then comes the irrepressible desire to dilute the ink – words, images, impressions, experiences, silences. A new desire surging at the core of a life always in motion. Ink and water blending with the desire, even unconscious, to document the world surrounding us; to document the living; to keep track of the hopes and sorrows that sometimes befall us abruptly. A tear falls on an instant, diluting the ink: softening it, freeing it. It dilutes the ink, but that particular instant remains: dilated, less striking, but enduring, because it contains a story. An entire imaginary world. Intuition attuned to the importance – transitory or lasting – of a new medium for expression. And going along with it. Letting the dilution of the forms form something new - let it be or control it.
or blue, ink and paper, always. The lightness, the fluidity of the motion, the emotion moving from the hand to the brush, then onto the paper. Onto the screen. A work in progress… sometimes choreographing the artist more than she leads the dance. It depends on the mood, the progress, the expectations – on how ink and movement will merge together. A single gesture, simultaneously encompassing a break and a convergence line. But invariably to merge. Transparency and texture: different than in photography. Different than on film. Different than in writing. Always different. And yet the artist holds onto her universe, her identity and her discourse. She continues down her path.
is the kind of artist that I love.
She is always moving. Searching. Always the same, yet never the same.
INK marks a departure with the work she started nearly 10 years ago when words were no longer enough for the artist to express herself, so she picked up her camera. Ten years of work is not insignificant in a life. It’s a story that takes root and then flies free. Ten years of patience, temptations, choices to be made and thought out, exhibitions, metamorphoses. Encounters, moments of joy, and sometimes let-downs, too. Ten years to conquer oneself, all the while going up to meet others. What would we do without these artists who never give up? Who battle all the climatic variations that go hand in hand with their status? Water is often present in the works of Karine Zibaut, as are other elements such as earth, roots, rust… Ink is the latest material in the hands of the photographer; it leaks from the tip of the brush, reconfiguring the never-ending story told by Karine Zibaut, in as many shapes as embodied imaginations.
rupture and continuity. A world in itself.
Day after day Karine Zibaut invents a whole vocabulary of signs resembling shreds of night, bats taking off, cutting or furtive shadows, stretching and creating networks of soot drips. Intertwined together, curled up or taking off on the sheet of paper, these shadows, straight from an imaginary ballet, dance and freeze beneath the brush of the choreographer.
From that elegiac vein opened wide by Karine, neither black nor red ink could flow indefinitely because Karine doesn’t do chromatic violence but creates a harmony of shades. Thus the in-between shade of half-red half-pink surges in large spatters, like lakes, overflowing with rivulets of clear water, ringed and/or slashed with black : some “choreographics” particular to the artist.
The ink paintings of my friend Karine Zibaut are for me the best metaphor of inner work. Thank you Karine for this never-ending source of inspiration.
It was a lovely morning neither too hot nor too cold, a mild morning from Anjou as the poet would say.
And off they went! Came out of the bottle and breathed in the air of freedom.
A desire of solitude? Not at all. Dance, music, songs and, why not, an air of rock’ n’ roll.
Together, here they are, gone dancing for the sake of fraternity, proximity and craziness…
Whispers, whispers… Whispers…
What? Us? Not the same, different? Oh, yes! That’s our beauty, our finery, our personality, our pride.
But have you looked deep inside us? Deep within that ink magma, there is a little beat, it’s the heart, it’s everywhere, it lives within us, in the equality of the creation of our being and others.
Jeu de mots
de Josy Perceval
Journalist, in charge of communication
For the past twenty years, Josy Perceval has been a recognized and active member of two french art museums : CenterGeorges Pompidou and IMA, Institut du Monde Arabe,in Paris.
Like a poetic ambivalence.
A scream between shadow and light. Between life’s force and its darkness.
Like a testimony reaching beyond words: emotions surge, carve themselves and illustrate our moments of truth to be shared.
Fouding President of Synchronicités