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Artist |
beautifulyoo.com  |
| In
conversation in Alora |
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It
was love that brought French artist Jacques Laulheret to Spain 35
years ago, where he set up a second home in the town of Alora, a town
that last year recently expressed its own love and respect for the
man by holding the XXX111 Festival de Cante Grande de Álora
(Álora Festival of Song) in his honour, an annual festival
for which he has designed poster artwork for almost as many years
as he has lived here. “I am very moved by this tribute, that for me is a recognition,” he was quoted as saying. “Previously I felt like a person from the outside, now I feel that I am one of you.” Still trying to find my feet after living in Álora for a year, I asked Jack if it was easy to be accepted by the Spanish people. “It takes time,” he said, “one year is not nearly enough. You need to be able to speak the language, you need to spend time with them, to be with them.” When Jacques first arrived here in 1971 he was one of the very few foreigners in town. “I think it was probably easier for an outsider to be accepted then,” he said, “since the invasion of other nationalities to this country it may have become less easy, although the Spanish are very welcoming people.” I had heard Jacques’ name all over town. I had almost met him six months earlier, but my phone call, delayed through a feeling of awe and therefore hesitation, being made on the eve of his departure for one of his regular visits to France. I had seen examples of his work in the village, including a very emotive study portraying a window to literacy in the adult learning centre which specialises in teaching older people how to read and write. Then suddenly I found myself standing only a few feet away from him at the XV111Certamen de Pintura ‘Ciudad de Álora’, an annual painting competition which he had just officially opened together with the mayor José Sánchez Moreno, and the Head of Cultural Affairs Sonia Ramos Jiménez. Again I was struck by a sense of awe, almost having to force myself to step forward and speak to him. His instant smile and ready handshake were warm and natural and as he posed for a quick photograph in the teeming, highly atmospheric Casa de la Cultura, my feelings of hesitation dissolved and I smiled too, relaxed in his company, a feeling that was reinforced one afternoon about a week later in a quiet Álora bar where he had kindly agreed to be interviewed. Actually the word interview proved to be entirely inappropriate, his sparkling personality turning our meeting into a friendly, casual conversation. “You must have seen some very big changes in this town over the last 35 years,” I said. He smiled. “Yes, it’s true,” he admitted, “in some ways it has changed, in other ways it hasn’t. I still see the same motorbikes, for example,” he said, referring to the wobbly relics still out there on the roads, their maximum speed of about 10 miles an hour and the sometimes drifting consciousness of their aged riders being one of many modern motorists’ worst nightmares. “At one point a lot of brand new cars started to appear and now they have started to look old.” I sipped a beer as I listened, wanting to push my exercise book and pen away and just enjoy the chat, but I kept on scribbling notes, not wanting to lose a single scrap of the fascinating detail. “As time goes by here,” Jacques continued, “people are unfortunately losing touch with their roots, especially the youngsters, who feel that folklore is too old fashioned for them.” There had been improvements too, Jacques went on, mentioning the increase in the use of the internet and therefore access to information around the world. The town itself, at the time of this interview in the grip of major refurbishment and modernisation, would soon, he said “look very nice”. I had to ask Jacques about the town’s annual art competition, in particular how on earth the judges would be able to choose a winner, since the overall standard was so very high. Were decisions made on the basis of technique, use of colour, theme, personal preference? “A lot depends on the first glance,” he said, “the impact that a painting has on you.” And what were Jacques personal preferences when it came to art? Did he prefer abstract to real-life subjects, what was his feeling about colour, what techniques did he use? “I feel that abstract and real-life subjects are dependent on each other,” he said, “they are parallels. I paint both, I choose all kinds of subjects, although I often find myself coming back to my own roots, to folklore.” His eyes flashed and he smiled, lifting one hand almost bashfully to his mouth as he confessed: “I am like a child really, I am very simple, I am not pretentious. I have a deep respect for old things.” Inspiration, Jacques went on, comes from everything around him. “When I look at a cup of coffee in front of me,” he said, “I am inspired by the swirling movement of the liquid and by the colours. Colours are the perfumes of life,” he said. “That sounds very French,” I laughed and he laughed too. Travelling three or four times a year to his other home in France, he maintains his links with the French culture and folklore too. “I am very lucky to be able to move from one place to another,” he said. “After while in France I want