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- CULBUTEURS art et moto-culture

- IMPRESSION, soleil couchant - Lou Sarda

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- Jean Faucheur - Où est la photographie ?

- Gilles Elie Cohen - EROS Pigalle

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- Youri Lenquette - KURT COBAIN - The Last Shooting

- Youri Lenquette - PUNK NUGGETS - Original Artyfacts 1977 - 1985

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- Jean Faucheur - Sans Titre

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- John CRASH Matos - CRASH fait le "M.U.R"!!

- THOMAS FIEBIG - La grande bouffe

- JEAN FAUCHEUR - Peinture Nouvelle


- John CRASH Matos - Paintings with a Hidden agenda

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- URBAN ART...from walls to studios...

- Pax Paloscia - Forever young

- Skwak - Histoires grotesques et sérieuses

- Jong Myung Hwang - Faceless

- DAN WITZ - Recent Works

- John CRASH Matos - "Betances 1973-82"

- Tim Biskup - O/S Operating system

- SLICK 08 - Contemporary art fair

- Siegfried jegard - Far Away Eyes

- Sophie Toulouse - Nation Of Angela. Chapter07.

- Skwak - Born to be a Maniac

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- Place 54, L'expo

- Monsieur Siegfried Jegard est un MONSTRE.

- Dan Witz - Mosh Pit

- WK Interact - Double impact

- Justin Morin - Eyes’ River

- Sophie Toulouse - nation of angela. chapter 06. the battle for noa

- Olivier Kosta-Théfaine - I'm a Sartouvillois baby!

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exhibition's views

Sans Titre


Exhibition from April 6th to May 18th 2013

Exhibition from April 6th to May 18th 2013
Tuesday – Saturday 11:00 - 19:00

download the press release    download the flyer

L'absence de titre d'une œuvre, est un titre en soi...

Since a decade, Jean Faucheur pioneer of group experiences, felt the need to return to a more personal manner by constraining himself to a studio work, i.e. paradoxically within and out of the walls. Street requires a quickness of progress which forbids any right to error but lets imagination dilate in a more free liberty of the frame. Studio grants a freedom and the ease to make but keeps in confinement, incites to gain in profoundness what one looses in surface.
Such a discipline is lived by Jean Faucheur as one more challenge sent to his need to renew himself while preserving what he loves in street art: the energy in the script and the direct relationship with the public. Meanwhile he remains faithful to his lifelong tool: the spray which allows to graze the surface without ever touch it, limits the power of the motion, lays open to undulations of the course, such as glimpses of the unexpected, opening on the most unconscious perspectives of creation. Further advantage, the distance imposed by the use of this technique adds fuel to the fire of the enticement terms existing between the creator and his work.

For this perpetual innovator, why, then, not take advantage of this experience in also catching the image and the sound, commodities of the modernity? Yet, in his videos such as Jelly Fish, lighting effects modulated ectoplasmic shapes at the music’s dictation or, such as Images animées, the monotonous motion of the metro mixed the colours of the trains and of the underground stations at the tempo of a deafening noise of engine and rails.

In this exhibition, Jean Faucheur goes further: he uses the kinetic genius of the audiovisual as a tool of the very making of the work. On these faces captured as pixels, colour unperceivably comes and adds itself, by small touches deepening into a kind of travelling before the proposed work. Different pictures then emerge which, far from scrambling the lineaments of the characters, slowly unveil their essence behind the indiscreet decency of a frosted glass. The resulting blur comes to exceed the surprising details in the clinical representation of photography. In the same idea, bodies get rid of their lascivious nudity or their unprovided banality, thus steeping in a molecular universe, multicoloured bubbles which remind us our atomic origin.

Thus goes the artist’s motion which, without cease, does pioneer work, superposes, changes the perspective, without himself too much knowing what he is to discover. It suggests that our look deceives us on what it guesses it sees. Thus is ad infinitum renewed the bearing of an approach which pulls some more secret from its subject matter as that the artist lays his colour. Jean Faucheur ends up by overcoming the sometimes reducing realism of photography in order to let his bomb conquer our imagination. He forces us to search in his canvas to go beyond what it shows or let feel.

Of Auguste Renoir, he has kept the static evocation power of the foreground, of his son Jean, the cineaste; he has remembered the tremendous dynamic of the depth of field of which he offers an impressionist version.


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