through a body.
The red lip persisting across the monochromes is the feminine principle surviving when everything else is stripped away. Voice, sensuality, origin, insistence. Against fragmentation, the lip insists: here is presence, here is desire.
"Here, I do not reproduce what already exists. I only reconstruct by fragmenting, detaching, assembling—to give others their own way of seeing the world."
The surfaces themselves carry meaning. Heavy impasto, scraped and excavated layers—the physical act of scratching beneath to reveal what lies hidden. Each painting is an act of reconstruction, and reconstruction is not recovery. It is making something that did not exist before.
These paintings do not shout. They echo. They do not explain. They insist. They do not end. They open.
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