Po\u00e8me en prose de Guillevic<\/p>\n
Prose poem by Guillevic<\/em><\/p>\n Livre d\u2019artiste, \u00e9dition originale enlumin\u00e9e. Justification :<\/strong><\/p>\n Edition originale, compos\u00e9e en Bodoni corps 21, achev\u00e9e d\u2019imprimer le 21 Octobre 1996 par G\u00e9rard Lejeau \u00e0 Paris, justifi\u00e9e : 17 exemplaires in quarto raison \u00e0 la Fran\u00e7aise, dont 5 t\u00eates sur Auvergne avec 8 mines de plomb r\u00e9hauss\u00e9es au lavis de Robert Cl\u00e9vier : I \u00e0 V : 12 ex. sur Velin avec 3 mines de plomb r\u00e9hauss\u00e9es au lavis : 6 \u00e0 17, tous sign\u00e9s par l\u2019auteur et l\u2019artiste. 5 hors commerce : A \u00e0 E. A vendre \/ For sale<\/em> :<\/strong><\/p>\n Prix unitaire TTC \/ unit price<\/em><\/p>\n T\u00eates : 400 \u20ac Pr\u00e9sentation :<\/strong><\/p>\n Le projet d\u2019une \u0153uvre commune voit le jour d\u00e8s la premi\u00e8re rencontre du peintre et du po\u00e8te fin 1995. Ce sera \u00ab Dits de la jeune fille et de l\u2019homme \u00bb, po\u00e8me en prose in\u00e9dit.<\/p>\n Pour parler des peintres, Guillevic dit tout d\u2019abord qu\u2019il a \u00ab l\u2019oeil visuel, si l\u2019expression n\u2019est pas absurde, comme on dit une m\u00e9moire visuelle. (.) Les peintres comptent pour moi. Je n\u2019ai pas eu un peintre de pr\u00e9dilection, mais dans ce domaine comme dans d\u2019autres, j\u2019ai \u00e9cart\u00e9 l\u2019emphase et la grandiloquence. Rembrandt me touche. J\u2019ai eu longtemps dans ma chambre la reproduction d\u2019une Vierge du Gr\u00e9co. (.) Si j\u2019ai eu un ma\u00eetre en peinture, c\u2019est peut-\u00eatre C\u00e9zanne. Il a contribu\u00e9 \u00e0 me former dans la mesure o\u00f9 il m\u2019a aid\u00e9 \u00e0 me cerner, \u00e0 me centrer \u00bb. (in \u00ab Choses parl\u00e9es \u00bb, Champ Vallon \u00e9d.) Presentation :<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n The project of a common work is born from the first meeting of the painter and the poet in late 1995. It will be \u00ab\u00a0Dits de la jeune fille et de l’homme\u00a0\u00bb, an unpublished prose poem.<\/em><\/p>\n To speak about the painters, Guillevic says first of all that he has \u00ab\u00a0the visual eye, if the expression is not absurd, as one says a visual memory. (.) Painters count for me. I did not have a painter of predilection, but in this field as in others, I rejected the emphase and the grandiloquence. Rembrandt touches me. For a long time I had in my room a reproduction of a Madonna by Greco. (.) If I had a master in painting, it is perhaps C\u00e9zanne. He contributed to form me insofar as he helped me to define myself, to center myself\u00a0\u00bb. (in \u00a0\u00bb Choses parl\u00e9es \u00ab\u00a0, Champ Vallon \u00e9d.)<\/em> Extrait :<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00ab Je crois que c\u2019est dans une chambre haute et glac\u00e9e, d\u2019o\u00f9 l\u2019on voit une plaine un peu \u00e9treinte par le ciel et les collines, une plaine o\u00f9, le soir, verser les \u00e9c\u0153urements du jour. Excerpt :<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n \u00ab\u00a0I think it is in a high and icy room, from which one sees a plain a little embraced by the sky and the hills, a plain where, in the evening, pour the sicknesses of the day.<\/em> Notes du peintre<\/strong> (- Carnets de travail) :<\/p>\n D\u00e9cembre 1995. Rendez-vous Chez Guillevic. Il parle comme il \u00e9crit, pour se jouer de la maladie qui le contraint \u00e0 contr\u00f4ler sa respiration, et m\u2019inviter \u00e0 son jeu. Le dictionnaire, la ma\u00eetrise du souffle. J\u2019\u00e9coute. Ses textes ont laiss\u00e9 aux peintres la plus mince chance d\u2019exister. Mon int\u00e9r\u00eat pour le d\u00e9fi grandit, ce qui ne lui \u00e9chappe pas ; il sait l\u2019\u00e9cho que sa voix trouve et vient recueillir chez ses auditeurs. P\u00eacheur \u00e0 la mouche plus que fauve.