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Dec.2010      Marie-Hélène Grinfeder

In front of Olivier Deresse’s painting, one is lured into an intense, dense universe; both harmonious and irregular, where shimmering and piercing shades give rhythm to the space. 

It could be the close-up of an endless painting, repeated into infinity.

Tatters, layered shreds of paint are brought together to form a harmonious combination.

The base and the surface fuse and interchange, colours recede and advance, fragments of things suggested spring from the essence of sensitivity.
The eye is engaged and active before a surface one first thought was still, unwittingly seeking some landmark, a sign or guide to understanding these shreds of paint that play hide and seek between themselves and with the viewer.

Unsure and shaken in this chaotic and elusive universe, one seeks solace in the recognition of a familiar element: a tree, a fragment of sky, a glimpse of ocean.

Reassured, one imagines having found the key to a mysterious landscape, which, in fact, only lures the viewer more deeply into the enigma.

I know Olivier Deresse well, and I know that the sum of these fragments and layers is made of contained violence, controlled but also painful.
This landscape is the underworld of the soul, an asylum where intense sensitivity hides beneath these glorious strokes.

Success in his studies and then in his profession was not enough to divert his urge for solitude and self sacrifice that he felt was his ultimate goal; an “interior need” that made itself felt with strength and clarity, carried by the solidity of experience and unwavering determination.

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