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La vie d’artiste
« Memories of my brotherUnder the surface »

La vie d’artiste

08.11.15

  08:52:00 am, by   , 566 words  
Categories: Art, Collage

La vie d’artiste


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This title is ironic, because it refers to the idea that my parents and my brother had of it.  My father was afraid that I would be unable to make a living of my art.  So he did everything to keep me from going to an art school. My brother was dying of jealousy by imagining a bohemian life on the theme: Wein, Weib und Gesang = Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll. So he worked secretly to sabotage me financially.

And despite all these obstacles, my bohemian life had good sides (parties, love affairs ...) and I took advantage. But it did not last long. I had to make a living other than by painting and it is only during the holidays I felt really free, but not as much since my retirement. Since ten years, I bask as the artist of my collage, happy to have achieved my dream of adolescence: create and dream freely. Of course at almost 75 now and the aforementioned triad is softened, but somehow I am not fundamentally rock and roll, except in my head, so no regrets, except for being so misjudged by my family and having been unable to successfully cause a frank explanation and have had to work in secret, too, to go to the art school.

Am I really like the artist in my collage? It is true that I am often lounging on the couch, that I love listening to music and especially that I have a wife who supports me and who is dear to me - this collage  cannot lie, it is supposed to express what moves and touches me. A rare moment in an artist’s life.

 

 

Ce titre est ironique, car il se réfère  à l’idée que s’en faisaient mes parents et mon frère.  Mon père craignait que je sois incapable de gagner ma vie.  Il a donc tout fait pour m’empêcher d’aller dans une école d’art.  Mon frère, lui, crevait de jalousie en m’imaginant mener une vie de bohème  sur le thème : Wein, Weib und Gesang = Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll. Il a donc œuvré en secret  pour me saboter financièrement.

Et malgré tous ces obstacles, ma vie de bohème avait de bons côtés (les fêtes, les amours…) et j’en ai bien profité. Mais elle n’a pas duré longtemps. J’ai dû gagner ma vie autrement qu’en peignant des tableaux et ce n’est que pendant les vacances que je me sentais vraiment libre, mais pas autant que depuis ma retraite. En effet, depuis dix ans,  je me prélasse comme l’artiste qui figure sur mon collage, heureux d’avoir réalisé son rêve d’adolescence : pouvoir créer et rêver sans entraves.  Bien sûr qu’à presque 75 ans, la triade susnommée s’est adoucie, mais de toute façon je ne suis pas foncièrement rock and roll, sauf dans ma tête, donc pas de regrets, sauf celui d’avoir été si mal jugé par ma famille et d’avoir été incapable  de réussir à provoquer une explication franche et d’avoir dû œuvrer en secret, moi aussi, pour aller aux Beaux-Arts.

 

Suis-je vraiment comme l’artiste de mon collage ? Il est vrai que je me prélasse bien souvent sur le canapé, que j’aime écouter de la musique et surtout que j’ai une épouse  qui me soutient et qui m’est chère – ce collage ne ment donc pas, puis qu’il est censé exprimer ce qui me meut et émeut. Un moment rare de la vie d’artiste.

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Blog on art, centered on collage. It is meant as a sort of logbook of my creative work.

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