De tuin der lusten

GEM museum voor actuele kunst, Den Haag, 28.08 till 07.11.2004
reviews

GEM, exhibition view, 2004	Les Fleuves, 2003, polyptych, oil on canvas, 100 x 1050 cm

Coeur no 7, 1997, oil on canvas, 60 x 73 cm	Lorraine no 1, 2002, oil on canvas, 73 x 60 cm	Lorraine no 8, 2003, oil on canvas, 73 x 60 cm	Paysage no 15, 2002, oil on canvas, 60 x 73 cm

Catalogue Le jardin des delices

The GEM published a catalogue:The garden of delights, 92 pp. color, € 19,50.
To order it, or for more info, please mail to the Gallery (see under contact)

Bruno Perramant, without title, 2002.

Cher Peintre...
Lieber Maler...
Dear Painter...

Centre Pompidou Paris, June 12 till September 2, 2002
Kunsthalle Wien, September 20 till January 1, 2003
Schirn Kunsthalle Frankfurt, January 14 till April 6, 2003

Exhibition among others
Francis Picabia, Sigmar Polke, Alex Katz, Martin Kippenberger, John Currin, Neo Rauch and Luc Tuymans.


Paris, New York, Paris, Tema Celeste, 2001, by Bruno Perramant

CDG-JFK

There's a screenplay by Pier Paolo Pasolini that's never been made into a film. Planned right down to the smallest detail, it recounts the life and martyrdom of Saint Paul, in the twentieth century. As we all know, the story has a bloody end-a pool of water stained red with blood. Paul is the victim of a conspiracy by the worst political Mafia. And so it was that I went to New York with my mind filled with these thoughts and the desire to make a film. Financial backing, was in place. All I had to do was trust my instincts. First, I had to find actors in that pulsating American metropolis-actors who would be able to express their belonging to, and exclusion from, their respective communities. A black would not longer be black, a Jew no longer Jewish, a gay no longer gay, a woman no longer female... Just a few days before I left, François had told his mother that she wasn't a woman because, while she was giving birth, his leg had popped out between her legs and she'd become a man. In that moment, a woman stops being a woman. François and I had a good laugh over that one. There are moments in life we can define as beginnings. I, for example, had left for New York with the idea of making a film from Pasolini's unrealised screenplay and ended up drawing and painting instead. There was also another beginning, more personal, more violent, more decisive, stronger, farther reaching. But precisely because it is personal, I wan't talk about it. If we have to find a reason for our work, then we should seek it, not in the final achievement, whatever it may be, but in remaining constant to our initial impulse. Over time, this act of fidelity can become an exercise in freedom.

JFK-CDG

Writing often provides the stimulus for my painting. Images follow later particularly those of my own films. A screenplay pushes me to expand my notions about the relationships between text, voice, and image. I have never made a film, however. I was inspired by the variety of languages and everyday imagery found in the American community, which led me to see painting as a form of counter-image. The result was two major series of drawings and paintings. Entitled "The Unhappy End of Saint Paul: America, No. 1 and No. 2," they pay homage to Martin Kippenberger and Franz Kafka, being filled with different voices: saint, philosopher, writer, and poet. There are other echoes too, of advertising, legal notices, or those singularly crazy voices that call out through the New York metropolis. Once again I must recourse to a memory inspired by literature. It's a clear image of a writer at his desk. Above is a board on which are written the letters of the alphabet. Below is a dictionary of the French language. This middle area, between alphabet and dictionary, is where everything comes into play, including infinity itself. This is exactly how I see the painter's place. Above is a circle of primary colors, with black and white. Below lies every shape known to man and, most importantly, the impetus to initiate something. Later, other elements exert their forces; if I keep my eyes open, my ears work just as well. My desire to return to the open air resulted in the "Central Park" landscape series. This impulse corresponded to a scene from Pasolini's screenplay in which Paul pauses for a moment to meditate-if this was good enough for him, it was good enough for me. I set out on a political apprenticeship of theology and came back with a political theology of apprenticeship. I want to put the images and language of the heart on canvas. It is in this context that my paintings should be understood.