Sandrine Verdier

Portrait

My journey

De l’école des Beaux-arts de Toulouse à l’entreprise, et de l’entreprise à l’atelier : à 57 ans, je suis une artiste toulousaine, mère de deux grands enfants. Indissociable de ma vie de femme et de mon travail d’artistes, leur éducation a modelé mon parcours créatif et déterminé mes choix : la stabilité d’un travail salarié de directrice artistique pendant vingt ans, allié à la pratique régulière de la peinture ; puis graphiste free-lance et enseignante, lorsqu’ils ont commencé à voler de leurs propres ailes. Et enfin sculptrice, et confrontée à la nécessité de montrer mon travail. Les toiles figuratives dorment désormais dans un coin de mon atelier où je travaille la terre depuis quatre ans.

My artistic approach

In the series of artistic mutations of my work, earth is a path to bronze – two of my works are currently entrusted to a foundry, in view of an upcoming collective exhibition in Paris – but earth remains the raw material of my creative research on the female body. It is a raw material, capable of being worked in all forms to render the tensions, and the bodily energy captured in the moment. It is also a fragile material, subject to the vagaries of drying and cooking, like an extension of the fragility of bodies. Bodies sometimes broken and recomposed, or scarified by flaws left by the experiences of life. These fragments tell stories that will perhaps become, over time, more intense than the materiality of the body fragments that they cross through. In any case, this is the path that imposed itself on me and that I decided to follow.

The murmur of bodies

My sculpture fixes life in the fleetingness of movement. It is nourished by the singular history of bodies. Its raw plastic suggests movement, without locking it into a definitive attitude. It offers a path, arouses feelings, but does not impose a narrative. Freed from the canons of formal aesthetics, the tension of a muscle or the prominence of a bone, reveal the confidence of bodies in a carnal freedom springing from matter. Loving bodies, suffering bodies, or distended by motherhood, they are told in intimate fragments, like so many secret stories whispered by light and space.

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