Eric Mangion: The main focus of your exhibition at the new art centre, Le Moulin, is Joseph Gaultier, a historical character who came to La Valette at the very beginning of the seventeenth century. Why are you so interested in this character?

Alun Williams: For me, Joseph Gaultier is a genuine star, a character full of colour and life, with a true spirit of curiosity towards everything, an enthusiastic innovator in the depths of the countryside- because it has to be said that there wasn’t much going on here at the time- even if, on a planetary level, things were really beginning to move. To have any of the action happen here, the only option was to go out and get it, and that’s exactly what Joseph Gaultier did.

First of all, to situate Joseph Gaultier in his historical context- he was born the same year as Galileo (1564) and died five years later than him (1647). It was the beginning of the Scientific Revolution, and a recognition of the importance of intellectual thought and at the same time the period that prepared Europe for the Enlightenment. It would be easy to think that all of this was happening only in the major cultural capitals of the time, especially in Italy, (Rome, Florence, Naples, Padua…) and also in Germany, as well as London and Paris. This is largely true, but it was also taking place at La Valette-du-Var, because of Joseph Gaultier’s active role despite his situation as simple prior of the little village of La Valette-du-Var where the population was certainly no more than a thousand at the end of the sixteenth century. Joseph Gaultier didn’t merely content himself with keeping up to date (a difficult task in itself) with all the new ideas of the period, in science and philosophy in particular, but was actively involved in their evolution through the organisation of conferences or intellectual symposia at La Valette-du-Var, to which he invited some of the most important European thinkers of the period. For my exhibition inaugurating this new cultural venue, it seemed appropriate to pay homage to the figure who was the pioneer of Thought at La Valette-du-Var itself.

Not only did Joseph Gaultier have an extremely open and international attitude, but because of his role as prior, he was probably in close contact with the population, too. For these different reasons, I like this Joseph Gaultier a great deal, and I was very interested in the idea of inviting him to preside in a way over the opening of this new venue dedicated to contemporary creation.

EM: How did this encounter with Joseph Gaultier occur ? I believe you already had an exhibition at La Valette some ten years ago, and this unusual character was already involved ?

AW: Yes, I began my response to that first invitation to exhibit at La Valette, by scratching around, to see if any particular characters had surfaced in the history of such a small provençal town. I found four really extraordinary ones who had exercised real historic influence, and among them was Joseph Gaultier. For the new exhibition, I wanted to anchor things at La Valette, keeping him as a point of departure, because of his strong symbolic value.

Then, in collaboration with him, in a way, I wanted to associate other historical characters with the project, kind of stars of former times, before the existence of the media-fuelled ‘star system’.

So, if the first exhibition I did here concentrated on characters from the local context, the thrust of the current exhibition begins at La Valette, and looks outwards towards a national and international context. I think this opening up to the exterior, while keeping a foothold in the local scene, corresponds both to the spirit of Joseph Gaultier, and also that of the new Contemporary Art Space that La Valette has

just given itself.

EM: The other characters you mentioned are Jules Verne, Julie Bêcheur and John Adams. Why have you brought them together ? And can you say a few words about the last two, who aren’t necessarily that familiar to the public ?

AW: I want to bring back to life some of the strong personalities of history. I work on each of them separately, but for an exhibition, it’s a bit like inviting people to dinner : “You know, I’d love to have Julie Bêcheur meet Jules Verne “. Thanks to the special powers of painting, these characters can travel in time and space, so they can get together at La Valette-du-Var, just like the great philosophers and scientists invited here long ago by Joseph Gaultier !

Julie Bêcheur was a figure from the time of the French Revolution, and clearly someone with real character, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many contradictory legends about her. As for John Adams, he was a major player in the American resistance against British occupation. He succeeded brilliantly, to such an extent that he became the second president of the United States. I find it very ironic that the current holder of that position has completely forgotten the lessons of his illustrious predecessor to such an extent that he prefers occupying other countries !

Adams was a great traveller for the time, and he knew France very well. Joseph Gaultier and Jules Verne are really going to appreciate him, I think- not to mention the beautiful Julie Bêcheur.