<\/p>\n Il s\u2019attarde sur quelques \u2013 uns de mes dessins, sans rejeter les autres. Ces indications suffisent. Puis nous restons face \u00e0 face. F\u00e9vrier 1996. Aucun d\u00e9sir de graver \u00e0 l\u2019aquatinte, ni au burin, technique qui disqualifie les incertitudes. Je lui propose d\u2019en rester aux mines de plomb originales o\u00f9 tous les plans se m\u00ealent fermement, et de limiter l\u2019\u00e9dition en cons\u00e9quence ; il accepte. Nous parlons un instant de la Bretagne, qu\u2019il dit \u00ab conna\u00eetre peu \u00bb ; du Breton, langue maternelle et interdite ; de sa d\u00e9cision, d\u00e8s 7 ou 8 ans, de renverser l\u2019ordre des choses, de \u00ab rar\u00e9fier le fran\u00e7ais \u00bb. Que cherchions-nous ? D\u00e9boucher les oreilles, ouvrir le regard. (.) Notes of the painter (- Notebooks of work):<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n December 1995. Appointment at Guillevic’s.<\/em> He speaks as he writes, to play with the illness that forces him to control his breathing, and to invite me to his game. The dictionary, breath control.<\/em> I listen. His texts have left the painters the slimmest of chances to exist. My interest in the challenge grows, which does not escape him; he knows the echo that his voice finds and comes to collect in his listeners. He is more of a fly fisherman than a wildcat.<\/em><\/p>\n He lingers on some of my drawings, without rejecting the others. These indications are enough. Then we remain face to face.<\/em> February 1996. No desire to engrave with aquatint, nor with burin, a technique that disqualifies the uncertainties. I suggest to him to stay with the original lead pencil where all the planes are firmly mixed, and to limit the edition accordingly; he accepts.<\/em> We talk for a moment about Brittany, which he says he \u00ab\u00a0doesn’t know much about\u00a0\u00bb; about Breton, his mother tongue and forbidden language; about his decision, at the age of 7 or 8, to reverse the order of things, to \u00ab\u00a0make French scarce\u00a0\u00bb.<\/em> What were we looking for? To unblock the ears, to open the eyes (.)<\/em> Po\u00e8me en prose de Guillevic<\/p>\n Prose poem by Guillevic<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":3980,"template":"","meta":{"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"neve_meta_sidebar":"","neve_meta_container":"full-width","neve_meta_enable_content_width":"off","neve_meta_content_width":100,"neve_meta_title_alignment":"","neve_meta_author_avatar":"","neve_post_elements_order":"","neve_meta_disable_header":"","neve_meta_disable_footer":"","neve_meta_disable_title":""},"product_brand":[],"product_cat":[884,394],"product_tag":[],"class_list":["post-3901","product","type-product","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","product_cat-books","product_cat-livres","first","instock","taxable","shipping-taxable","purchasable","product-type-variable"],"yoast_head":"\n
\n8 mines de plomb originales rehauss\u00e9es. L\u2019Atelier Contemporain \u00e9d, Paris, 1996.<\/p>\n
\nEmboitage Duval cartonn\u00e9 ; eaux-fortes estamp\u00e9es par l\u2019atelier Leblanc rue saint Jacques, Paris 05. Etat des livres : neuf<\/p>\n
\nArches : 320\u20ac<\/p>\n
\nDe fait, Guillevic n\u2019a jamais cess\u00e9 d\u2019oeuvrer avec des peintres : PICASSO, mais celui-ci interrompt son travail avant terme ; DUBUFFET pour \u00ab El\u00e9gies \u00bb et \u00ab Les Murs \u00bb, PIGNON, pour la couverture de \u00ab L\u2019Homme qui se ferme \u00bb, Fernand LEGER pour \u00ab Coordonn\u00e9es \u00bb, MANESSIER pour \u00ab Cymbalum \u00bb, UBAC .
