I See the Sea and the Sea Sees Me. The docks painted by Yvan Salomone are not places of departure or transit points of goods produced by mankind ready to be distributed. They represent deserted areas devoid of human presence, portraying ships at anchor or at dry dock; empty piers; stationary cranes; broken rails, isolated shanties on construction sites; demolished break-water barriers; piles of containers; motionless vehicles; warehouses and rubble.
I See the Sea and the Sea Sees Me, 1991-2000
(1957, Saint-Malo; lives in Saint-Malo) The docks painted by Yvan
Salomone are not places of departure or transit points of goods
produced by mankind ready to be distributed. They represent deserted
areas devoid of human presence, portraying ships at anchor or at dry
dock; empty piers; stationary cranes; broken rails, isolated shanties on
construction sites; demolished break-water barriers; piles of containers;
motionless vehicles; warehouses and rubble. The feeling of desolation of
the viewer could reach such heights that he tends to seek consolation in
anything familiar to him, such as an inscription, a staircase, an elevator,
packed bags, etc.
This experience could be compared to that related by Robert Smithson
in The Monuments of Passaïc: after visiting a suburban area of a similar
forsaken nature, he spoke of a bridge, of a concrete buttress and a
dragnet, forming what he called a landscape resembling ruins upside
down, which did not have anything to do with the romantic ruins, as the
buildings have not fallen into ruin after construction; they stand there as
ruins before having ever existed.
The obvious effect of the ruin and picturesque style, which
unquestionably could reset these paintings, is mainly due, however, to a
crystal-clear vision of the composition, where everything, even disorder,
seems to be openly premeditated. This premeditation starts from the first
stages of the artistÃs activity: he chooses from a stack of photos, then
projects the images himself on the canvas, remodelling their design with
his paintbrush. This is the case of his big panoramas (57 x 388), which
he created at the turn of the ë90s, although he did not modify his style
when he changed over to watercolours in August 1991. The
watercolours he paints at the rate of one per week are always on a
canvas of identical size (104 x 145 cm). The last week of December
1996, he also painted a copy of the famous "mazzochio" by Paolo Ucello
- a model of a Florentine hat in a geometrical shape with a facet surface,
which became the symbol of perspective, and in his case, could be
considered to be a sign of the crystalline dimension of the composition.
The marks left by the drying colour on the canvas, which marks his
watercolours, (although it is more fitting here to speak of sedimentation
rather than crystallization) could also be taken as a metaphor of pictorial
art. A metaphor, which assumes other nuances when Y. Salomone
speaks of a curtain of tears, of a drying of tears.
In connection with the exposition, Y. Salomone will also publish a book -
Genève 351 (Geneva 351). The book (with a limited circulation of a 100
copies) could be the allegorical embodiment of his pictorial art. A
previous publication, Paris 260 (1997) integrated his watercolours into a
network of crossing images: a pin-up of the 50s, an anatomical board,
an X-ray, a page of Lulu by Wedekind, works of art : the Gilles by
Watteau, the last painting by Edward Hopper, showing him with his wife
coming to greet the audience as an actress at the end of a performance.
The reproduction of the last painting by Giorgio de Chirico, Fin de siècle
(End of the Century), and that of an installation by Joseph Beuys, La Fin
du XX siècle (The End of the XX Century), confirm this atmosphere of
endgame. It has given rise to the idea that each painting by Y. Salomone
defines a critical moment, where any spectator could project himself, as
in a throw of dice.
Mamco
Museum of modern and contemporary art
10, rue des Vieux Grenadiers, 1205 Geneva, Switzerland
Tel. + 41 22 320 61 22 - Fax + 41 22 781 56 81