Roselyne de Feraudy’s photographs don’t look like other photographs; in fact they don’t look like anything. One could say that they are “abstract” and, for that reason, they call back to another art form and of the great changes that marked it at the beginning of the century: the pictorial revolution of abstraction.
But if painting can consider that its task is no longer to represent the world can lay claim to a possible “other” content, the “abstract content” explicitly defined by Kandinsky as the bringing together of the emotional forces of the soul, how can this apply to an area where the camera lens aims squarely at our world and sees nothing but that? How can simple and naturally exact reproductions of our daily world create this feeling of coming from elsewhere, which art can communicate?
Out of this world, Roselyne de Feraudy isolates unrecognizable fragments from which it is impossible to reconstruct ordinary objects, familiar views. We are in front of novel, invented things, absorbed completely in their own and unrelated to anything.
Roselyne de Feraudy might well tell us that this kind of estuary between jagged chalk cliffs where flows a night without memory, is in fact the back of a statue of an angel on the Ponte Sant’Angelo; or that this superposition of layers of carbon sucked into in the upside-down image of a monochrome forest, is in fact the reflection in the muddy Tiber of what might in fact have been trees or houses; or again that these geometrical structures embedded in each other, immobilized forever in their perfection, is in fact the detail of a mosaic: these “explanations” have lost their pertinence and we hardly hear them, fascinated as we are by the splendor of the pure forms, of a light which invades everything.
There is also hard matter in there mineral paintings, exalted only by the liquid element, which no longer belongs to our world but is a sort of pure matter which allows for other constructions, an infinity of other universes – those presented by these “photographs”.
Author of a book on Kandinsky, “Voir l’invisible”, Bourin, 1988.
Paul Valéry complained that in photography human values were progressively lost. Nevertheless, a good number of his poetic intuitions have the consistency of objects and the spiritual materiality of the photographic image.
Besides, this absence of humanity inherent to photography transposes into images the altogether different reality of an altogether different universe capable of making us grasp the value and the quality of its sensitive perception.
Roselyne de Feraudy interprets with delicate and poetic colors the structures and the lines of a metaphysical city of diffuse lights and rarefied atmospheres. We are at once in the world of reality and elsewhere.
Man is no longer the measure of things; rather it is the things themselves that tear down the apparent barriers to impose their profound and harmonious identity, their vibrant being together, their poetic intensity, in the midst of the relationship between man and his environment.
Man is always absent from Roselyne de Feraudy’s severe and limpid pictures. In this white city, man doesn’t draw attention. But he is there in the form of a subtle and magic presence, which, without being vaguely and falsely poetic, knows how to give precise names to things, to walls, to structures, to colors, to architectural forms.
In the relationship between reality and the imaginary, Roselyne de Feraudy creates a strategy of immense formal magic and extreme compositional beauty. We are very far from a superficial, decorative, hedonistic beauty, from a beauty, which has always determined our ways of thinking, our human and esthetic choices.
Was journalist of Corriere della sera newspaper.
Corriere della Sera, 1989.