Christine Muller

I enter the studio…
Light is everywhere. It’s high time to leave. I take a treasure with me. An object that catches my eye. This shell on a piece of furniture. The bird at the window. A memory, a sensation, a word, a tear. The bold peeling.
No matter, I’m leaving. So begins the long, amazing journey…

On the canvas the shapes settle in and challenge me. I will hunt them down, blow them out of breath, disproportionate them until I find their fragile point of balance. I will reinvent their light. Offer them another symmetry. Try to set them free.
The preliminary drawing bores me deeply. It would freeze on the canvas a story that would not have lived and would take away my humanity from the work. My necessary process of doubts, failures, despair. I need to know nothing in order to let myself be carried away…

I will construct with rigor with the sole aim of deconstructing. Then build again on the dying and stripped canvas, a possible future. I must find the essentials for my rest. Finally, the completed work can only be born from this fight.
Disconcerting ballet where gravity and lightness intertwine closely…

The thrill is still there.
The stories that I paint always amaze and nourish me, but even more, I am amazed by this thrill that never leaves me and prevents me from forgetting what, when I was a child, I found beautiful…

Christine Muller