Declaration of love under the rising suns flying at such a speed
that in places little crisp bits of Namur humor
from the Napoleonic era fall out from them.
Original acrylic painting on linen canvas
Artwork size : 24.02 x 19.69” / 61 x 50 cm
© Gallery of painter Eric Bourdon
Lille, France, 2022
The painting titled “Declaration of love under the rising suns flying at such a speed that in places little crisp bits of Namur humor from the Napoleonic era fall out from them” by Eric Bourdon does not aim at the visible, but it makes us feel our life where it experiences itself, in the inner trial of its passion, its suffering, its love, its humor and its joy, shapes and colors being only fragments of life. The artistic work is phenomenologically identical to what constitutes the revealing power of our life since it draws its truth from the invisibility and the unsurpassable immanence of life.
Declaration of love under the rising suns (…)
Zoom on the starting doodle
“Declaration of love under the rising suns flying at such a speed that in places little crisp bits of Namur humor from the Napoleonic era fall out from them” by contemporary painter Eric Bourdon gives itself in an excess of intuition, in an intuitive flow that surprises and disorients the expectation of the painter and the spectator. Thus the painting educates our gaze by inviting us to see something other than what we expected, to see differently. The painting thus arises as an event since it is given. Donation, being the immanent absolute essence of all manifestation, constitutes the essence of the painting. The phenomenality of the painting (which is also its eventness), confirms the right to appear in the visible of phenomena that refuse to submit to the conditions of our reason.
This declaration of love is a declaration of conscience. Within ourselves we become the declaration of love, the declaration of love becomes presence and we become a moment, which means that whoever approaches the viewer will also be liberated by their presence if they are prepared. Under the rising suns there is then neither painter nor spectator nor painting. There is only presence, love and the moment.