First Parisian exhibition.
There is an inevitable feeling of calm and quiet as soon as you enter the gallery, its walls completely covered with works by Jérôme Conscience.
All seems peaceful, serene, conducive to rest and meditation. No strong colours, an ensemble of white works, a few touches of blue or red, one piece totally black, a nod in the direction of Soulages.
Then, getting closer, one is surprised to discover unexpected phrases painted on the canvasses, personal, political, religious, social themes.
On two walls, small formats, in nearly matching tones, most of which reveal frankly salacious or sexual plays on words.
Our first impression turns to surprise, a smile, then questioning.
Guy Bloch-Champfort: Why is the major part of your work dedicated to sentences?
Jérôme Conscience: It happened a bit by chance. When I was a student at the school of Beaux-Arts, I became quickly interested in the work of Marcel Duchamp, Robert Filliou, John Giorno, Jean Dupuy, also Charles Fourier, the phalansterian born in Besançon. I like Philippe Leotard and his poetry collection. I have read and re-read “Not a day without a line”. I skipped classes on Wednesdays at Beaux-Arts to attend philosophy courses at the University, and began to fill notebooks with all sorts of phrases imagined or heard in conversation, without really knowing what I’d do with them… I felt close to the minimal esthetic concept of Lawrence Weiner, Joseph Kosuth, Carl André, Dan Graham.
Something clicked when François Morellet exhibited at the Fine Arts school (ISBA). When we were asked to respond to his work I did a composition written with adhesive letters on the wall, underneath his own work. I had found my visual art form. From adhesive letters on the wall, I went to adhesive letters on canvas then to paint on canvas.
The backbone of my work is the text, even if I use photos, video, and volumes. I like to play with words, play on words, expose the subconscious, slips of the tongue, and erotic connotations of the most insignificant words and phrases.
GBC: What is a “good” sentence?
JC: It has to sound right. It is important for me to read it aloud. It is a form of visual poetry, with a sound dimension, like a piece of music.
GBC: The subjects you approach are varied: political, religious, sexual, among others, often humoristic…
JC: Yes, I like joking, especially when it hides a certain gravity. Behind a forced laugh there is often real despair. What inspires me is what I read, see, experience. I am not talkative and my phrases allow me to express myself, to speak lightly about serious things, often drawn from the popular culture I come from. And then I like to let the spectator adopt the phrases, suit it to his own story.
GBC: You write in different languages.
JC: French is naturally the language I use the most, but there are also English and Spanish, the Western languages most spoken in the world. I work with Hebrew, Latin, Arabic as well, the languages of the three monotheistic religions, perhaps to associate the religious and the universal…
JC: I understand some English and Spanish, but I get help for precision in the translations.
Concerning Latin, that began with a phrase whispered by a colleague in a high school where I worked, a Latinist who’s become a priest since then: coito ergo sum which could be translated “I fornicate thus I am.” From there came the desire to write a series inspired by the Latin expressions in the Larousse pink pages. My love for Judaism led me to study Hebrew.
I read some, especially in the Saturday morning prayer book. But I get advice and correction from people who master the language.
Recently for Arabic, of which I know neither pronunciation nor spelling, I’ve had the entire expressions translated subcontracted.
GBC: Reading different texts about your work I was struck by the fact that there was little allusion to the concrete realization of your creations.
JC: And yet it’s of great importance. To be sure of a perfect result, I draw the canvas tight onto the under- frame myself, I apply around ten coats of a cold-white acrylic to give depth and resonance. Then, even here words have their importance: I like to choose colours according to their appellations: devil red, divine white, republic purple…
GBC: In practice, how do you produce your works?
JC: I evacuate the manual gesture when paint. The stencils are made industrially and the paint sprayed on. Most often I paint on canvas although sometimes I use other more technical supports. The material serves as a base for what I want to express: for example, for the series in Latin, I like the idea of a dead language on a quite contemporary support material called «reynobond», two sheets of aluminum which encompass a layer of resin.
GBC: Can you explain how you use colours?
JC: For the backgrounds I mainly use white, a bluish cold white, in order to confront an austere base with an often insane text. Sometimes it’s with the letters that the colours appear. There are also certain series with black letters on a black background, or white on white, using different tones.
GBC: Otherwise they could not be read! And even with different shades, these works seen from a distance seem totally monochromatic. One has to make an effort to decipher them.
JC: They are monochromes that speak with this idea of hiding, dispossession of self, like an ideal of concealment. GBC: Many artists use phrases today in multiple forms. Is your work becoming fashionable?
JC: If so, in spite of myself! I don’t pay much attention to what others do in the visual arts, I prefer looking towards literature, cinema, music. And as for fashion in art, I pay no attention at all!
Guy Bloch-Champfort, Author and Art Critic, 2016
GBC: You don’t speak those languages…