My vision

Each of my paintings is a birth, the fruit of a long gestational process. Time stretches as a tenuous thread between the present and eternity, seeking the slightest breach in which to sow doubt. Saturated pigments, transformed into softly rigid, glossy matter, anchor themselves to the linen, and through the assemblages of miniature sculptures form a dark yet extremely luminous narrative.

These forgotten fragments, having outlived their protectors, were once outdated but now become the face of Humanity. To the sound of the sea a veil of worlds circling in the storm of genetic memory. Children of Wooden Legs offer my phantasmagorical vision to a new audience.

The matter beneath my fingertips; old paper, worm-eaten wood, cracked porcelain and one-eyed dolls; looks at me and whisper a barely audible melody: What use am I?  None!  But tomorrow what use will humanity be? The obsolescence of grey matter infects the landscape with achromatopsia.

Emotion invades my senses and consumes my mind, imposing a staging upon me as the only path to appeasement from News so heavy with consequences. These creatures, in a discreet and relevant manner, give through their presence an homage to their progenitors. A still life; drowned in the deepest darkness; sees the light gushing in, freezing emotions in a final dance of shadow and light.

Allan Lesueur