EM: We might easily have expected a documentary or narrative treatment of your subjects- but to the contrary you represent them in a really ambivalent manner. In fact they are represented by paintmarks, from specific places, usually urban. Can you explain the meaning of this ?

AW: In my preoccupation with the “idea of portraiture”, I’ve always been very interested by the possibility of injecting or extracting meaning from a (usually abstract) form, made from paint. Then one day, I realized that labouring in the studio trying to create a powerful “form”, was a little stupid. Imagining that it’s possible to keep some authenticity and spontaneity, when in fact it’s of course all about creating an illusion (like all painting) suddenly seemed contradictory and pretentious. So

I decided that I needed to go looking for paintmarks that already exist, with their own authenticity, and perhaps a pre-existing meaning.

I tried to proceed in the following manner : carry out research on a historical character (let’s call them the “portraitee”), in order to identify a place where this character had been particularly present, or where there was some kind of strong link with the character. The simplest example would be a street named after the character (it’s the case of rue Jules Verne in Paris), or else the place where the character had lived, worked etc…

Then, very simply, I go to that place, to see if I can’t find some kind of mark or “ trace”. At first I was really sceptical but straight away the results were astonishing. I always use paintmarks, accidental splashes or spillages that I find in those specific places. Very often, these paintmarks, found on the ground, on a wall etc… seem to suggest some kind of appropriate links with the character in question. That’s what really surprised me, even shocked me, and above all what encouraged me to pursue this further. After each discovery of an appropriate paintmark, I have to take the information and fortify it- the mark becomes emblematic of the character, and I reproduce it and repeat it in various works : essentially paintings and drawings, but also sometimes sculptures and photos. I want to really get hold of this link that

I’ve discovered between an accidental paintmark and a historical character and stimulate it, wake it up, catalyse it, help it, accompany it somewhere. Mostly I use the paintmark as a form or figure placed on a background. Often I want to place it logically in the historical character’s context, painting it on the background of the character’s life, environment etc.

At the same time, I often have the impression that I’m giving new life to this personality, and this allows me to let them discover the contemporary world, or to have them travel through time and space. This form that I didn’t create gives me the possibility of exploring numerous artistic avenues that open before me, helping me to do unexpected things with my paintings, while at the same time fortifying the potency and meaning of this poor paintmark, from now on grafted permanentlly onto its historical host.

EM: The strange thing with this practice that you’ve developed is that in the end these « paintmarks » create a certain mystery around the character they evoke. And paradoxically, a « mystery » is also a revelation.

AW: Since I’m dealing with these forms on a daily basis, they very quickly become extremely familiar. I really enjoy training myself to draw them from memory, so that they transform themselves gradually and take on their own life. You’re right that there’s a kind of mysterious side that comes out of their presence, but at the same time with the use of repetition (the same paintmark repeated in a body of work), there’s a real certitude and familiarity that sets itself up.

I’ve been aware that the spectator rapidly accepts the notion that a particular mark is a form of representation of a particular character – in fact that the mark “becomes” the character. I was very interested by the cycle of paintings made by the Australian painter, Sydney Nolan on the subject of the famous bandit, Ned Kelly. In these paintings from 1946- Ned Kelly’s head is always represented by a black square- in reference to a kind of primitive helmet that Kelly wore, according to the legend. This semi-abstract representation is extremely mysterious ; but if you ask an Australian today to draw Ned Kelly, the result will be a sketch of a black square on a body ! It’s all in the mind, of course, and it’s very clear that belief provides great potency. Once people believe something, you can take them a very long way. In painting, the spectator is always asked to believe, since by its very nature, painting is based on illusion.

On the other hand, in my way of working, I’m also trying to see things differently. I’m not the author of the paintmark, and the link I’m proposing between it and the historical character is no less true than what I’m proposing. I’m not hiding anything, so on that level, there’s no illusion involved.

EM: At the same time, your practice does relate to camouflage. The term itself is something you’ve often used in previous interviews. You even make the idea of camouflage it into quite a British notion, it seems.

AW: I’ve rarely had any desire to deviate from work relating to the“portrait“, and I’m naturally interested in camouflage because it’s at the opposite pole of painting. In portraiture, the paint is completely focused on the subject, while in camouflage, the paint sacrifices itself in order to become invisible. For a while I was making paintings on canvas printed with a camouflage motif (UN model, I believe). I found the presence of built-in connotations very interesting (military, political, fashion and art history…).

