see more
January 2023
Not all repetition is wasted. Some repetition is even useful, either because it marks a point or because it drives the point home. The act of repetition provides the satisfaction of a job well done, the assurance of an equal, if not better, result with each repetition. With persistence, other paths open up. Unexpected paths that we thought had no exit.
Nadine Altmayer and Christian Grelier know this. Never tired of drawing short, boundless, stiff or lascivious lines, they continue, as always, with a painstaking work so simple that it can be done without thinking. A work born of familiar gestures, so familiar that they comfort, and therefore repeat themselves, for hours, days and nights in a row. Then, in an opposite movement, time stops and accelerates. The means are, of course, different: Altmayer weaves, Grelier traces. But from wire to charcoal, the end is similar: a poor, raw, carnal art, an art of origins that can be observed for a long time, like a well. In the face of this army of fragile fishnets, of omnipotent fetishes, in the face of these Zen gardens murmuring illegible characters on the wall, we must remain silent. The effect is soothing, thanks to a pared-down palette that sticks religiously to black and white, with the exception of touches of blue, red and rust. This dual palette is a guarantee of peace: the dark side and the desire for clarity are equal, at least in appearance. Deep down, the balance is precarious and traces of struggle can be seen, signalling the chaos that lurks in a corner, a hollow or a full space. If the surface is damaged up close, it is because everyone is brutalising it: Grelier hits the wheel with a spatula, Altmayer cuts into it with a grinder. Cratered or polished, their delicate meshes seem to come from yesterday and from afar. When they suddenly move, an air of mystery hangs over them, like a breath of life.
Virginie Huet