Artist

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Yulia Filippova, contemporary artist, born in Siberia (Russia) in 1975. Lives and works in Grimaud (France).

Filippova paints directly on the ground, to visualize the entire work in all its forms. Far from the easel, the work comes to life horizontally. The artist turns and turns around his canvas to grasp all the details.  The gesture is sure, sometimes rapid, leaving a more diffuse trace on the canvas. Sometimes pressed, to deposit a thick and opaque mass. Filippova works with a multitude of successive layers until she obtains a material that vibrates with light. She throws, splashes.. The gestures, the body in its entirety is a brush, a spatula, a knife which can, in turn, claw, scrape, caress, scarify these masses of paint, to extract the light, or observe the darkness. And impose an implacable reality on the eye.  In a generic way. The brush. The extension of his body is only the tiny part of the impact on the canvas. An almost esoteric dance is put into action to express one's will with relevance and certainty.

Painting is then only a pretext for her spirit.

Beyond this reality.

From the presence of his work before us.

Filippova transports us to a sphere imbued with rigor, power and incomparable aesthetics.

Graphics, harmony of colors, play of shadows and lights, like a sculptor, the artist forces us to see and almost to touch.

Paintings like beings must be free in themselves and leave free.

Free to wander in the immensity of the canvas.

Go far, very far in so little space.

Like a flower that blooms in the early morning, as the day breaks.

A Web

An artwork

One of them is born.

It is thought, written, colored, adorned with a multitude of gestures, inscribed in the gaze and thoughts of the writer. Of the artist.

Its unpredictable flow gradually becomes part of the material.

I look at the work and I have the intimate feeling that the painting enlightens me. It ignites the absence of a thousand shapes and colors. A writing. An almost primitive abstract writing.

The observer must cross the border, pass the void of his own absence.

A question then arises. A necessary and essential question.

What secret love does the painting bear the fruit of?

Reminiscence of a past and digested life, Filippova with a sudden and jerky but always controlled gesture, created a spontaneous calligraphy of a mixture of white and black, of incisive or broad impact.

Write or paint, almost imperceptible edge.

Creation is the act by which Filippova gives form to what she has received.