\nEn 1995, c\u2019est dans une sorte d\u2019urgence et de calme d\u00e9termin\u00e9 qu\u2019il engage une conversation avec Robert Cl\u00e9vier ; ils \u00e9voquent leur Bretagne \u2013 couleurs, sons, matit\u00e9s, stridences, tout l\u2019ignor\u00e9 qui demeure, et l\u2019attente. Dans une lettre du printemps 1996 adress\u00e9e \u00e0 l\u2019artiste, Guillevic dit sa \u00ab confiance \u00bb dans la suite du travail et son \u00ab impatience \u00bb de voir le travail aboutir : \u00ab A tout ce qui m\u2019entoure \/ je donne mon silence. Et le temps \/ est suspendu \u00bb.<\/p>\n
\nIn fact, Guillevic never stopped working with painters : PICASSO, but this one interrupted his work before the end ; DUBUFFET for \u00a0\u00bb El\u00e9gies \u00a0\u00bb and \u00a0\u00bb Les Murs \u00ab\u00a0, PIGNON, for the cover of \u00a0\u00bb L’Homme qui se ferme \u00ab\u00a0, Fernand LEGER for \u00a0\u00bb Coordonn\u00e9es \u00ab\u00a0, MANESSIER for \u00a0\u00bb Cymbalum \u00ab\u00a0, UBAC.<\/em>
\nIn 1995, it is in a kind of urgency and determined calm that he engages in a conversation with Robert Cl\u00e9vier; they evoke their Brittany – colors, sounds, matities, stridencies, all the ignored which remains, and the waiting. In a letter of spring 1996 addressed to the artist, Guillevic says his \u00ab\u00a0confidence\u00a0\u00bb in the continuation of the work and his \u00ab\u00a0impatience\u00a0\u00bb to see the work succeed: \u00ab\u00a0To all that surrounds me \/ I give my silence. And time \/ is suspended\u00a0\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nEt on ne sait jamais si elle les re\u00e7oit, la plaine, ou ce qu\u2019elle en fait. Mais elle est l\u00e0 et c\u2019est d\u00e9j\u00e0 beaucoup quand , le soir, l\u2019\u00e9c\u0153urement\u00a0remonte.
\nUne plaine et l\u2019on sait qu\u2019on la retrouvera, le soir, qu\u2019on lui dira tout. et l\u2019espoir est l\u00e0, quand m\u00eame, d\u2019\u00eatre justifi\u00e9.
\n(\u2026) Et alors, certainement qu\u2019il p\u00e8sera tr\u00e8s lourd dans les comptes, et c\u2019est lui qui approuvera de la t\u00eate quand il s\u2019agira pour chacun de soulever sa couche de terre, lui qui d\u00e9cidera quand sera venu pour chacun le temps du repos. Il sait, et moi, je voulais m\u2019approcher davantage de lui, je voulais entrer dans la chambre, oser prendre la main de la jeune fille \u2013 mais tout se passe maintenant ailleurs \u00bb.<\/p>\n
\nAnd one never knows if it receives them, the plain, or what it does with them. But it is there and it is already a lot when, in the evening, the disgust goes up.<\/em>
\nA plain and one knows that one will find it again, in the evening, that one will tell it everything. and the hope is there, nevertheless, to be justified.<\/em>
\n(…) And then, certainly, he will weigh very heavily in the accounts, and it is he who will approve with his head when it will be a question for each one to raise his layer of earth, he who will decide when will have come for each one the time of rest. He knows, and I wanted to get closer to him, I wanted to enter the room, to dare to take the girl’s hand – but everything is happening elsewhere now.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nIl se tait, pr\u00e9pare ses forces. C\u2019est un corps, une poitrine de paysan, un ch\u00eane de talus, t\u00eates compact\u00e9es, encastr\u00e9es successivement les unes dans les autres apr\u00e8s chaque tron\u00e7onnage. Les bosses \u00e9voquent les plaques d\u2019\u00e9corce que ces arbres produisent pour couvrir leurs plaies, peaux lisses de renaissances s\u00e9par\u00e9es par des fissures. Tronc, membres enfantins. Phrases : les sons tout \u00e0 coup se pr\u00e9cipitent les uns contre les autres, forment une mati\u00e8re l\u00e9g\u00e8re hach\u00e9e qui se condense en fractions de mots du dictionnaire.<\/p>\n
