What does the series In Majesty
exhibited at the Omnibus tell us?
It's the last series I created. It reinterprets figures of power to lead us to question our legacy of how we symbolize power, to question the figure of power. Whether it's a king, a pope, a general, or a president. I borrow postures, types of representation from art history. Alexander the Great is depicted as an ancient sculpture of the imperator, but he's a young man of today, wearing modern clothes. A woman in a satin dressing gown with a quill in her hand is like Marie-Antoinette in Gaul, as painted by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun in the 18th century. It's also a game with the viewer, where I give clues to lead the viewer on the right track.
Is it a timeless power, or is it anchored in our time?
This series speaks about our relationship with power today. But this power relationship is rooted in history. Presenting oneself as a strong man or woman when one is a leader is completely rooted in the representations we had of Catherine II of Russia or Napoleon. And that we continue to have. We also show a power that is being unraveled, with many characters who have ended badly. It's also a power in complete disconnection. It's precisely all the facets of this power that I want to show.
Is it a portrait?
I don't really do a portrait in the strict sense. If that were the case, Darius would be called Brice; that's the name of the model. It's not a portrait in the art historical sense, even if in the series En Majesté the line is blurred: is it a portrait of Darius or a portrait of Brice? For me, it's a representation of Darius. What interests me is not so much the person as their symbolic resonance, the way in which a contemporary body can convey, through a gesture, a posture, or an accessory, a collective memory or an iconographic power.
And at the Pari?
It's an exhibition on portraiture shared with Philippe Pujo. I'm exhibiting works from another series called Melancholy. With elongated figures and a dreamlike quality that work well with the landscapes in Philippe Pujo's Sleeping Beauty. We have a fairly conceptual connection in how we approach painting that brings us together. It's a really relevant exhibition.
Do you need to know art history to paint?
For my part, yes, it requires knowledge: my paintings often draw on art history, religious, mythological, or political iconography, majestically depicting the uses of power through images.
So does the audience need to know the classics to understand your painting?
For the viewer, this knowledge isn't necessary. The title opens a door: it evokes something, sometimes precise, sometimes vague. It activates a dormant memory. And the image must speak for itself; it must allow projection, recognition, and sometimes even create confusion.
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