Jimmy Beauquesne

Jimmy Beauquesne

Jimmy Beauquesne pushes forward contemporary drawing into a multidisciplinary practice where scenography and installations fluidly bring it to a multifaceted form. Drawing from unconscious associations inspired by screen-based trips and the Internet culture, Beauquesne reflects here on the emancipation from visual archetypes.

How would you describe your multidisciplinary practice? What informs your natural drive for art?

There is this expression, 'body of work,' it's a rather strange image. Lately, I've been thinking about my work, spinning this metaphor. I like to imagine the drawing as a backbone, the scenography as a skeleton, the wallpaper as skin, and my relationship with writing and fiction as blood. I often create systems to perceive what I do, hoping that one day I won't need them anymore and that I will be freer. As for desire, I can't explain it. It's my only strength, my only faith perhaps.

Could you lead us through your delicate coloured world?

I hope the entry doors are multiple. For me, fiction is powerful and inevitable. I imagine characters, and situations, and make them experience crises, my fantasies... I envision how emotions distort their bodies, and the environment around them. I believe that if one were to truly visit my multiverse, each door would open to a new form of apocalypse.

What do you believe the value of human creativity and touch is nowadays?

If, through the word "human," I have to talk about my relationship with new technologies, it is quite paradoxical. They frighten and fascinate me, but they have never been a source of desire for me. Instead, I trust my adolescence and the necessity to create that resonates with it. It might sound ordinary, but this desire is inevitable and never lies.

What do you privilege when thinking of how to exhibit your art pieces in an offline display?

It was once said to me that my work was "voyeuristic", and that it unveiled a lot, almost intrusively. Despite being naturally deeply reserved, I believe that this idea entices me—to see my work as a form of parasite. However, to be honest, I am incapable of producing that consciously.

What narratives and references build up in your dreamy, somehow mythological figures?

It seems that many narratives are obsessing me lately, and I must say that biblical characters have become a profoundly fascinating source for me. The faith of Abraham, the doubt of Saint Thomas... the way painters portray their faces, their hands—everything becomes a symbol, a language. I am not a believer, but these figures deeply nourish my work and life. It feels challenging to emancipate oneself from archetypes like these, yet I cannot shake off the need to reclaim and twist them perhaps to better understand them.

What's hybridity to you?

I don’t know, but I feel it in many places, every day. In meetings, collaborations, in moments of separation, and even in isolation. It's complex, sometimes enjoyable and painful. I believe that every hybridization requires letting go of something, but I would be too bored without it.

 
 

interview ILARIA SPONDA

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