First there is a meeting. You are invited to observe it. It is an encounter that becomes synonymous with cohabitation and above all connivance. In this oddity, a plastic and linguistic emulsion, there are as many links as there are breaks. With forms that clash, stick together, oppose each other while colours discuss or ignore each other.
As you wander around, you come across works by Charlotte Delval that question our senses. The desire to bathe in perfumes, to caress unknown materials to abolish the distance between a sculpture and your body. This reveals the intimate, the shell as malleable as it is fragile that separates us from what we call the outside, the elsewhere, the other. It reminds us that an encounter only takes place when we collide this internal shell with something else. There is this organicity in the face of the smoothness and control of Audrey Aumegeas’s drawings. The lines are precise, close to a more voluptuous filling, almost blurred at times. Alongside these domestic spaces, Marine Coullard’s paintings are dressed in soft colours. They are the result of an almost maniacal work of the line and the surface. They play with symbols and flat areas through effects of transparency that underline the invisible in the visible. Vincent Girard figures the invisible, playfully evoking spirits and monsters to disturb our reality. He opens windows on unknown landscapes, fantasies or delusions and reveals the beauty of a peach that our eyes often forget to observe. These details are drawn by Loïc Leclercq, absurd, you observe a schedule. So, together, we question the value of each of these boxes, we look for a story, we project ourselves into the life of a fictitious person, perhaps the artist. For want of an answer, we contemplate the rhythm and nuances, a geometry where time stretches. It passes slowly, as if on holiday, the letters are not opened. How long does it take the postman to realise that there is no one at that address? Audrey Aumegeas translates this wandering into an extract from the décor, a forgotten era, a strange design. She creates stained glass windows as fluffy as cotton wool.
In this exhibition, the materials mix and present themselves to you like a strange acidic scoubidou that the sun has discoloured. We, young artists, invite you to hang this object somewhere with your keys so that you will always have this sweet song “Over the Rainbow” at hand. Farther than our perceptions, between latency and expectation, if certainties were lost for the time of a rainbow. We stage a stretched time where observation is required. From this need to underline links, to celebrate ruptures: Weirdo rainbow is there. For us, for you, with us, with you. It is the collection of a plastic and human agreement, of a desire to exist individually with and for others.
Audrey, Marine, Charlotte, Vincent and Loïc.
Over the Rainbow, original song by Edgard Yipsel Harburg, performed by Judy Garland in 1938