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Pilard Nicolas
Il y a cette scène, où le Casanova de Fellini tente de s'enfuir sur une mer de plastique.C'est une scène de tempête, où la barque essuie des déferlantes, les personnages des embruns.
Tout est en mouvement, le fuyard et ses poursuivants tanguent, pris dans un enchevêtrement de vagues.
Tout bouge, mais rien ne se déplace vraiment. C'est une poursuite immobile dans un paysage d'artifices. Une tempête dans un hangar sur ce fragment de lagune vénitienne qui tient beaucoup du sac poubelle.
C'est un jeu de gesticulations qui, à bien des égards, est celui que je m'efforce de mettre en scène : une danse dérisoire.
Il y a aussi que, chez Fellini, la surface luisante et striée de plis, animée par une soufflerie, joue autrement qu'une mer déchaînée. Ce sont des vagues sans écumes qui répètent un gonflement régulier, une respiration.
L'évocation de la mer est un prétexte, le stratagème est le clou du spectacle. Comme le balai devenu cheval pour l'enfant. Un objet plus mimétique pourrait-il obéir avec autant de souplesse au scénario du jeu ?
L'objet symbolique est métamorphe, le cheval peut devenir un fusil en quelques secondes...
Lorsque, pour un de mes premiers volumes, j'ai planté une pierre dans de la tôle, l'idée était d'en faire une île. Mais un bout de tôle ondulée comme champ de vagues, vraiment... plus je la regarde, plus je la trouve aérienne, une espèce de chauve-souris minérale.
Dans la peinture, le dessin, on a une telle maîtrise sur ce qu'on manipule qu'on doit trouver des protocoles pour y introduire de l'inattendu, de l'accident. Il faut trouver les moyens de se faire bousculer par une forme et être attentif à ce qu'elle réclame.
Dès qu'on fabrique quelque chose, de manière plus flagrante, le matériau a son mot à dire.
Il faut lui demander poliment ce qu'il veut, comme Louis Kahn à la brique.
En ce moment j'interroge des cailloux, des bouts de bois, des tuiles, des parpaings, des bris de pots de fleur, des morceaux de pavé de plâtre... Après avoir peint l'idée de la décharge sauvage, du fatras, j'y vais pour de bon ramasser des choses.
Je me rapproche.
There is this scene where Fellini's Casanova tries to escape on a sea of plastic .
It's a scene of storm when the boat rides breaking waves, the characters are sprayed.
Everything is moving, the fugitive and his pursuers swaying, caught in a tangle of waves.
Everything moves, but nothing actually shifts places. This is a motionless hunt in an artificial landscape. A storm in a shed, on this fragment of Venetian lagoon that looks like a bin liner.
It is a game of gesticulation, which in many ways is the one I am trying to stage : a derisive ballet dancing.
Also, the gleaming and creased surface animated by a fan, stands for something else than a raging sea. They are scumless waves which repeat a regular swelling, breathing. The allusion to the sea is a pretext, the scheme highlights the show. Like a broom turned into a horse for a child. Could a mimetic object obey with as much flexibility, the scenario of the game?
The symbolic object shifts shapes, the horse can become a rifle in a few seconds...
When, for one of my first sculptures, I drove a stone in corrugated iron, the idea was to make an island. But a piece of corrugated iron as a field of waves, really... the more I look at it, the more I find it aerial, a kind of mineral bat.
In painting and drawing, there is such control that we must find protocols to put in the unexpected, an accident. We must find means to be jostled by a shape and pay attention to what it demands .
As soon as one builds something, more flagrantly, the material has a say .
One has to politely ask it what it wants, like Louis Kahn did to the brick.
Right now, I ask stones, pieces of wood, tiles, blocks, pieces of flower pots, pieces of plaster pad... After having painted the idea of wild dumping of rubbish, I 'm going there to pick up things.
I 'm getting closer and closer
Nicolas Pilard, Marseille, 2014.
Vue d'exposition Nicolas Pilard. Galerie MGE, Paris, 2013 (Photo N. Pilard).
There is this scene, where Fellini's Casanova tries to escape on a sea of plastic. It is a scene of a storm, where the boat wipes out breaking waves, the characters in the spray.
Everything is in motion, the fugitive and his pursuers sway, caught in a tangle of waves.
Everything is moving, but nothing is really moving. It is a motionless pursuit in a landscape of fireworks. A storm in a shed on this fragment of the Venetian lagoon which takes a lot of the garbage bag.
It's a game of posturing which, in many ways, is what I try to stage: a derisory dance.
There is also that, in Fellini's work, the shiny surface streaked with folds, animated by a wind tunnel, plays differently from a raging sea. These are scumless waves that repeat regular swelling, breathing.
The evocation of the sea is a pretext, the stratagem is the highlight of the show. Like the broom that has become a horse for the child. Could a more mimetic object obey the game scenario so flexibly?
The symbolic object is transformative, the horse can become a gun in a few seconds ...
When, for one of my first volumes, I planted a stone in sheet metal, the idea was to make an island. But a piece of corrugated iron like a field of waves, really ... the more I look at it, the more I find it aerial, a sort of mineral bat.
In painting and drawing, we have such mastery over what we manipulate that we have to find protocols to introduce the unexpected, the accident. You have to find the means to be pushed around by a form and be attentive to what it demands.
As soon as you make something, more blatantly, the material has a say.
You have to ask him politely what he wants, like Louis Kahn at the brick.
At the moment I am questioning pebbles, pieces of wood, tiles, concrete blocks, broken flower pots, pieces of plaster paving ... After having painted the idea of the wild landfill, the jumble, I'm going there for good to pick things up.
I am getting closer.
There is this scene where Fellini's Casanova tries to escape on a sea of plastic.
It's a scene of storm when the boat rides breaking waves, the characters are sprayed.
Everything is moving, the fugitive and his pursuers swaying, caught in a tangle of waves.
Everything moves, but nothing actually shifts places. This is a motionless hunt in an artificial landscape. A storm in a shed, on this fragment of Venetian lagoon that looks like a bin liner.
It is a game of gesticulation, which in many ways is the one I am trying to stage: a derisive ballet dancing.
Also, the gleaming and creased surface animated by a fan, stands for something else than a raging sea. They are scumless waves which repeat a regular swelling, breathing. The allusion to the sea is a pretext, the scheme highlights the show. Like a broom turned into a horse for a child. Could a mimetic object obey with as much flexibility, the scenario of the game?
The symbolic object shifts shapes, the horse can become a rifle in a few seconds ...
When, for one of my first sculptures, I drove a stone in corrugated iron, the idea was to make an island. But a piece of corrugated iron as a field of waves, really ... the more I look at it, the more I find it aerial, a kind of mineral bat.
In painting and drawing, there is such control that we must find protocols to put in the unexpected, an accident. We must find means to be jostled by a shape and pay attention to what it demands.
As soon as one builds something, more flagrantly, the material has a say.
One has to politely ask it what it wants, like Louis Kahn did to the brick.
Right now, I ask stones, pieces of wood, tiles, blocks, pieces of flower pots, pieces of plaster pad ... After having painted the idea of wild dumping of rubbish, I 'm going there to pick up things.
I'm getting closer and closer
Nicolas Pilard, Marseille, 2014.
Nicolas Pilard exhibition view. MGE Gallery, Paris, 2013 (Photo N. Pilard).
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