This interest has evolved in the current work. An accidental paintmark found in the street, exhibits a kind of “natural” or auto-camouflage, because it fuses completely with its background, to such a degree that nobody even notices it. This is the very mechanism of camouflage, and this is precisely the aspect that interests me, because I’ve found that the power of paint can be exponentially boosted when a completely overlooked and ignored paintmark is identified and appropriated by being given strong meaning. I often have the impresssion of a kind of homeopathic effect, where an insignificant dose has a disproportionately powerful effect on the subject, by exploiting the brain’s reaction. I think here it’s the principle of camouflage in reverse. Making the invisible visible, rather than making the visible invisible.

EM: At one moment you quoted Francis Bacon and his incredible statement that painting consists in throwing a bucket of paint on the canvas, and that the result would be a better resemblance than by any other means. The idea of this gesture and the image it conjures up are really irreverent. Do you see your practice in any sort of similar light ?

AW: Ah, Francis Bacon! It’s true that I was very influenced by him at

Art School. I ran into him a couple of times when I was living in London – though more often when I was working as a bicycle messenger than at openings when his appearances were pretty rare. Then there was the occasion in 1992 when I had one of the tickets given to artists for the bullfights in Nîmes.

It was the day after my birthday, and the amphitheatre was packed except for one seat next to me. I really felt a strong presence coming out of the absence that had installed itself on this empty seat in the middle of the crowd. After a while, I asked a few questions and learnt that the seat was reserved for Francis Bacon, only he had died the day before in Madrid ! Of course I really regretted not being able to meet him in those circumstances, but I still had a strong impression of having attended a bullfight with him; and it’s true that perhaps the idea of presence and absence is what links us together.

He’s certainly one of the greatest painters for me, even if today I find his work a little mannerist, and his statements, like the one you quote, go far beyond what he managed to do.

Since he always worked from photographs (saying that the presence of models disturbed him too much), I don’t think he could ever have achieved the ideal portrait he talked about, by throwing paint onto the canvas. He almost gets there with the “Jet of Water“ series, but these are not portraits.

At the same time, his desire, witnessed by that statement, was really to allow the paint to speak, by withdrawing as much as possible, the intermediary of the painter. It’s true that I would like to achieve that too, and I do think it’s possible by creating the right context. Identifying and appropriating a found paintmark, seems to me to propose something like that possibility, and it’s true that perhaps it’s my way of throwing a bucket of paint on the canvas, in the knowledge that it’s a way of getting closer to the “portraitee” than if I had a model, or for that matter used a photo like Francis Bacon.

EM: Can we go back to the “decors” that provide a backdrop to your characters ? What are they composed of, exactly ? Do they have their own story ?

AW: The important thing is to give life to this form- or rather to be able to accept the life of this paintmark that represents the character, or portraitee. For this to happen, the figure has to exist on a background, so it’s clear that the background plays a role that is far from secondary in the equation- for painting reasons as well as historical ones. In many cases, the research that I carry out to help me find a paintmark, also provides me with an archive of places, or sites that can logically host the character in question.

In this way, Joseph Gaultier can find himself, for example, before the Priory where he lived at La Valette-du-Var, John Adams in front of the “hôtel particulier “ in Paris where he was the first American ambassador to France, Julie Bêcheur in the gardens of Versailles, or Jules Verne in front of the house with a tower where virtually all of his literary production happened. All of that is very logical and literal at the same time, but, since the paintmark exists, and detaches itself from the context where it was discovered, it can also detach itself from any fixed context in time or space.

For me, there’s nothing to stop this piece of paint from wandering across time and space, taking along the character it “represents”. In this way, Jules Verne may find himself in a landscape of science fiction, or visiting Charles Aznavour’s 1960’s swimming pool, or even on a ground of bright abstract colours (this is Jules Verne after all !). In the same way, John Adams might be interested in the campsites of the

1970’s (in relation, perhaps to his social concerns), and Julie Bêcheur may visit the beauty contests of the 1980’s (in view of her innate curiosity in this domain).

