Hélène DELPRAT: I HATE MY PAINTINGS [Je déteste mes peintures]

A development seems expected: I hate my paintings because… I hate my paintings therefore…
No. I hate my paintings, period. No comment.
So what is it about? Is it coquettish, an absurd slogan, a complacent little line? You might think so.
But no, it is well and truly a declaration of war that concerns only her (only them?).
But against who? Against what? Against painting itself?

It reminds us of the crazy enterprises of Don Quixote, protected by his helm, a ridiculous barber’s basin, waging war against clouds of dust. Hélène Delprat has always known that painting is a battle lost before it’s begun – against time, against the souls of the dead – and that is what makes her angry.  She has very often attempted to escape this time-consuming passion.
In the 2000s, she declared herself an ex-French painter, and created small gouaches containing the words:  Where is the painting? (WITP) It must be this Way, or Another failure, How not to paint by painting? Disaster…
Neither films, nor scenographies, nor the radio programmes that she so enjoys creating can truly satisfy her, because she sees painting everywhere. Everything is painting. Everything exists for its mise en œuvre: Books, landscapes, conversations, films, walking, or the most insignificant things.
Like the scorpion in the fable told by Mr. Arkadin, Hélène Delprat, defeated, declares:
“It’s my nature.”
Because it’s her nature to live this way.

Exhibition from 10 October to 7 November 2020
A book of images illustrates this work.