THE PAINTING OF CORINTHIOS IS A VERB
CORINTHIOS' painting is a verb.
For those who, for more than 25 years, have seen her battling, laughing, exposing herself, giving herself, crying and letting her colours transport her, one thing is clear, Christiane's painting is a verb.
Is it out of impudence that she invites us into her most subterranean mysteries?
Is it out of recklessness that she leads us towards her most vibrant blades?
No, it is because it burns with the fire of the most naive, freshest generosity, that of children... And that of mystics.
There is no difference between CORINTHIOS' painting and the ruthless deconstruction of the creative gaze, the one that burns appearances, that finds peace in the eye of the hurricane.
This appetite for painting, this calm frenzy, reminds me of Malcolm de Chazal: "Laughing everywhere else, in the spring only the water laughs. "
But don't panic! It is in this vulnerability, in joy and suffering, in this inferno of the desire to live, that the invitation to detachment shines.
Then the kingdom of the Word is revealed.
The painting of CORINTHIOS is a verb: TO BE
François Fronty - 2002
SOLIDARY, SOLITARY
The physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual experience that we call "painting" does not need words to exist. Even if words have been used in the service of painting since the Surrealists or Pop'Art, and without taking into account their (over)exploitation by graphic design and advertising.
Yet the importance of writings about painting, or generated by painting, is obvious. I am thinking of this short story by Camus, whose main character is a painter working on a canvas where one can distinguish a word, without being able to read it: is it "solitary" or "solidary"?
It seems to me that CORINTHIOS's painting lies precisely at the heart of this paradox. Solitary and solidary.
Observing intermittently the evolution of his work over the last few years, I see in it a singular story, with its hopes and doubts, its generosity and suffering. And I also see in it a reflection of the present times, those threatening times when solidarity of outlook is particularly necessary.
Solidarity and singularity of vision: possible words for CORINTHIOS' painting.
How can I go towards the other, understand him, that is to say try to love him, if I don't see that his chaos is also mine. As the Palestinian filmmaker Elia SULEIMAN says, "I want to lead each person to seek the part of fascism that they carry within them". Not for Christiane, who knows the history of these families where Greek, Armenian, Italian, Turkish and French are spoken. Hers, for example.
In the paintings of CORINTHIOS, I don't know if the words have broken in or if they have escaped from too much to say. But I do know that she continues on her path with courage, and that her work calls for our gaze, our ability to simply be attentive to our world in/out.
François FRONTY - 2005
CORINTHIOS' painting is a verb.
For those who, for more than 25 years, have seen her battling, laughing, exposing herself, giving herself, crying and letting her colours transport her, one thing is clear, Christiane's painting is a verb.
Is it out of impudence that she invites us into her most subterranean mysteries?
Is it out of recklessness that she leads us towards her most vibrant blades?
No, it is because it burns with the fire of the most naive, freshest generosity, that of children... And that of mystics.
There is no difference between CORINTHIOS' painting and the ruthless deconstruction of the creative gaze, the one that burns appearances, that finds peace in the eye of the hurricane.
This appetite for painting, this calm frenzy, reminds me of Malcolm de Chazal: "Laughing everywhere else, in the spring only the water laughs. "
But don't panic! It is in this vulnerability, in joy and suffering, in this inferno of the desire to live, that the invitation to detachment shines.
Then the kingdom of the Word is revealed.
The painting of CORINTHIOS is a verb: TO BE
François Fronty - 2002
SOLIDARY, SOLITARY
The physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual experience that we call "painting" does not need words to exist. Even if words have been used in the service of painting since the Surrealists or Pop'Art, and without taking into account their (over)exploitation by graphic design and advertising.
Yet the importance of writings about painting, or generated by painting, is obvious. I am thinking of this short story by Camus, whose main character is a painter working on a canvas where one can distinguish a word, without being able to read it: is it "solitary" or "solidary"?
It seems to me that CORINTHIOS's painting lies precisely at the heart of this paradox. Solitary and solidary.
Observing intermittently the evolution of his work over the last few years, I see in it a singular story, with its hopes and doubts, its generosity and suffering. And I also see in it a reflection of the present times, those threatening times when solidarity of outlook is particularly necessary.
Solidarity and singularity of vision: possible words for CORINTHIOS' painting.
How can I go towards the other, understand him, that is to say try to love him, if I don't see that his chaos is also mine. As the Palestinian filmmaker Elia SULEIMAN says, "I want to lead each person to seek the part of fascism that they carry within them". Not for Christiane, who knows the history of these families where Greek, Armenian, Italian, Turkish and French are spoken. Hers, for example.
In the paintings of CORINTHIOS, I don't know if the words have broken in or if they have escaped from too much to say. But I do know that she continues on her path with courage, and that her work calls for our gaze, our ability to simply be attentive to our world in/out.
François FRONTY - 2005