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J. FLEUREAUX : SHAPES AND COLORS

Shapes and colours, height and width. Yet dizziness soon overtakes you. Reminiscences catch the eye. You sink infinitely into a fathomless abyss. Centuries flash by, colliding with cycladic marble statues, with the beams of timeless vessels, with sand-washed pebbles. With time warps and black holes, the colossal turbulence from the beginning of time. Plummeting frenzily with e massage beyond language.

SIGNS AND LANGUAGE

Jacques Fleureaux paints that which is beyond language. Or rather the quest for language. The belief that somewhere there is a secret place where things and feelings and ideas can be perceived, comprehended, grasped, as they whirl around together.

This is a universe where the mind is constantly mobilized. The eye fist, obviously, explores the infinite, painted in shades of ochre and brown and black and blue, with hues of fluttering and pulsations and quivering, like just before a storm. Then just as you are about to tumble, you are suddenly hailed by the signs, ties, bonds, bands, spanning the surface of time as abstract writing. Both indecipherable and linear B, they nevertheless seem familiar, created by a lithesome hand or the staccato of a machine, inscribed or blown in like a dawn. Signs. Pure concept.

ABSTRACTION PAINTING

Jacques Fleureaux. He tames his inner seething against mediocrity to paint his works, which are also texts that yield a cry. Abstraction surely, but only in the sense that the worlds it describes are hidden from sight.