Dominique Foyer

Like many of today's famous painters who have found grace and beauty on the edges

of the small ports of Honfleur or Trouville, Dominique Foyer also discovered "things that are still there

more beautiful" as Monet confided to a friend.

        With his painter's eyes, he explores, searches, feels; very quickly then his brush finds and retains

the water, captures its tremors, its shivers, its shadows that twitch and reveal long stems that

lean elegantly and frail above these liquid and wind-crumpled surfaces like a mirror.

Untiring, the painter sinks into the marsh, everything vibrates, the light, brief flashes of thunderstorms, gradations, black hatches bite on grey almost bushy, washed, which invade the eyes, the load of clouds

is threatening and dark, massed like an army.

       Suddenly, the sky and the earth are reversed, nature is overhead, ink and water push a

the harsh world and you can almost hear the whispering of the mud that is swarming with an ignored life. Everything is troubled, the constant and wearisome work of water against the soil gulping down the ground precipitates us into a kind of landslide of crashes, at night, of drifting blue. In a corner, a silence, the risk of a white of a hesitant pallor, quickly won by this grey, a little dreamy of ink and water, which are a unique soul, a link with the impalpable, the unspeakable.

       From this immersion, we return with the regret of not having seen everything, because the painter is singular and his sharing is discreet. "The world is too beautiful," Renoir grumbled. For Dominique Foyer, the white of the paper, earth and sky, ink and water are the real world, a word that is dear to him.

                                                                                    Excerpt from a text by Marie-Claude Sandrin