Arthur Coulon ( TonK )

And for good reason, following a two-week coma, this young man experienced a thought deprived of words. Forced to express himself through the pure image, he had to experience total, initiatory rediscovery. Delivered from words, freed from speech, freed from reference to the history of art, to others, he came to art through the freedom to be oneself, through the desire to live. It is this freedom that emerges at every moment that we invite you to discover. It is proof that the image thinks for itself, that the work does not need a speech or a reference game to be, to show, to be amazed. No words should be used, for it is a world that does not need them. A world of (re) discovery where everything remains suspended, more ghostly than impressionist. Here no difference between the interior and exterior, the two merge, coexist. However, how difficult it is to understand this strange double, this part of us which extends us and poses as a border. It only remains to draw it again and without slackening: thus Arthur passes from black to color, from color to form. He sees that everything is color, a succession of layers. The inner sky does not recognize any geometric shape. Life and its components are no more than impressions of words and colors. These are compound words, amalgamations of deposits. This world is at the same time hollow, flat and leaping. Everything is sensitive to the mood of the being who leans over it. The newcomer does not tame his decor. He is tortured by what he sees. A muddy brown with black spots surrounds a space where the being in the center falls, writhing in pain. It comes up against the colors but it returns to its centrality. They move, are built with him, as components of his being. They are its extension. The tones utter a moan. This music is that of colors. The stain which accompanies the sound, the sound which is constructed in image, the image in meaning, the meaning in anguish. The hour of the wolf from which the images come is not an attempt to stay awake, it is an attempt to remain what we were since dusk: a dream maker.