Artist Profile: Aline Chapurlat
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Aline Chapurlat is facing her worst nightmare.
Standing
in her stripped-down studio, once again just an ordinary garage, the
French painter, a slender 47-year-old with an Audrey Hepburn-esque
chignon and startling blue eyes, surveys the place where she has
experienced the most productive years of her artistic life. It has been
a bonanza four years, seeing the creation of 50 of her large-scale,
dramatic images. Intense and evocative, her paintings are known for
their sensual, sculptural quality and—thanks to her recent output—her
work is part of numerous corporate and private collections throughout
the U.S. and France. Now, her
brushes, paints and canvases have all been packed or sold, and she has
nothing to do but wait until it’s time to go. And she hates it. In a
few weeks, she will leave Atlanta, where she has lived and worked since
1998, and return to her native France. The move is necessitated by her
husband’s job, which first brought the pair to the U.S. four years ago. “I cannot paint anymore because
the paintings take a long time to dry,” she says, “And I do not like at
all doing nothing. It is the hardest thing.” For Chapurlat, time off is
torture. I recently visited an
exhibit of her work, then on display at the Saltworks Gallery, a
renovated warehouse space in an industrial part of Atlanta. After
driving through rows of stark gray buildings and gravel lots,
Chapurlat’s glowing forms appeared like beacons as I crossed the
gallery threshold. The luminous pieces seemed to float in the air, like
so many weightless jewels. Stopping at a scalloped diamond shape, I
examined its surface. I assumed it to be flat, then reassessed. It
seemed textured, like some sort of rich purple velvet. I felt a sense
of visual confusion, but in a pleasant way, much like trying to
determine a flavor that I can’t quite place–and savoring every mouthful
in the process. Chapurlat would
have been pleased. Piquing the senses, teasing them into questioning
the nature of objects perceived is, after all, if not the entire point
of Chapurlat’s work, then a large part of it. “When your senses are
disturbed, when you see something and it is different than what you
thought it was, that is very interesting to me. What is real in one
place and time is not in another. You always have to ask yourself: Is
that reality?” It is an
intellectual approach, steeped in the philosophy of the French
phenomenologists. Yet it relies equally on the less cerebral—namely,
computer software. Chapurlat’s move to Atlanta in 1998 not only freed
up her time to paint (sans a work visa, she could devote herself to
painting full-time), it allowed her to focus on other aspects of her
craft as well—sales, marketing and new technologies that radically
changed her creative process. “I
learned the computer for the first time, and I can now design my shapes
on it,” she says. “Digital technology has allowed me to experiment, to
design precise geometric shapes and manipulate an infinity of colors.”
Once satisfied with a shape, she delivers it on diskette to a company
that cuts the form out of wood for her. After gluing the cleats and
canvas on, she paints the piece with multiple layers of transparent
glazes. “The more glazes I use the more the light will refract and give
the illusion that it comes from the inside.” The cleats suspend the
pieces, so that they appear to hover in the air. “I want the paintings
to float off the wall—to be as immaterial as possible.” Materiality
is saved for promotion, something Chapurlat also learned during her
years in Atlanta. “In France, we have quite a romantic idea about
art—you have to be pure and have no involvement in money.” She has
decided not to “think that way. You can promote yourself—it is not a
shame to do that.” Her
developing business savvy has helped build a reputation and clientele
that promises to continue to expand, particularly with the help of her
computer-assisted process, which enables her to e-mail
designs-in-progress to clients for input. Saltworks director Brian
Holcombe notes, “I see Aline’s work as an example of an increasing
trend in contemporary art to embrace today’s technology as another
medium for expressing creative thought.” www.alinechapurlat.com Copyright © Laurel-Ann Dooley
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Aline Chapurlat is facing her worst nightmare.
Standing
in her stripped-down studio, once again just an ordinary garage, the
French painter, a slender 47-year-old with an Audrey Hepburn-esque
chignon and startling blue eyes, surveys the place where she has
experienced the most productive years of her artistic life. It has been
a bonanza four years, seeing the creation of 50 of her large-scale,
dramatic images. Intense and evocative, her paintings are known for
their sensual, sculptural quality and—thanks to her recent output—her
work is part of numerous corporate and private collections throughout
the U.S. and France.
in her stripped-down studio, once again just an ordinary garage, the
French painter, a slender 47-year-old with an Audrey Hepburn-esque
chignon and startling blue eyes, surveys the place where she has
experienced the most productive years of her artistic life. It has been
a bonanza four years, seeing the creation of 50 of her large-scale,
dramatic images. Intense and evocative, her paintings are known for
their sensual, sculptural quality and—thanks to her recent output—her
work is part of numerous corporate and private collections throughout
the U.S. and France.
Now, her
brushes, paints and canvases have all been packed or sold, and she has
nothing to do but wait until it’s time to go. And she hates it. In a
few weeks, she will leave Atlanta, where she has lived and worked since
1998, and return to her native France. The move is necessitated by her
husband’s job, which first brought the pair to the U.S. four years ago.
brushes, paints and canvases have all been packed or sold, and she has
nothing to do but wait until it’s time to go. And she hates it. In a
few weeks, she will leave Atlanta, where she has lived and worked since
1998, and return to her native France. The move is necessitated by her
husband’s job, which first brought the pair to the U.S. four years ago.
