Over the last ten years, I have found that scrutinizing my personal experiences — the good, the bad, and the not-so-pretty — is essential to understanding my artistic approach and understanding myself. My work allows me to emphasize the nobility of the fight rather than the pain of the drama: I create works to transcend sorrows and to liberate myself from the rules of sacrosanct social acceptability.
My pieces on glass, crystal, wood, canvas and Plexiglas exude self-determination and freedom. At the root of my creations however, there is shadow, an evil, an injury. I have visited hell and rolled myself in the ashes of lost hopes, but I resurrect by swaddling each injury with colors that reflect my intentions.
My personal story is intrinsic to my art. I aim for my work to radiate resilience, optimism and spirituality, and not perpetuate the past. I cannot transform the world, but I can transform pain by creating beauty. My work will never be finished. Without artistic expression, I would remain tied in fetters, trapped in the past. My artwork is recognizable by sheaves of colors that evoke pyrotechnics: bouquets of light that transform glass or canvas into a feast of sparkles and twinkles. My paintings are driven by gestures that are becoming more and more precise over time. My movement reaches new depths in my incessant quest to capture light in motion.
It is an incandescent process. I have devoted myself for years into searching, testing, and developing a pictorial style that reflects my life, expresses my thoughts, transcends my memories, and dresses up my dreams. A trajectory that deliberately avoids the straight line, inspired by the mountains I now prefer to the Manitoba meadows among which I lived for sixteen years.
Using off-the-wall media surfaces influences my approach. At this stage of my art, glass and mirror call me. They allow one to see the first application of paint on the backside of the glass, then the final touch on the front. The viewer can simultaneously appreciate the first and last step of the production and get a glimpse of the path of creation, of experience. From the first trait of color to the last brushstroke, my artistic approach is an invitation to discover the act of creating.
My practice is one of slowness, to symbolically challenge the cult of speed. I want a slow beauty that generates lasting emotions. For brief moments, when I paint, I have the feeling of being in symbiosis with the world around me. Slow and steady wins.
I have always enjoyed the mystique of stained glass, especially in churches where I often sit, long enough to see the sun ignite them in harmony. I want my pieces to reproduce this kaleidoscope in a modern and contemporary way.
Through my art, I feel connected to everything alive, especially music. Some of my works are named after the musical pieces with which I have been in communion while painting.
My relationship to art has become a ritual that has taken me from egocentric preoccupation to contrition that I would dare to call religious. I try to express instinctively. To transmute myself, to defeat the demons, to give place to universal benevolence, to continue to shape my artistic identity. I aim to be true, without any mask or filter other than my brushes, with a polychrome approach, varied, and complex. It is a joyous pandemonium, for better access to a new level of mysterious coherence.
The book Shadow Syndromes by Drs Catherine Johnson and John J. Ratey has been inspirational. I want to translate into art the work of these two doctors who highlighted the shadows with which we must compose our lives. My 2019 collection will be articulated around the study of the benign disorders of the mind that have the power to sabotage our daily lives.