The “arbitrary“ nature of these choices in my work has already been criticized. However, for me, none of this is arbitrary- certainly not the paintmark, but not the “decor “ either. Besides, these are not decors as such, as the word suggests too much artifice, whereas for me these settings are neither artificial nor arbitrary. Even if this is the area of the greatest intuition in my work, it’s nevertheless authentically pushed on by the historical character, which is to say, the paintmark. If by using these techniques and mechanisms, I manage to wake up a few selected dead personalities (with the desire to fix their presence in various settings like a pre-photography paparazzi) I also have the stongest impression that they are responding to me with their own wishes and desires, like celebrities playing to the camera.

EM: For me these “decors” are not secondary, whether they’re real or artificial. I see them as genuine constructions that are part of a game of scenarios that the visitor can build around the ghostly presences that each paint mark incarnates. They remind me of a quote from Carl Einstein, who said that art is above all the invention of spaces and the visions that accompany them. This seems particularly pertinent to your work.

AW: Painting is synonymous with illusion, right from the painter’s first stroke, and so right from the first stroke there’s also an attempt to escape from illusion and hide in reality, in one way or another.

I think that’s why I tend to avoid terms that indicate the artifice of painting. I completely understand why you use those terms here, but

I suppose I need to protect the way I experience my universe as something anchored in reality.

You’re going to say that I’m too difficult with words, but I’ve often looked for other words than “ghost” or “ghostly”, to describe those paint marks, even if I have to admit that they have a ghostly quality- there is, after all a question of awakening the dead, and letting them wander from period to period of history !

However, they make me think more of the imaginary friends of childhood, which for me extremely real- though perhaps they were just ghosts, too. I find Carl Einstein’s statement very good, if we can consider that by inventing “spaces and visions”; we’re also creating realities.

EM: It’s natural that you consider that your pictures are not fictions, since your work revolves around genuine facts. But it’s also natural that the visitors allow themselves to build their own fictions. Your “images” are so enigmatic from every point of view. On the other hand, do you consider your work as a reflection on painting in general, especially once again through these paint marks that you discover as a result of your research?

AW: I think you’re right, since it’s true that in the end I’ve been following this way of working because it pushes me in directions that I wouldn’t take otherwise. And since that’s the motivation, it’s clear that I’m very interested in the possible evolution of painting.

For me, it’s a question of finding the best language, the most efficient vocabulary in order to express things. It’s true too, that I’m always irritated and uncomfortable when I see people (critics, curators, collectors etc.) who are excited by paintings that offer nothing new, and that could have comfortably existed in one or other previous historical periods. That such work exists, and may be good isn’t a problem- the problem is presenting it as groundbreaking when it isn’t ! So, anyway, it’s clear that painting for me offers a potential way forward in terms of expression, and it’s true that here I’ve always felt an enormous potential in the no-man’s-land which exists between figuration and abstraction.

A paint mark found in the street, for example, is at the same time totally abstract and totally figurative ! This position creates a lot of ambiguity, and leaves considerable space for the spectator’s imagination (as you point out), so bringing him/her almost involuntarily into the picture’s universe. And I think that’s natural, since the purpose of language is to set up a dialogue and solicit response.

EM: Speaking of research into painting and its language, I was struck recently by the importance you give to the frames in the case of some of your pictures. They create a real “volume”. Is this an area you’re still dealing with?

AW: If a picture offers a fragment of a parallel world (other world) it’s through its edges makes contact with our world (the real world etc.)

For me, it’s always very important to find a way of constructing this essential bridge between two worlds. It can be done within the painting itself, or through a way of framing.

This makes it a delicate question, and, it’s true that it’s one I’ve focused on a lot over the years, with different framing solutions including those you mention, where the frame, instead of protecting the painting, projects it forward. Then I’ve also used painted borders, unpainted canvas borders, etc.

So it’s certainly an area that I’m still dealing with, but I think I tend to deal with it now case by case, perhaps because in the end each picture demands its own solution rather than necessarily respecting a systematic one.

EM: To go back to the previous questions, the strong presence of these “borders” leads to a kind of materiality that gives the work in general a genuine form of reality.

