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«In seventy years one has gathered ten thousand
souvenirs, one has a sort of attic in one’s head,. Piled-up
things which end up by suddenly re-emerging”, explains the
photographer Gilbert Garcin who seems to have decided to profit
fully from his retirement by tidying his own attic. With the face
of a tranquil father, a respectfully unadorned cranium, a discreet
tie over a striped shirt, dark grey gabardine, dark trousers and
black slippers, this former owner of a lamp factory has the air
of a perfect septuagenarian free from all care.
Debris saved from his son’s mecano set, bits of string
and small building blocks, armed with glue, scissors and his camera,
he constructs miniscule models, for which he uses artificial lighting
“to make more real”, and photographs in this way,
day after day, the different acts of his small indoor theatre.
Playing with his auto-portraits and cloning without complex his
figure of “man-of-all-the-world”, he proceeds to place
himself in the most surreal situations. Take for example Sisyphus
pushing his enormous boulder or a pitiable man behind a pendulum
“Running after time”, “The egoist” playing
leapfrog with himself, until he is lost to view, or “The
peacock” displaying tail feathers which depict his own effigy.
“We are all more or less on show, is it not?”, comments
with a malicious tone the charming gentleman who lightly manipulates
the absurd and the auto-derision, with a naïve zest, a distinct
taste for surrealism and a Hitchcock-like sense of his own presentation.
“I take notes, I accumulate, I leave it to stew a bit, then
I decide which paintings I will realise”, he comments while
simultaneously removing from his pockets stuffed with small pieces
of paper, the notes of his future compositions. He will spend
two or three days arranging the decor of each small scene. “There
should not be too big a gap between what I imagine and the definitive
image. But now that I have more experience, I make fewer mistakes”.
The bug of disassociation, often linked to the art of photography,
infected this Marseillais of origin during a period in Arles in
the 80s, while working with the photographer Pascal Dolémieux,
himself a master illusionist, who initiated him in the secret
charms of microscopic landscapes constructed with two nails, three
matches and some cubes of sugar.
Ever since, this distant cousin of Tati, this spiritual son of
Magritte, has created with humour and a touch of disquietude common
in works featuring parody, not hesitating at mocking himself,
and all of us at the same time. “’Do not turn around
in circles’, ‘Know your limits’, ‘Be master
of yourself’, profiting from maxims such as these, Gilbert
Garcin elaborates pedantically, not only a sort of fictitious
autobiography, but also a whole philosophy of the human comedy”.
Without forgetting his latest idea: to propose to other photographers
to place their own effigies in all the most inaccessible corners
of the world. A way of being everywhere at once, including in
the work of others!
Armelle Canitrot, in Pour Voir n°4, September 2000 |