Clémence Amette

There's nothing academic about Clémence Amette's drawings. They're child's play, arrived at by accident and for her own pleasure. Cookie, cactus, shawl, mouth or babouches... The things of life intersect with blurred shapes, which she calls "tasks". The fact remains that, in these charades made up of unadorned sketches, the image precedes the verb, a final touch also given by instinct. These quasi-automatic writings, which can be humorous or moody, convey a message of varying length and personality, in capital letters or fly-legs, on thick paper. Their grain creates a surprise, following the random mode of sketches traced with a light, calligraphy-like gesture. Lately, Clémence Amette has been scribbling on screen, changing the palette of her diary, originally kept in red and black. Mustard, lavender, tangerine, indigo... Straightforward colors, all seasonal, tease the reserve zone, the realm of white where the hand and the word take a breath. Unfinished, these prints, enhanced with ink and pastel, in turn convey the mood of the moment.