excerpt
Pascal Beausse
(excerpts, p. 36-40)
(...)
Let's say it like it is: there is nothing original about
enlarging an object nowadays.
It has even become one of the most common and
widespread features of present-day art. The most
identifiable sign, the lowest common denominator
of the ‘contemporary art' category, seen by way of its
popularization. What is more, advertising, marketing
and propaganda —three forces connected these
days within the overall spectacle, aimed at a citizen
seen solely as a consumer, and generating symbolic
poverty— have appropriated the enlargement of the
consumer item on the basis of the ‘popular' success
of Pop Art.
But what, then, are we to understand in the
reasons prompting Lilian Bourgeat to enlarge
objects in his turn, too?
At night, the artist dreams of immense objects,
and in the morning he gives them the power of
reality through a Photoshop montage on the computer
screen, then he joyously looks at their material
execution. “ I always have the impression of
being self-taught, ” he says, to such an extent does
each new project give rise to new technical difficulties:
each and every time, the object production
process has to be re-invented. Despite these difficulties,
in his desire to do away with the boundaries
of what cannot be made, Lilian Bourgeat could
well reproduce the entire contents of a supermarket! We would then be in the presence of a tangible
manifestation of the futility and the marvel
of the abundance of things that we produce, consume,
and throw away every day, once used.
“ I understand everything ” is written on the sheet
of paper clutched by a woman visiting a Lilian
Bourgeat show, in a drawing by Philippe Vuillemin.
Collisions between the artist's intention,
the interpretation by those professionally
involved with his work, and the reception by his
viewers themselves, all provide the draughtsman
with inexhaustible matter for gibing at the habits
and customs of the petty world of art. With him,
the artist has come upon more than an irreverent
critic. Each work produced by Bourgeat tallies with a Vuillemin drawing. As if coming straight
from the pages of L'Écho des savanes, the drawing
assumes its independence while playing the
part of a zany notice, poking fun at the work in
the very place of its presentation. Discussions on
art, be they scholarly, pedagogic, fashionable or
communicational, are endangered in their claim
to having authority and a last word when it comes
to meaning. The fact is that Lilian Bourgeat's art
has a double trigger (and even more than two, if
there are affinities). The enlargement he inflicts
upon the object is a decoy.
(...)
Lilian Bourgeat's art is phonily likeable. It gives
you the impression of being attractive, accommodating,
or, equally, insignificant, depending
on what you believe about art, and depending,
too, on the criteria on which you think you can
rely to appraise artworks; and his art puts you
off your stride. The immediate seductiveness
brought about by the exhibition of giant objects,
perfectly reproduced in their forms and materials,
and the aspect of ‘funny art for 3-to-103-year-olds',
are merely traps. Bourgeat does not just create
three-dimensional reproductions of objects on a
magnified scale: he creates an arrangement. An
arrangement that encompasses the spectator and
does without him. An ambivalent arrangement,
because the piece desperately needs spectators if
it is to work. Photographed on their own, most of
his sculptures are of little or no interest; you think
you might identify some commonplace object in
them, and if you do not have any indication about
their dimensions, their perfect reproduction renders
them meaningless and insignificant. But
if someone is photographed beside a sculpture,
then everything changes: not only is the sculpture's
size revealed, but above all the human figures
next to or near it appear ridiculous.
The Swiftian paradigm, needless to say, has the
effect of relieving viewers of their haughtiness, by
depriving them of their usual mastery of the order
of things. Even more, however, these arrangements
push people aside, assail them, eject them outside the display area, and make them realize
that there is no place for them there. Then begins
the nightmare of the human being's lack of adaptation
to the environment he has given rise to.
Lilian Bourgeat makes no claim to re-cast a spell
on the world. With Vuillemin he shares a sense of
black humour, with fierce, bold strokes, and playing
with an alleged ‘bad taste.' It is the absence of
any art morality pinpointing conceits and at the
same time having fun with the ridiculousness of
amplified everyday situations. By inviting caricature
into the very nub of his activity, he destabilizes
the approaches to the work, causes the
authority of his praxis to waver, and ushers in a
philosophy of doubt. The crisis besetting dogmas,
commonly admitted and shared in comfortable
consensuses, here takes on a provocative, libertarian
force. Through fantasy and wit, the artist
affirms a refusal of alienation. And we emerge
from this ordeal of our certainties… taller!
