Collage shortcuts

I asked myself yesterday if two collages from different periods with a comparable theme would show me some “progress”. Often art historians describe the work of an artist as a progression towards excellence. So I asked myself the following question: Did I progress in 9 years? Looking closely to these two collages from 2000 and 2009 I would like to say: No, not really. The only difference I can perceive is that my junctures seem a little more perfect. The fragment of the face on top of the mouth, the nose and one eye in the elder collage seem to me now a little bit “stuck on” and not sufficiently “mounted”. The same with the two bodies, where one edge goes over the forearm. Today I would pay more attention to that, probably because I stay longer on a collage than in 2000. But maybe this “botched” aspect suggests some movement which makes one think of some awkwardness – being so badly in one’s own body.

By comparison, my more recent collage seems more coherent and its dissonances are less evident. The figure seems smiling, even optimistic, but this impression is contradicted by the other side of the face which is reddened from tears. Surely because of her deformed anatomy. And her hand gives a hint of a gesture which accompanies her smile. What does she call for? For whom? Here again we can see the discrepancy between the profound being and the appearance one tries to give.
My themes are constant, my technique is a little more refined, and that’s all. Not enough to shout victory. It’s a steady evolution, without big leaps forward. That’s a big change from before where I experienced alternatively volcanic outbursts of creativity and void, followed by stylistic ruptures. Am I cooled down now? You bet, just have a look at my recent collages. But my workflow is steadier, like a wave rolling over the oceans.

(Français)
Je me suis demandé hier si, en comparant deux collages de thème proche, mais d’années différentes, j’arriverais à y voir un quelconque “progrès”. Ceci parce que les historiens d’art nous présentent souvent l’œuvre d’un artiste comme une progression vers l’excellence. Je me suis donc posé la question suivante : Ai-je progressé en 9 ans ? En regardant très attentivement ces deux collages de 2000 et 2009, j’ai envie de répondre : Non, pas vraiment. La seule différence que je vois, c’est que mes jonctions sont un peu plus parfaites. Le morceau de visage sur la bouche, le nez et l’œil de la figure dans l’ancien collage me semble aujourd’hui un peu trop « collé » et pas assez « monté », de même que le léger décalage des deux corps, dont un bout empiète sur l’avant-bras. Je ferais sans doute plus attention au détail, probablement aussi parce que je mets plus de temps à faire un collage qu’en 2000. Mais c’est peut-être justement ce côté « bâclé » qui suggère un mouvement et donne à penser à une maladresse – celle de cet être si mal dans sa peau. Mon collage plus récent me semble plus cohérent, et les dissonances plus masquées. La figure paraît souriante voire optimiste, mais cette impression est contredite par l’autre partie du visage, rougie par les larmes. Sans doute à cause de son anatomie si déformée, alors que sa main esquisse un vague geste qu’accompagne son sourire. Appel vers quoi, vers qui ? Décalage ici aussi entre l’être profond et une apparence qu’on s’efforce de donner.
Mes thèmes se recoupent, ma technique s’est un peu affinée, c’est tout. Pas de quoi claironner une victoire. Il s’agit d’une évolution constante, sans grands bonds en avant. Cela change par rapport à mes alternances de créativité volcanique et de vide, suivi de ruptures de style de jadis. Me suis-je assagi ? Non, il n’y a qu’à voir mes récents collages. Mais ma manière de travailler est plus régulière, si je devais évoquer une image, ce serait celle d’une vague qui parcourt les océans.

This collage has an interesting story. It was lying loosely on my desk, and I couldn’t finish it. Finally, I decided to fix it, but the more I looked at it, the more I felt that I had to go back. The first idea was a bursting figure, but, as usual, the deepening of the idea required a profound modification. I had to go back to the face, to see the wide open eyes that fascinated me in the beginning as well as the torturing hand. And only after having torn off what was layed on them I was able to enlarge the scene with the door and to add a clue for one of the tracks one might follow in order to decrypt this collage: the chain.

Français:
Ce collage a une histoire intéressante. Il se trouvait en morceaux non collés sur mon bureau et je n'arrivais pas à me décider à le finir. Puis, aujourd'hui, j'ai décidé de le coller. Mais plus je le regardais, plus je sentais que je devais revenir en arrière. L'idée première était une tête éclatée, mais, comme d'habitude, l'approfondissement de l'idée requérait une modification conséquente. Je devais revenir à ce visage, voir ces yeux révulsés qui m'avaient fascinés de même que cette main torturante. Ce n'est qu'après le décollage de ce qui les recouvrait que j'ai été capable d'élargir la scène avec la porte et d'y ajouter un indice pour l'un des chemins à suivre afin de décrypter ce collage: la chaîne.

