Tremor

in 'christian renonciat, Au fil du bois', éditions Carpentier. 2013

Behind the neologism of the title (shall I be granted poetic license ?) is an imaginary matter. Perhaps I felt jaded by the delicate embroidery of my cardboard fragments, and simultaneously I was encouraged by my friends in architecture to expand my work to the monumental scale. I begin to think of a primitive material, a bit prehistoric, earthy and mineral, shreds of which would have passed down to us through the ages: an archeological material so to speak. Half wall, half mountain, its inspiration is drawn from cardboard, and the wounds (rips) reveal the corrugations beneath, belying the surface aspect that suggest the density of hardwood.

Tremor is a condensation : the troubled surface of the Earth in formation, like a metaphor for what any person feels faced with a fearful event : a troubling sensation that may be frightening or delectable, experienced in sensorial confusion.

Technically, I moved from the gouge to the chain saw, and whenever possible I have tried to keep the energy of the sweeping cuts, the freshly opened feel of the gashes.

The surfaces of these heavy panels are coloured, or given a patina of age : various shades of green and blue are more or less projected, with a few discreet splashes of bright red. The appearance of a surface worn smooth by time is a stark contrast to the pale warm hues of the cut poplar, which has a ripped appearance.

Indeed the corrugated structures are revealed through a wound-like opening, but that movement cuts across the ridge tops as if on the horizon of a landscape, so that the overall impression is peaceful.