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Noovo Editions


Noovo Editions is an independent editorial project with online and paper editions. First of its kind in Spain from an unique and contemporary perspective on the international panorama, Noovo seeks not only to be an aesthetic arbiter but also a cultural mediator at the juncture between Fashion, Photography & Jewellery. A platform to show the highest level of creativity from around the world

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  THOMAS DEVAUX

WINNER of the "BOURSE DU TALENT Mode 2011"
organised by Photographie.com, in partnership with "L'Express, Nikon, La BNF et Picto".
NOMINATED for the "Prix Art Contemporain 2011" ARTE.
NOMINATED for the "Coup de coeur Photo" 2011 by L'Express Style.

Le Ventre (Zoom)
 

A Man’s body, with a capital W.
Chiaroscuro matter in which poles are drowned. A place of flesh, where the contours are negated or worn away. Life at equal distance form death: in permanent attrition.
This body might be utopian, in the sense Foucault gave to the word: incompressible, penetrable and opaque. Open, because closed, but with light present, escaped from places different, as if internal. The schizophrenic vision of a being transfigured into a carcass, delivered of its soul, an inhabitant of the human community. Stripped.
Its presence might underline the limit of the topology of the physical body, all too bandied about by our fashionable world. We will see this a little while: a space quantifiable in a different way, barely palpable. Faced with the fugitive universe, one could believe in an organic divinity, an immutable vestige that dwells in the overlooked, the unknown.
Attrition
The first apparition, beauty. And its sovereign seduction that memory always recognises. Thus confronted with the obvious, one might choose to leave the image there. At this moment the key title would start to rub. In the cortex the word would flash.
Attrition
Then and there we would cease this indulgent contemplation, as if the image were fading beneath the word-veil. And the first layer of this body would fade away. The position of the gaze would change its axis. The glaze would collapse beneath deficient memory, unknowingly faced with aesthetics in flight. Behind the smooth façade of the photo, an ethereal painting would begin to appear.
Attrition
Then the eyes might begin to distinguish a world being effaced as if they were watching death superimposed on life. And maybe a chill of dread would come to freeze the instant. Fear sprung from the shadows would palpitate the heart whilst awaiting the next revelation.
Attrition
Once again, photograph of the real. The painting of flesh torn beneath consciousness might scratch the capital F. The movement of the image might slash its scalpel across the muses’ mugs. The continual appearance of destiny beneath the pupil, caught up in the trap, and the imagination stretched to breaking point might place the viewer in the axis of fate. Touched by the humility of our condition, sated by beauty at a loss, it would swallow cruelty to digest the spectacle of anti-fashion. Then it could murmur “attrition”, as if asking for forgiveness, without pride, before the irrefutable. It is at this point, no doubt, that the eye would return to the beautiful, as one returns to the truth at the very bottom of the lie.

  Boucles Vertes (100 x 100 cm // 80 x 80 cm // 60 x 60 cm)
   
  Tatoo (200 x 130 cm // 150 x 100 cm // 90 x 60 cm)
   


Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition
Back from nowhere, the mechanics of the gaze would start to see again. The mechanical device would be a private, white room, sheltering the revelation of the image in a particular light. The seeing body would be in a state: you? Attrition? What? There would be a change through subtle friction of the layers of ‘living’. An internal eclipse, one might say, where something is unveiling itself. A body-mind-spirit alchemy for a visionary perspective, where the soul engages in a friction of languages and time. One could see elsewhere there. Life conjugated differently. You see? You shift your gaze, but only slightly. You perceive from within, just next to your usual habits.
Along the pages, faces, windows emerging. What if death subsisted on an existence unseparate from life? What if life had hitherto banished it as a taboo? You see these women like human totems.
One after the other, more and more stripped of their bodies, more and more centred in their gazes, their questioning faces. Along the pages more and more duplicates of themselves, slipped in far from their flesh. Duplicated phantoms, who double, triple perception. You witness this. Attrition waging the war of self versus double. It is no longer a question of memories imprisoned in a human body become too restricted to contain the story. Look at them, these models escaped from their condition of mendacious muses. Here they are playing another game with their bodies, tearing apart the fashion that wants to stop time passing. They laugh at the surgical terror that wants to rectify flesh that slides. They know everything. They have inhabited fantasy since forever. They know the cruelty of the real. Their skulls are those of the vanities that have traversed mankind since the beginning of time.

  La Bague (100 x 100 cm // 80 x 80 cm // 60 x 60 cm)
 
En Haut (Zoom)
 
 

 


They sneer at fear. They offer themselves up to all eras and within themselves reflect the course of history. They play the film on pause.
Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition
He, the orchestrator of the images, might have torn up books and ink. Been to collect tomb matter. With this he might have made up the faces and cloaked the bodies in flesh of dust. He might have retouched the dresses in order to turn them into ash. He might have glued together the torn to re-sculpt the vision of a being in the process of being revealed to his or her double.
And before this canvas reworked a thousand times, he might have deliberately deposited a sort of error. A place left to the winds, rendering null and void the perfection of things. He might show a woman come from the illusory and become the tool of her destruction. An abyss where pride of power and certitude of knowledge could be fatally buried. See that portrait of a woman in triple echo? She is whispering:
Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition Attrition
A pictorial tension on a background of myth. All the myths and Christ. The distortion of the real like a negation of the image contained in the work. One might think that the photo taken in the back-stage of fashion is the repentance on which Devaux the surgeon would doctor the aesthetic of time. Cynically, firmly, with impunity, engraving death in the heart of life.
Like the body, offered to becoming, the wandering eye can stroll through the book in attrition and note the story of the simplicity of a being just passing. The viewer could become aware of being in his or her own error. Made of flesh that rots in search of its eternity: neither for, nor against existing, but maybe already moving elsewhere.

By Bagheera Poulin
(translated by Chloé Baker)

  Le Voile (100 x 100 cm // 80 x 80 cm // 60 x 60 cm)
   
L'Arbre (160 x 160 cm // 120 x 120 cm // 80 x 80 cm)
 
 
 
More Info: http://www.thomasdevaux.com

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