We meet the artist at her
studio in Ivry. It's a large rectangular room bordered on one side by a series
of wide bay windows that allow the light to stream in. The countryside spread
out before her eyes is vast, cloudless and wide, punctuated by railroads that
create a geometric pattern. A little suburban train passes by regularly, and
though it is not heard, it marks time in its own way. And time is one of the
concepts essential for understanding the work of Agnès Thurnauer. To her, time
in art history is not a fixed concept but a living, fluid one in constant flux.
An artwork begins to exist from the time it is viewed, whether it was finished
two thousand years ago or today. It is the gaze of the viewer that animates the
work, gives it life, and makes it contemporary. As such, the Franco-Swiss
artist is always contemplating and taking inspiration from the art of all eras,
in all forms. "It's like I'm at Lascaux when I'm at the studio, in this
room that's isolated from the rest of the world; all silences and words reach
my ears acutely amplified, more naked and clear than they were at their origin.
So everything can be heard, and everything can be said in painting," says
this tall, slim brunette in a measured voice, taking the time to weigh her
words and give them their full value. Thurnauer greets us at her reconstructed
studio reached via double ladder in the Galerie Valérie Bach in Brussels.
That's right – her studio is in the same space as the gallery, the place of
sale. She inserts metaphor into a play on mise
en abyme, writing a palimpsest. She conjures up feminine figures from art
history who enter into dialogue with each other. We spot the silhouette of Mona
Lisa conferring with a friend, and we can read their confidences: "and
with Leonardo?" "it's over!" We find Artemisia Gentileschi, the
great female painter, holding her arm up to apply a dab of paint to a work she
was unable to paint. There is also Suzanne Valadon, an artists' model
(especially for Degas) before becoming an artist herself, nude and holding her
paintbrush; we can almost hear an old melody in the background as she paints.
Like a gigantic badge, a tondo in bright yellow resting on a pedestal indicates
the presence of Josephine Beuys (the female alter ego of the famous German
artist Joseph Beuys). The waitress at the bar of the Folies Bergère has also
found her way here; covered with typeset text, she is still a familiar
presence. Agnès Thurnauer is not summoning her forebears in painting; instead,
she is inviting and dialoguing with them. They speak only of art and the places
they were created. This is why in the gallery, certain walls on which the
paintings are hung have been covered with an enormous printed photograph
reproducing the paint stains spattered over the white walls of the studio,
making the artist's movements come alive, fleshing out the body that works and
creates. The studio takes the viewer inside the secret world of creation; in
discovering these places, he slips into the private life of the artist and her
work. "The solitude of the studio does not distance the artist; it is all
the more populated because it is isolated. It's the isolation that guarantees
the presence of people," says the painter. If you happen to be in
Brussels, go visit the studio of Agnès Thurnauer – you will surely feel her
presence; for, as she explains it, "The spirit of an artist, her first
studio, is a place of pilgrimage, confrontations and beginnings. It's a canvas
in itself! It's where images come to life."
