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Myths and Symbols of horse

This never ordinary man is, within his génération,extraordinary for his knowledge and his rejection of that pictorial extravagance, which is hallmark of new epoch, born Under the sign of sterility and besmirched at birth by impotence.

With a quiet arrogance he confronts the latter-day masters as well as the best of today, directing his no compromise attitude towards a far better response to the needs of tomorrow , yet never casting dust in the eyes, dispensing a love potion from a kaléidoscope of nature’s wonders with which to probe deeply into the pastoral ambushes that lie within the dream of men .

A manipulator of illusions, he crystallies them with a touch of magic : a freeze frame illuminating visions whose vivacity paradoxically immobilise intense perfection .

He paints with the sublime touch of an angel’s wing.

If an illustrator of dreams exists, it must be GILBERT MICHAUD.

It is enough to open the book of his Works. All that he invokes is familiar.Adeja vu expérience ? No, it is the quintessence of that which we should have seen.
He succeeds in entwining burgeoning riots of blooms into bouquets, through which we sense that, contrary to everlasting flowers they will never wither and that impalpable breath of life, exhaled by the délicate subtlety of his art, makes them truly « eternal »

Life is not only made up of flowers. In the Wake of the « big-bang » man dreamed of riding lightening bolts, and by the grâce of Jupiter, Pegasus took flight to bear Bellerophon, and with A thena’s blessing, to quill the Chimaera.

In the quest for safety, the God Odin created for himself an eight footed steed called « Sleipnir » , which means « Slippery » .He at least remained upright : on the polar ice, on the waters of the océans, on the earth, in the air or in the underworld !

GILBERT MICHAUD is inspired by all this mythology. His symbolism is tangled but nevertheless clear, illuminated by a
knowledge, that in is way resurects legends, or perhaps the
opposite ?

Invader, GILBERT MICHAUD is above all insidious… His passage of
each frontier is clandestine, without passport or papers, with only
his canvases for identification ;and it is these which quietly take
up occupation. Akin to the Trojan horse, to allow but one to enter
is to be conquered by its magic .

The eye of painter portrays the ultimate ode, in a spectacular
decor , rare and symbolic, as Homeric as it is Wagnerian.

If had to listen to a tale beauty.I would choose that which was told
through the brush of GILBERT MICHAUD

 

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