Une saison en enfer III, 1994, gouache and crayon on paper, 79 x 56 cm
ARTHUR RIMBAUD / The Spiritual Hunt When one day I left the literature of outmoded parochialism, I saw how the Poet called on the painter and handed him the burning torch of the world. Kinsmen will get a shared exhibition. Not only for the sake of the good old metaphors of colour and outlook. (O Visionary, O Vowels, mummy-guardians of the ‘Rimbaldian’ temple!). But rather for the lightning of the poetic gesture itself, which hurls the language beyond what it wishes and sometimes beyond what it is capable of. From the signifier to the referent, the Poet cuts things short. Elementary law of physics: this brutal short cut of the image brings about a perpetual acceleration of the verbal particle. ‘…moved to death by the milk of early morning and the night of the past century’. Since then, flung from the highest tower, Arthur’s bombardment devastates all that is below: the cardboard poses and anticipated thoughts of our precious half existences. We are slightly scared by the outrageous wisdom of this ‘enfant terrible’ who outshines and surpasses twenty Jewish prophets, twenty African marabouts: the world is new, as is art; only the outlook is old. The fire ball enters our throats and abruptly burns the arteries of the commonplace. But soon the image explodes into grand white lilies and blueish corollas on which the Painter, in his long canvases, may quietly float. It is up to Richard Bouwman to revisit the seasons, the châteaux and hell. Christophe de Voogd Directeur de l’Institut Français des Pays-Bas, Maison Descartes Translation: Hanny Keulers
