Max Coulon: Snoozed
While most people are asleep, Max Coulon models his fabled beasts in the twilight of night. Each of his creatures, half-animal, half-fantasy, is a chimera that defies logic, a hybrid that blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy. Together, they form a gallery of strange beings, silent witnesses to the artist鈥檚 imagination.
Like Udo Rondinone鈥檚 stacked stones, Coulon鈥檚 sculptures seem to defy gravity, striking a precarious balance between heaven and earth. But while Rondinone鈥檚 work evokes calm and serenity, Coulon鈥檚 depicts chaos and tension, a perpetual struggle between order and disorder: 鈥業 sculpt as though speaking a language I don鈥檛 master鈥�, explains the artist. 鈥業 try to circumscribe the words I don鈥檛 know 鈥� for instance, 鈥渢he sky of the room鈥� for 鈥渃eiling鈥� 鈥� or I pronounce a sentence backwards, or I try to translate specific expressions literally and watch them resonate in a language in which they no longer mean anything.鈥� This description points to the tension that marks his work, a perpetual balancing act between the known and the unknown, the visible and the unspeakable.
Despite their heaviness, his works seem to be in perpetual motion, like mythological creatures caught in mid-air or in full flight. Yet they are anchored to the ground, immovable, so heavy that they seem to challenge viewers to try and displace them. They could be seen as monuments to childhood reminding us of the cuddly toys we used to carry around with us at all times. Known as 鈥渢ransitional objects鈥� in psychology, cuddly toys allow children to project their emotions onto something other than themselves. But by choosing to cast his work in concrete, Coulon reverses the roles: now, it is up to the sculptures to draw our attention to them, almost like dots on a map. A subtle invitation to rethink our own relationship with the past, our memories and our imagination.
Gestures are central to Coulon鈥檚 work. His sculpting movements suggest the creation of an abstract work. Yet the result is surprisingly figurative, almost disconcertingly so. The dichotomy between the violent or chaotic process and the harmonious result is palpable. One can literally feel the violence of skinning stuffed animals or pouring concrete into baby clothes. This punk-like chaos is necessary to achieve the resulting softness.
The interplay of dull yet profound colours is another contradiction in Coulon鈥檚 work. The pastel shades suggest a kind of fading-out, a sign of wear and tear. Yet the sculptures are dyed in the mass, promising to withstand the wear of time, to remain unaltered despite the ordeals, despite the weather, despite the critics.
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While most people are asleep, Max Coulon models his fabled beasts in the twilight of night. Each of his creatures, half-animal, half-fantasy, is a chimera that defies logic, a hybrid that blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy. Together, they form a gallery of strange beings, silent witnesses to the artist鈥檚 imagination.
Like Udo Rondinone鈥檚 stacked stones, Coulon鈥檚 sculptures seem to defy gravity, striking a precarious balance between heaven and earth. But while Rondinone鈥檚 work evokes calm and serenity, Coulon鈥檚 depicts chaos and tension, a perpetual struggle between order and disorder: 鈥業 sculpt as though speaking a language I don鈥檛 master鈥�, explains the artist. 鈥業 try to circumscribe the words I don鈥檛 know 鈥� for instance, 鈥渢he sky of the room鈥� for 鈥渃eiling鈥� 鈥� or I pronounce a sentence backwards, or I try to translate specific expressions literally and watch them resonate in a language in which they no longer mean anything.鈥� This description points to the tension that marks his work, a perpetual balancing act between the known and the unknown, the visible and the unspeakable.
Despite their heaviness, his works seem to be in perpetual motion, like mythological creatures caught in mid-air or in full flight. Yet they are anchored to the ground, immovable, so heavy that they seem to challenge viewers to try and displace them. They could be seen as monuments to childhood reminding us of the cuddly toys we used to carry around with us at all times. Known as 鈥渢ransitional objects鈥� in psychology, cuddly toys allow children to project their emotions onto something other than themselves. But by choosing to cast his work in concrete, Coulon reverses the roles: now, it is up to the sculptures to draw our attention to them, almost like dots on a map. A subtle invitation to rethink our own relationship with the past, our memories and our imagination.
Gestures are central to Coulon鈥檚 work. His sculpting movements suggest the creation of an abstract work. Yet the result is surprisingly figurative, almost disconcertingly so. The dichotomy between the violent or chaotic process and the harmonious result is palpable. One can literally feel the violence of skinning stuffed animals or pouring concrete into baby clothes. This punk-like chaos is necessary to achieve the resulting softness.
The interplay of dull yet profound colours is another contradiction in Coulon鈥檚 work. The pastel shades suggest a kind of fading-out, a sign of wear and tear. Yet the sculptures are dyed in the mass, promising to withstand the wear of time, to remain unaltered despite the ordeals, despite the weather, despite the critics.
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