Love me tender
Flac. I read Flac1. And I took it in the mouth.
An image came out, a mouth open like a hatch, a breath, a cry, a song, a rattle, an aspiration, an expiration, an inspiration. An invitation to enter, to go back in time, in search of the origin of the world, our origin, our most intimate being.
Delicious and terrifying, intoxicating, sensual, irresistible.
I plunged into this fascinating mouth and out came a logorrhoea of images: the dam was broken.
Clair-obscur, from absolute black to light. Sharp, clattering, merciless, sometimes too real to be identifiable, the image puts our brain to shame.
The image speaks to the soul.
If the viewer makes the picture,
Who are you, you who look at me?
Taboo. I touched the taboo.
Tired of rejection, I decided to please.
I believed that the female nude was pleasing, a commonplace in art throughout the ages. My cosmic nudes were frightening.
I took the opposite view, the infinitely large, the light, the colour, the pious image, the image that everyone loves: the sunset.
From the death of my father to a budding love, the sunsets of Ngor Island have been the rhymes of my emotions, the poem of my feelings.
Even more taboo than the vagina, the sunset is a formally forbidden image in contemporary art.
In the Antipodes… I was a smartass. I broke my pipe.
Twice! Een ezel stoot zich geen twee keer aan dezelfde steen.
And I went to the antipodes, where people have their heads down and their feet up.
I make simple, ordinary, pragmatic, academic, decorative, preppy images of them, in tune with the times.
Walk on it, it’s not a blasphemy, it’s a pleasure (in the antipodes) and read the titles, smile at them, don’t be bored anymore: I don’t claim anything.
I am a Sunday painter.
Fabien de Cugnac
1 Flac, Novel, Serge André, Éditions QUE, France, 2001