A man a little fatty, not very young, the angular look, has finally found behind what he wanted before. If her hair had fled, a proud ponytail pushed him back. And Appendix wood, so firm and unshakable, Mr. harpooned the basin by a leather belt, stiff and arched out of his seat. The gluteal prosthesis, an illusion of good carpentry, hollow in its projection, the entire thickness of his stupidity. Having a big thing, for some rest and even for the most part the preserve of major arms. That's it. Males usually held to their mat.
Pascal Bauer, with its collection of egos, puts things in their place. Here he spills virility too sharp or he teases, tongue-in-cheek those who do not want to look foolish in their place, it makes using equipment incongruous, a kind of resistance waste of intelligence. If dentures make up for shortfalls by definition, a failure, a failure, they enhance the defects, push the proselytizing of idiocy and dramatize the everyday grotesqueries and antics of all the "I".
"Me, I'm a rebel." A post-haired teen chats wearing plaid slippers, black panties and a t-shirt of Che , revolutionary figure if any, becomeillustration of an overwhelming international soliciting walking. The boy raises domesticated, looking rather pleased, slight curve, the narcissistic side of his machine: a vacuum of 50 years covered by a wolf fur and a mounted gun. Victory seems heroic to see the rebellious ways of dust but the prey was easy: a few crumbs and ashes of a revolt that was not his.
"But I did it". A man is on his knees, a white mask, red interior, stretches his face like a tube, a probe, a muzzle. He speaks with his hands, a salesman in little gestures. His eyes look but see nothing. He's down in the veil of his masquerade and his suit and tie.
Pascal Bauer creates high-end items, perfect craftsmanship, elegant design, to demonstrate through the absurd, the absurdity of certain behaviors, gestures or contortions to which men are tempted to succumb. With much humor as anger, much of that intranquilité of derision, the artist tells through these strange accessories and photos that accompany the world by his little foibles and great violence. If the bottom, some of its instruments discuss metaphysics, their form and scenario, prove to be substrates of a company ulcerated, whose cynicism is the only way.
A woman carries in her arms a zeppelin pink. Appendix A, the same as comic books, links to his mouth and the ball along the sentence is engraved on it: finally a human being! This is not outside the condom, it is certain, the odds of not to live and especially not to become.
A further object of ego, a missile ends with a prehistoric club as an allegory of a historical timeline of battlefields. If the war has invented its weapons, it is the man who invented war. " To believe in progress, it does not believe that progress has already occurred. Otherwise it would not be a belief "said Franz Kafka.
Finally, on a tombstone of white marble, extended by a boom of voices calling, lies an aphorism-shaped award and conclusion: " we are more intelligent then we are there. "The laughter is triggered is still here, that of the mind.
Julie Esteve, March 2012