It is evoked in my aerial views of the sea, clouds or mountains, from the window of an airplane. Air travel is a ritual of mobility and, at the same time, of standing still, of connection to both the present and the infinite. This work leads us to question the past, the future and the present that lies in between.

By looking at these paintings, they put themselves back in the now habitual situation of looking out of an airplane window during a journey from point A to point B. Suspended, seemingly motionless, they defer to the pilots and the course of the flight.

The landscape below them seems almost motionless, yet the plane is moving forward at several hundred miles per hour. In this way, they find themselves at several angles to the passage of time: the viewpoint of the present moment, the viewpoint of the past moment, the viewpoint of the past moment as they relive it in the present, and the - as yet improbable - viewpoint of the potential future.

As they watch the waves, the mountains or the clouds slowly roll by in miniature, they enter a psychological and introspective dimension.

“He shows that the separation between space and time is not absolute: it depends on the reference frame.

In fact, what relativity says is that there are as many proper times as there are different observers.”

“On the other hand, if you move in relation to someone, when you meet up with that observer again after your journey, your watches, which were synchronized at the start, will no longer be synchronized.” (to understand how, read Etienne Klein’s interview by Marine Corniou for Québec Science, 10.23.2014).

“Proper times become desynchronized when you change reference frames. This translates into the fact that, while two events taking place in two different places are simultaneous for you, they are not for observers moving relative to you. It's counter-intuitive.” (ibid.)

The deep blue hues shift subtly across the canvas, creating an illusion of movement and depth. Delicate, almost invisible brushstrokes layer to form a rich tapestry of patterns, evoking the serene play of light on water. The edges of the piece appear rough, as if torn from a larger whole, enhancing its organic, fluid nature.

The use of chiaroscuro enhances the sense of depth and allows glimpses of a dark and mysterious sensation. This piece compels the viewer to ponder the infinite, ever-changing nature of the ocean, inviting a meditative exploration of its complex, layered beauty. It asserts a bold simplicity in capturing the ephemeral essence of movement and stillness.

Although the themes at the heart of my small paintings (time, memory, projection) are as abstract and intangible as my landscapes, one of the most immediate impressions of the objects themselves is that of painterliness and materiality. Drawn to these works by their intimate size, one finds a surface so finely detailed that it becomes enveloping and immersive.

By the way, my evocative seascapes and mountain landscapes are more the product of a state of mind, than the representation of particular places. The only reason to call my works landscapes is cultural : it’s simply that viewers automatically register them as a landscape, although none of the images can be traced to a geographic location. I like the idea of landscape as a structure, rather than a real place.

Sensations of temporality permeate these works—as portraits of meditation. It's a question of temporality in motion, of time moving forward. Although figurative in appearance, my work often verges on abstraction. Apart from the view of palm trees and a small hut, there are no people to narrate the scene, nor objects to establish a sense of internal scale. The approaching or receding clouds, dense with pressure or bathed in light, tranquil, always suspended above the suggestion of sea or mountain, become their own context, without external reference, suggesting no specific place.

My characteristic marking, for this series of works, resembles that of an etching, sometimes an engraving. The paint surface is scratched, hatched and scored, with brush marks that seem to have removed pigment and revealed the underlying colors. This technique creates a liminal, breathable surface.

Like Hiroshi Sugimoto's long-exposure photographs of the sea, Lucas Arruda’s and John Constable’s seascapes, or Vija Celmins’ Ocean paintings and drawings, my paintings aim to accumulate time in a still image, slowly revealing itself, with layers of pigment becoming progressively more opaque or lighter and, at the same time, suggestive of ever deeper space and enigmatic experience.

Devoid of specific points of reference, the seascapes are not delimited by horizon lines. On the contrary, their direction is always diagonal, suggesting movement or displacement.

Rather than observing nature, I seek to discover a sensation, a state of mind suspended in time within the medium of paint.

It is associated with my reflections on time : Vacations are a time of “in-between” in life. It separates one period, generally of work, from another period, of work too, or more generally, of life. The small beach hut seems closed, the plastic tables and chairs stacked one on top of the other. The forest, a monochrome “anthracite” brown, is in relative half-light. It's the end of the day, the sun is descending behind the trees (the shadow of a trunk on the sand gives us this information).

The lazy day on the beach and in the water is now over, and it's time to head back to the hotel, or home at the end of the vacation, with a new look at the passage of time and the philosophical question : What do we do now, where do we go from here? This is the only painting in the series to have been given a title : Where are we now? in reference to David Bowie's song of the same name.

Dominating the composition are towering palm trees, their fronds stretching skyward, creating an imposing canopy. The lush, densely packed foliage serves as a backdrop, rendered in dark, rich tones that evoke a sense of mystery. In the foreground, two vibrantly colored huts, one green and the other yellow, stand out vividly against the natural backdrop. These structures introduce a delightful contrast, adding liveliness to the otherwise serene setting.

My technique, characterized by thick brushstrokes and layered textures, imparts a tactile quality, inviting viewers to almost feel the roughness of the foliage and the solidity of the huts. The play of light and shadow further enhances the visual interest, casting a soft, diffused glow over the entire scene. This depiction transports viewers to a tranquil yet enigmatic tropical paradise, keeping them entranced with its beauty.