The birth of chaos

For his first monographic exhibition, In Utero, Silvère Jarrosson consolidates his pictorial universe, which becomes a psychic cartography. It turns out to be a unique visual journey, a half-way house between a geological exploration and looking though a microscope.

WHile the map is well drawn, the territory is still undefined, and deliberately so. That is because this territory enjoys shirking, as the painting frees itself from the clutches of Jarrosson’s suspended brush, moving in a panel of evocations uniting opposites (the infinitely large versus the infinitely small, but also the carnal versus the inert), leading them in quite another direction.

In fact, Jarrosson uses the dripping technique in order to be better guided by matter—which, after all, is what is always at play when painting: the common taming of twin forces. The artist’s inspiration of the artist resides in the matter itself, in its potential—the latter perhaps almost autonomous, like a ballet corps? The painting comes to life. Grooves are drawn, conquered as part of a great design, the canvas apparently. yet within this project, each movement consists of a multitude of other movements, fragmented, at work on their own living design of fractal marks.

With canvas invaded, Jarrosson orchestrates his psychedelic magma with a knife, composing harmony and modulations with a particularly refined sense of detail. Each gesture contains a universe in itself, collectively presiding over a new genesis.

What is this genesis? That of shapes escaped from chaos. The subject of the exhibition is not the recognizable motive, defined by its function, that these shapes will adopt. Rather, the subject is their generation. The uterine night, gestation—one that is not yet language—is the central quest of any abstract painting.

In biology, the term in utero refers to physiological phenomena that could impact the development of the embryo. If the painting follows its own course, if each form follows its own migration, then the child will be mutant. Very often, Jarrosson’s compositions play on fractures, sudden anomalies that break the intent of his main motion. The cellular fauna refuses to be identifiable, odtensibly claiming to be anomalous: this is perhaps why in each canvas, supreme desolation reigns: murmurs about the sleep of a fragmented galaxy, or of a desert world, like the requiem for a figure that will not appear…

In Kubrick’s film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, the journey to the confines of the universe is the equivalent of a renaissance, where foetal fate is a star in the making Returning to sources is what any odyssey is about. Silvère Jarrosson’s odyssey involves turning this aspiration into a landscape, a skin to clothe chaos whose only possible fate would be latency.

The abstract flows in Silvère Jarrosson’s paintings are a magma of melanin, hallucinated variations of carnal forms, akin to geographical maps or satellite imagery, or even the workings of a microscope. The minuscule mixes with the infinitely big, cells with the stars.

Movement is created by contradiction: without it everything remains frozen, permanent. Unifying of opposites? Acrylic emotion—that of the unexpected—sneaks onto the canvas and impresses its paths as if it had a life of its own—a special intention for which Jarrosson serves as guide (or, perhaps, by which he is guides?) through a journey of gesture and dosage. Thus, while the process initially appears to be the elaboration of a deserted cartography, without humanity, it will eventually let an enigmatic presence transpire. We feel its breath, its breath is unpredictable but its precision guarantees the testimony of its immanent lands.