“I cannot paint anymore because
the paintings take a long time to dry,” she says, “And I do not like at
all doing nothing. It is the hardest thing.” For Chapurlat, time off is
torture.
the paintings take a long time to dry,” she says, “And I do not like at
all doing nothing. It is the hardest thing.” For Chapurlat, time off is
torture.
I recently visited an
exhibit of her work, then on display at the Saltworks Gallery, a
renovated warehouse space in an industrial part of Atlanta. After
driving through rows of stark gray buildings and gravel lots,
Chapurlat’s glowing forms appeared like beacons as I crossed the
gallery threshold. The luminous pieces seemed to float in the air, like
so many weightless jewels. Stopping at a scalloped diamond shape, I
examined its surface. I assumed it to be flat, then reassessed. It
seemed textured, like some sort of rich purple velvet. I felt a sense
of visual confusion, but in a pleasant way, much like trying to
determine a flavor that I can’t quite place–and savoring every mouthful
in the process.
exhibit of her work, then on display at the Saltworks Gallery, a
renovated warehouse space in an industrial part of Atlanta. After
driving through rows of stark gray buildings and gravel lots,
Chapurlat’s glowing forms appeared like beacons as I crossed the
gallery threshold. The luminous pieces seemed to float in the air, like
so many weightless jewels. Stopping at a scalloped diamond shape, I
examined its surface. I assumed it to be flat, then reassessed. It
seemed textured, like some sort of rich purple velvet. I felt a sense
of visual confusion, but in a pleasant way, much like trying to
determine a flavor that I can’t quite place–and savoring every mouthful
in the process.
Chapurlat would
have been pleased. Piquing the senses, teasing them into questioning
the nature of objects perceived is, after all, if not the entire point
of Chapurlat’s work, then a large part of it. “When your senses are
disturbed, when you see something and it is different than what you
thought it was, that is very interesting to me. What is real in one
place and time is not in another. You always have to ask yourself: Is
that reality?”
have been pleased. Piquing the senses, teasing them into questioning
the nature of objects perceived is, after all, if not the entire point
of Chapurlat’s work, then a large part of it. “When your senses are
disturbed, when you see something and it is different than what you
thought it was, that is very interesting to me. What is real in one
place and time is not in another. You always have to ask yourself: Is
that reality?”
It is an
intellectual approach, steeped in the philosophy of the French
phenomenologists. Yet it relies equally on the less cerebral—namely,
computer software. Chapurlat’s move to Atlanta in 1998 not only freed
up her time to paint (sans a work visa, she could devote herself to
painting full-time), it allowed her to focus on other aspects of her
craft as well—sales, marketing and new technologies that radically
changed her creative process.
intellectual approach, steeped in the philosophy of the French
phenomenologists. Yet it relies equally on the less cerebral—namely,
computer software. Chapurlat’s move to Atlanta in 1998 not only freed
up her time to paint (sans a work visa, she could devote herself to
painting full-time), it allowed her to focus on other aspects of her
craft as well—sales, marketing and new technologies that radically
changed her creative process.
“I
learned the computer for the first time, and I can now design my shapes
on it,” she says. “Digital technology has allowed me to experiment, to
design precise geometric shapes and manipulate an infinity of colors.”
Once satisfied with a shape, she delivers it on diskette to a company
that cuts the form out of wood for her. After gluing the cleats and
canvas on, she paints the piece with multiple layers of transparent
glazes. “The more glazes I use the more the light will refract and give
the illusion that it comes from the inside.” The cleats suspend the
pieces, so that they appear to hover in the air. “I want the paintings
to float off the wall—to be as immaterial as possible.”
learned the computer for the first time, and I can now design my shapes
on it,” she says. “Digital technology has allowed me to experiment, to
design precise geometric shapes and manipulate an infinity of colors.”
Once satisfied with a shape, she delivers it on diskette to a company
that cuts the form out of wood for her. After gluing the cleats and
canvas on, she paints the piece with multiple layers of transparent
glazes. “The more glazes I use the more the light will refract and give
the illusion that it comes from the inside.” The cleats suspend the
pieces, so that they appear to hover in the air. “I want the paintings
to float off the wall—to be as immaterial as possible.”
Materiality
is saved for promotion, something Chapurlat also learned during her
years in Atlanta. “In France, we have quite a romantic idea about
art—you have to be pure and have no involvement in money.” She has
decided not to “think that way. You can promote yourself—it is not a
shame to do that.”
is saved for promotion, something Chapurlat also learned during her
years in Atlanta. “In France, we have quite a romantic idea about
art—you have to be pure and have no involvement in money.” She has
decided not to “think that way. You can promote yourself—it is not a
shame to do that.”
Her
developing business savvy has helped build a reputation and clientele
that promises to continue to expand, particularly with the help of her
computer-assisted process, which enables her to e-mail
designs-in-progress to clients for input. Saltworks director Brian
Holcombe notes, “I see Aline’s work as an example of an increasing
trend in contemporary art to embrace today’s technology as another
medium for expressing creative thought.”
developing business savvy has helped build a reputation and clientele
that promises to continue to expand, particularly with the help of her
computer-assisted process, which enables her to e-mail
designs-in-progress to clients for input. Saltworks director Brian
Holcombe notes, “I see Aline’s work as an example of an increasing
trend in contemporary art to embrace today’s technology as another
medium for expressing creative thought.”
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