AW: Yes, once again the point of departure here is above all the desire of allowing the paint itself to speak, in other words allowing this substance, this stuff that sits on a canvas to say what it will, and the same goes for a found paint mark that may have run across a pavement or down a wall. Trying to give real concrete importance to a paint mark or splash is in a way the counterbalance to this presence that you qualified as “ghostly”, those unstable characters sliding from one picture to the next.

It’s true that my interest in the materiality of paint has often pushed me to accentuate certain things, certain effects, with the intention of maximizing this materiality, this presence that I want to be very concrete and real. I’ve often made pictures where the background seems far away in space, then the character (paint mark) is placed really as if it was added onto the very surface. Maximizing this depth of field accentuates the materiality of the component parts, and particularly that of the character. The role of the “borders” is certainly another important element in this equation.

EM: Your exhibition project at La Valette also includes quite an impressive sculpture, I believe. Can you tell me about it ?

AW: I’ve already spoken about the importance of Joseph Gaultier for La Valette, in historical and symbolic terms, as a result of his incredibly open spirit and curiosity towards everything that was happening in the world at the time.

Since, for me, he’s really the focal character of La Valette’s history, I felt that he deserved a public statue, in the tradition of statues of important city figures. I’ve been experimenting for some time with the transformation of found paint marks into sculpture. There are some other examples in the exhibition- the small plastic figures that I made of John Adams, and another in plaster of the Jules Verne paint mark.

It consists of a projection in three dimensions of a paint mark. I use a fairly free interpretation to do this- I didn’t want to go through any computer process, for example, although that possibility exists. It’s really interesting! The found paint marks are so figurative that imagining them in three dimensions seemed logical.

The transformation is always quite unexpected, and while the form departs to some extent from its original state, the results are always surprising for me.

So I proposed a “statue” of Joseph Gaultier to the municipality of La Valette, and we began working on the project. A mold was made after a model that I fabricated in polystyrene, and then the statue was cast in a new alloy similar to bronze. Since Joseph Gaultier was really the pioneer of Thought in La Valette, I’m hoping that this abstract form, presented on the esplanade in front of Le Moulin, will function as a true homage to Joseph Gaultier.

Even if for me, it represents Gaultier himself, by the intermediary of the chosen paint mark, I feel that this large form, which seems to be growing out of its plinth, can also evoke the arrival of intellectual thought, philosophy, astronomy, etc. in La Valette-du-Var.

EM: Finally, could we say that your painting practice is also a way of dealing with sculpture ? In a veiled manner, perhaps.

AW: That’s an interesting question, since I think you may be right, even though I feel that I’m wholly rooted in the history of painting. I also think that in contemporary art (even in the generations that are most allergic to painting), painting or at least a part of its history have a considerable influence, and certainly far more than the history of sculpture. I believe I’ve already spoken quite a lot about the desire of allowing paint as matter to speak for itself – and I think this attraction for “matter” offers a real connection with the matter that makes up the world – in other words with something truly situated outside of painting. I’ve also alluded to a kind of discomfort that I might feel sometimes, because of the close relations that painting has with the question of illusion – and this also pushes me towards the materiality of painting and a concrete reality that I might look for here.

It’s true that I consider the sculptures, such as the statue of Joseph Gaultier (by far the most ambitious I’ve made so far) as resulting wholly from my paintings, and from the original paint mark – and this is certainly the case. On the other hand, they are far from being byproducts since they present something very pure – pure “matter” in fact, without the slightest superfluous aspect, which always exists in painting, even if we only consider the stretcher and so on, without even getting into the possible superfluousness that can exist in pictorial terms ( !). So, in a way the sculptures succeed in a way that painting can’t quite emulate – in other words by truly allowing a mass of matter to express itself through its independent existence in the world. This might seem to be perfect – and perhaps it is, in fact, too perfect because with painting there’s always an incredible battle for expression in the face of the constant threat of superfluousness.

My sculptures are effectively the result of painting research – in a way they are the logical destination of that research, but I’ve always been most attracted by the journey that has to be made to get to a destination – and that journey itself is painting, always painting.

Eric Mangion, Nice 2007
Critic and curator
Director of the National Contemporary Art Center in Nice, France.