Well, as usual, it came out so naturally, that I realized the obvious link to the masterpiece (1595, the Uffici, Florence) only when I was achieving this collage. Of course, I know this painting well, and I always felt that it was highly ambiguous because its sexual allusion. The boy looks really cute and inviting, with a very candid and light nature - there's a sort of innocence as I see this painting. And "my" Bacchus? The picture started with an ad of D&G, who are always playing with double meanings, mainly erotic of course. But here it was a little boy. I added some parts of a man in a magazine aiming partly at the gay community. What came out was a much more dramatic or even tragic picture than the Caravaggio. The innocence is lost, as it seems to be for many children today, the behavior copied from adult movies. It's the disenchantment of childhood.
P.S. Please don't imagine that I put myself at the same level as Caravaggio. See it as an inconscious homage to this genius I revere so much.

Français

Comme toujours, cela s'est passé si naturellement que je ne me suis rendu compte de l'évident lien avec ce chef d'oeuvre du Caravage (1595, Offices, Florences)que lorsque je l'avais terminé. Je connais bien ce tableau qui m'a toujours semblé ambigu à cause de sa connotation sexuelle. Le garçon sur ce tableau est mignon et très aguicheur est en même temps si naturel, si léger - il y a là, pour moi, une espèce d'innocence. Et "mon" Bacchus à moi? Le collage a débuté avec une pub de D&G, qui sont toujours à double sens, du côté sexuel bien entendu. Mais ici, il y avait un petit garçon. J'ai ajouté quelques morceaux d'homme découpés dans un magazine s'adressant aux gays. Et ce qui en a résulté était plus dramatique ou même tragique que le Caravage. L'innocence est perdue, comme cela semble être le cas pour pas mal d'enfants, le comportement s'inspire de films pour adultes. C'est le désenchantement de l'enfance.
P.S. Prière de ne pas s'imaginer que je me place au même niveau que le Caravage. Voyez ce collage plutôt comme un hommage inconscient à ce génie que je vénère tant.

It's time to show another making of. The work went quite easily, because I wanted to do something with this dog who originally hold a pair of slippers in his mouth, an image I like because it illustrates - in my opinion - many of my fellow citizens I hesitated when he was dressed with his red shirt - I thought he looked just gorgeous and blissfully happy. But then I felt that his joy had no object, so I gave him - like the Creator - a mate. And, of course, there is more than that in this collage, but you'll have to find it out by yourself.

Français
Il est temps de montrer une fois encore ma cuisine interne. Ce collage fut assez aisé, car je partais du chien tenant une paire de charentaises dans sa gueule. Un thème qui m'est cher car il illustre, à mon avis, la passivité et docilité de mes contemporains. Quand il eut sa chemise rouge, je me disais que je pouvais m'arrêter là, tellement il avait l'air mignon et béat. Mais je trouvais que sa joie était sans objet et je décidai- comme le Créateur - de lui adjoindre une compagne. Et, bien entendu, il y davantage que cela dans ce collage, mais je vous laisse le soin de le découvrir tout seuls.

The other day, I have made a collage

which enchanted me and at the same time estranged me. I was the fact that the girl’s face and the horse’s eye merged so perfectly, so that I saw her moving the animal’s head away from her face like a mask. The whole figure looks so natural while it is made from different bits. Reading Hal Foster’s book on Compulsive beauty, I was struck by his comment on Hans Bellmer’s dolls, which are really the extreme limit of deconstruction-reconstruction, as other works from provocative artists (at Saatchi's for ex.). The author shows that Breton never went so far, that he maintained a limit, that he couldn’t sacrifice sublimation. I must say that I understand that, even if my works are often at the limit of deconstruction, or chaos. But art in my eyes has to do with order. What I see in this collage is that I have succeeded in making it “beautiful” and nevertheless uncanny, but in a light way. So it is a resting point in my moreoften agitated production and I dedicate it to my granddaughter Julia (7) and to the moments of pure happiness during childhood, moments when one is unified and which we run desperately after when we have become adults.