\nIl se l\u00e8ve, cherche quelques livres r\u00e9alis\u00e9s par des peintres, se ravise et se rassoit, ouvre le tiroir de son bureau, en sort une liasse de manuscrits class\u00e9s avec soin dans des chemises. D\u00e9ranger, reclasser, il en dit un.<\/p>\n
\nAvec \u00ab Dits de la jeune fille et de l\u2019homme \u00bb, il s\u2019agit de marche, des pas l\u2019un apr\u00e8s l\u2019autre ; je songe \u00e0 Giacometti, qui terminait toutes ses phrases par une sorte de \u00ab non ! \u00bb, ou \u00ab non. \u00bb, mani\u00e8re d\u2019indiquer le mouvement en avant. Je lui dit mon intention de travailler des chairs \u2013 le dessin \u2013 discontinues, sans \u00ab fond \u00bb, constituant \u00e0 elles seules tout le champ. Pas de figures, pas de socles ; des concentr\u00e9s de pr\u00e9sence et d\u2019absence de mati\u00e8re qui tiennent par une pure \u00e9nergie de gravit\u00e9 \u2013 le vide parfois, la mati\u00e8re la plus pesante, la plus structur\u00e9e.<\/p>\n
\nC\u2019est par la libert\u00e9 \u00e0 laquelle il me convie comme on offre un verre, que cet homme me trouble ; est-ce le m\u00eame homme qui disait en 1975 de la Hongrie et de la Yougoslavie qu\u2019il s\u2019agissait \u00ab d\u2019exemples d\u2019un socialisme tr\u00e8s viable. \u00bb ? Le bureau, son fauteuil, la pi\u00e8ce o\u00f9 il me re\u00e7oit, les objets, les couleurs juxtapos\u00e9es, tout est si commun et na\u00eff, que je me surprends \u00e0 chercher des indices qui r\u00e9v\u00e8leraient une mise en sc\u00e8ne.<\/p>\n
\nQuelque chose de mon pass\u00e9 sourd dans sa voix quand il lit ses po\u00e8mes. Je lui confie qu\u2019\u00e0 chaque fois que mon grand-p\u00e8re, pour conclure une r\u00e9union de famille, psalmodiait des chants bretons, j\u2019ai entendu battre un paysage int\u00e9rieur, des g\u00e9n\u00e9rations une clart\u00e9 ; mais qu\u2019une sorte d\u2019affliction m\u2019\u00e9treignait aussit\u00f4t, qui ne m\u2019abandonnait qu\u2019apr\u00e8s avoir \u00e9tendu sur le jardin et abandonn\u00e9 aux eaux cuivr\u00e9es du Ste\u00efr une tristesse sans objet. Le coeur de ces chants \u00e9tait gros, et ma carcasse, du linge pour les caresses. Cette langue que je ne comprenais pas avait peut-\u00eatre le charme de ce qui se retire ; contenus aux limites des ch\u00e2teaux int\u00e9rieurs des adultes, d\u2019un \u00e9ternel pr\u00e9sent qu\u2019ils d\u00e9poseraient sans doute \u00e0 leurs pieds le jour de leur disparition mais qui n\u2019entrerait pas dans nos chairs, ses murmures et ses demi-mots, d\u00e9mis par ext\u00e9nuation, informes comme les reliefs des peintures de Tanguy, d\u00e9signaient a contrario le fran\u00e7ais comme la langue de l\u2019avenir, l\u2019\u00e9nergie mais aussi \u00ab l\u2019\u00e9coeurement \u00bb.
\nEnfances. Il \u00e9voque son d\u00e9part soudain du Morbihan, sa d\u00e9couverte des grammaires allemandes, puis m\u2019interroge sur mes premiers dessins. Je me souviens \u00e0 haute voix de ce moment o\u00f9 sans effort, imm\u00e9diatement, le crayon faisait \u00ab appara\u00eetre \u00bb quelque chose ; orgueil et na\u00efvet\u00e9, je soufflais sur cette braise ; des cendres, mes seuls moments d\u2019existence r\u00e9elle.
\nEntre deux cambriolages, j\u2019observais la machine \u00e0 vivre, le travail de la viande. Mon d\u00e9sir fixait le gris des cieux des eaux, des toits, des rivi\u00e8res envas\u00e9es, esp\u00e9rant une ex\u00e9cution color\u00e9e. Du d\u00e9sir \u00e0 l\u2019effroi \u2013 la propension des couleurs \u00e0 gouverner mes \u00e9motions me p\u00e9trifiait \u2013 je me suis r\u00e9solu, vers 7 ans, \u00e0 ma\u00eetriser cette tyrannie et vu cette entreprise comme ma vie elle-m\u00eame.<\/p>\n
\nPar courrier, il me dit son \u00ab impatience \u00bb et son \u00ab d\u00e9sir d\u2019aboutir \u00bb, d\u2019aller vite.<\/p>\n
\nHe keeps silent, prepares his forces. It is a body, a farmer’s chest, an oak of slope, compacted heads, successively embedded the ones in the others after each cutting. The bumps evoke the sheets of bark that these trees produce to cover their wounds, smooth skins of rebirths separated by cracks. Trunk, childish members. Sentences: the sounds suddenly rush against each other, form a light chopped matter which condenses into fractions of words of the dictionary.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nHe gets up, looks for some books made by painters, changes his mind and sits down again, opens the drawer of his desk, takes out a bundle of manuscripts carefully classified in folders. To disturb, to reclassify, he says one.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nWith \u00ab\u00a0Dits de la jeune fille et de l’homme\u00a0\u00bb, it is a question of walking, of steps one after the other; I think of Giacometti, who ended all his sentences with a sort of \u00ab\u00a0no!\u00a0\u00bb, or \u00ab\u00a0no.\u00a0\u00bb, a way of indicating the forward movement. I told him my intention to work with discontinuous flesh – the drawing – without \u00ab\u00a0background\u00a0\u00bb, constituting the whole field by itself. No figures, no bases; concentrates of presence and absence of matter which hold by a pure energy of gravity – the vacuum sometimes, the heaviest matter, the most structured.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nIt is by the freedom to which he invites me as one offers a drink, that this man troubles me; is this the same man who said in 1975 of Hungary and Yugoslavia that they were \u00ab\u00a0examples of a very viable socialism\u00a0\u00bb? The office, his chair, the room where he receives me, the objects, the juxtaposed colors, everything is so common and naive, that I find myself looking for clues that would reveal a staging.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nSomething of my past can be heard in his voice when he reads his poems. I confide to him that each time my grandfather, to conclude a family meeting, chanted Breton songs, I heard an interior landscape beat, generations of clarity; but that a kind of affliction embraced me at once, which abandoned me only after having spread on the garden and abandoned to the coppery waters of the Ste\u00efr a sadness without object. The heart of these songs was big, and my carcass, cloth for the caresses. This language that I did not understand had perhaps the charm of what withdraws; contained at the limits of the interior castles of the adults, of an eternal present which they would undoubtedly deposit at their feet the day of their disappearance but which would not enter our flesh, its murmurs and its half-words, dismantled by extenuation, shapeless like the reliefs of Tanguy’s paintings, indicated a contrario the French like the language of the future, the energy but also \u00ab\u00a0the disgust\u00a0\u00bb.<\/em>
\nChildhoods. He evokes his sudden departure from Morbihan, his discovery of German grammars, then asks me about my first drawings. I remember aloud this moment when without effort, immediately, the pencil made \u00ab\u00a0appear\u00a0\u00bb something; pride and naivety, I blew on this ember; ashes, my only moments of real existence.<\/em>
\nBetween two burglaries, I observed the machine of life, the work of the meat. My desire was staring at the grey of the skies of the waters, the roofs, the silted-up rivers, hoping for a colored execution. From desire to dread – the propensity of colors to govern my emotions petrified me – I resolved, at about 7 years old, to master this tyranny and saw this enterprise as my life itself.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nBy mail, he tells me his \u00ab\u00a0impatience\u00a0\u00bb and his \u00ab\u00a0desire to succeed\u00a0\u00bb, to go quickly.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"