French:
Etrangeté
L'autre jour, j'ai fait un collage qui m'a à la fois enchanté et surpris. Cela provenait de la fusion du visage de la fille et de l'oeil du cheval - j'ai vu le mouvement d'éloignement de la tête de l'animal, comme si la fille enlevait un masque. Toute cette figure a l'air si naturelle, bien que composée de différents fragments. Comme je suis en train de lire le livre susmentionné, sur la beauté compulsive des surréalistes, j'ai fait le lien avec ce qu'on y dit sur les poupées de Hans Bellmer, qui constituent l'extrême limite de la déconstruction-reconstruction, tout comme dans les oevres-choc de certains artistes contemporains (par ex. chez Saatchi). L'auteur écrit que Breton ne voulait jamais franchir la limite, car il pensait que l'art devait sublimer. Je dois dire que cela me parle, même si mes oeuvres sont souvent à la limite de la déconstruction, donc du chaos. Mais l'art, à von avis, met en oeuvre un certain ordre. Ce que je vois dans mon collage est que j'ai réussi à le rendre beau et en même temps dérangeant (unheimlich), mais de manière légère. C 'est donc un point de repos dans ma production souvent agitée et je le dédie à ma petite-fille Julia (7 ans) et aux moments de pur bonheur de l'enfance, quand on est unifié et que nous essayons de revivre désespérément plus tard quand nous sommes devenus adultes.

I had been quite satisfied with this state, so I sent it to a family member, asking him to comment on it. His answer was very negative. After a moment of stupor, I realized that maybe I had been too illustrative and that this collage needed some more work. You can see by yourself what came out. The result is far from the first state, but I am satisfied. The danger in artwork is always self-illusion, what I use to call « blindness », or self-satisfaction. It is indeed very difficult to judge one’s own productions, the mind is often a skilled sycophant. Time may help to struggle against this tendency. I just saw a painting from 2003 and found it very lousy. I am trying now to rescue it with collage, but the result is still not satisfying. So I shall say that the worse the artist, the more pretentious he/she is. And still, some poems from Victor Hugo are not at the height of his best inspiration. All this to remember to be aware of my own limits and of the necessicity of critical examination of my works.


Here the link to the collage

Well, this is of course playing with words:
First of all, a collage featuring M.J. which I wanted to be as ambiguous as the artist himself. And, looking closer, there is something medical about it, in the way he is manipulating us or himself, with the loss of brain in both cases.

The prince I am speaking of here, is Richard Prince, the glorious painter of nurses. So, here I am too, I am not a prince, but a simple commoner, and my works, as you know perhaps, don't cost one percent of the Prince's.

My nurse is joyfully liberated, she throws all her clothes away, but keeps cautiously her mask, is that an allusion on safe sex or on a threatening epidemic? Collages are mysterious, their meaning difficult to seize, my discourse on my art so flat - I feel happy and stupid at the same time by these summer days.

This collage:
came very quickly, in an instant. A family member had asked me for something on boats and sea, a magazine was open on the seascape from Marquet, and the pipe-line worker beneath. And it matched imediately. I fitted the captain's head to the pipe - and it was done! C. was delighted, me too, because I liked this joke with the very bourgeois seascape from Marquet, adapting it to our times. And... last not least, I am a sort of pirate too, with my hijacking of pictures. But it's only imaginary, and light. Sometimes it's good to make light collages: it's summer, it's very hot in my study and life is easy as the song says.
The link to the bigger version:

This collage started with a picture of a camel race. It came quite quickly and I focused on the face. Afterwards I was thinking about the human condition and the sufferings people endure, especially in Africa: those terrible pictures of refugees in Sudan for ex. As everybody, I am aware that I am unable to change anything by my art, but it had just to come out of me.
There are still some aspects of this collage that I don't understand: the presence of the thumb and how the face fits so well into the animal's body. In fact, there's another collage which shows the same merging between man and animal:

The content here is much lighter - it is more a joke about men today: they got a ring through their nose, but behave proudly.
Enjoy!

I rewrite this commentary which has been erased.

In fact, it started with the hand full of pills. I cut it out and began looking for a matching photo. The idea was “addiction”, the promise of happiness and death. But I got stuck; I didn't find anything I liked. Only something very illustrative. And I don't want a univocal collage, a clear message like in propaganda. It’s not what I am looking for. So at last, I found the picture of the woman and then the one with the torn face. It was like in a dream when I put it against the hand: I felt that I had it done. Why? Because I followed form, not content, I gave over to my hidden artist (or my intuition) who knows better than me. How? My wife is surely right when she thinks that as a little Jewish boy in Germany, language was dangerous, so I developed a way of thinking in pictures, before elaborating words. They come afterwards, when I am looking at my collage: I understand that the nurturing of the hungry girl is an ambiguous gesture made of love and murder. André says that those pictures come from far away, even before childhood, in hidden memories I am unconscious of. The hidden artist gives me the chance to carry out this heritage which reveals itself without giving the key to a rational understanding. The enigma remains, but I can glean some apercus. This explains why I am so dissatisfied with univocal pictures. Which pill is the right one? Or should one refrain from taking any of them? Is it like Pandora’s box or the ticket to heaven?