to come back here and vice versa too. The trouble is,” he laughed, “when you have one foot in Spain and the other in France, your middle bits get caught in the Pyrenees!” Using acrylics or oils, and sometimes watercolours, where it is important to “control the edges and to have respect for the white of the paper”, Jacques explained that although he admires some artists’ work with alternative materials and methods, he doesn’t experiment with them much himself, probably, he said, because he just doesn’t have the time. “I love drawing too,” he said, looking at my exercise book, “I have dozens of exercise books full of sketches, in fact in some ways I enjoy drawing more than painting.” “And how do you feel about what others thinks of your work?” I asked. He shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t want to know,” he said, “whether it is good or bad, I don’t want to hear.” He paused, lit a cigarette and then continued. “I am never proud of my work,” he said, “I always feel that it could be so much better.” Again the conversation turned to the question of what actually constitutes ‘good’ art. Beauty, for example, what is that? “If a painting is well done,” he said, “even a painting of a cheerless, empty basement, it is beautiful. Beauty of course is entirely relative. In my opinion, beauty is good taste.” I had to ask him about the light in Andalucia, since every other artist I had spoken to in this part of the world never failed to mention it. “Yes, the light is very good in Andalucia,” he said, “although it is too bright in the summer. Excessive brightness kills colour. The spring and autumn are the best times, when the light is horizontal. Overall I would say that the light is more ideal in Provence.” I knew that Jacques was friends with other painters in the town, for example, pilgrim of the abstract, Kent Harrison. “Do you ever discuss art with other painters?” I asked, fully expecting the answer that I got. “No, never,” he chuckled, “it is a very private matter.” I had been privileged, then, to discuss art with Jacques Laulheret. And plans for the future? Love had brought Jacques here and, although, sadly, he had lost his partner of 32 years, it was love that would keep him here. “I’m not going to leave Alora,” he said. “I have a home here, I have friends here. I love Alora, I promote it all over the world through my paintings.” |
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Jacques
at La Casa de Cultura in Alora |
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Intentando encontrar mi lugar en Álora, a pesar de que llevo viviendo aquí un año, le pregunté a Jacques si era fácil ser aceptado por los españoles , “se tarda” dijo, “un año no es bastante tiempo, necesitas hablar su lengua, pasar tiempo con la gente, conocer sus costumbres, etc.” Jacques llegó a Álora en 1971, fue uno de los primeros extranjeros en afincarse en este pueblo. “Pienso que era más fácil ser aceptado antes que ahora, puesto que no había tanta población extranjera en Álora, a pesar de todo, los españoles son muy simpáticos” Yo había oído hablar de Jacques en muchos sitios de la localidad y tuve la ocasión de conocerlo seis meses antes de telefonearlo para entrevistarlo. Sin embargo, esta llamada la estaba retrasando quizás por temor, así que cuando vine a hacerla fue en vísperas de uno de sus viajes a Francia, había visto ejemplos de su trabajo en la Aldea, incluyendo uno muy emotivo el retrato de una ventana. De repente, en el XVIII Certamen de Pintura lo tenía muy cerca. Él, en calidad de Director, acababa de inaugurar el Concurso de Pintura junto al Alcalde D. José Sánchez Moreno y la Concejala de Cultura Dª Sonia Ramos. Tuve que abrirme paso entre la gente para dirigirme a Jacques que me recibió con una enorme sonrisa y un cálido apretón de manos, cuando le solicité que posara para realizar una fotografía que muy amablemente aceptó. Posteriormente, quedamos para realizarle esta entrevista. Al principio estaba nervioso pues no lo conocía bien, pero conforme íbamos charlando me iba relajando, su personalidad chispeante y cercana hizo que nuestra conversación fuera muy amistosa. “Debes de haber visto grandes cambios en esta ciudad durante los 35 años que llevas viviendo aquí,” dije. Él sonrió. “Sí es verdad, en algunas cosas ha cambiado en otras todavía no,” refiriéndose a las reliquias que transitaban los caminos a 10 km. la hora y donde la gente mayor solía ir en burro o a caballo eran peores que los motoristas modernos”. Yo oía mientras tomaba una cerveza y escribía sin perder detalle disfrutando de la charla. “Creo,” Jacques continuó, “que la gente ha perdido contacto con sus raíces, especialmente la gente joven que siente que el folklore es demasiado viejo para ellos. También ha habido mejoras como es el uso de internet y el acceso a la información por parte de todos.” Le solicité a Jacques que me dijera algo acerca del Concurso de Pintura, sobre cómo pueden decidir los jueces cuál va a ser la obra ganadora ya que el nivel está muy alto. “Depende mucho del primer vistazo, de cómo te impacte una pintura.” Entonces le pregunté ¿Cuáles son tus preferencias personales? ¿Prefieres el arte abstracto al tema natural, que colores prefieres, técnicas, etc.? “Creo que el arte abstracto y los temas reales o naturales van en paralelo,” dijo, “pinto ambos estilos y elijo toda clase de temas, aunque a menudo vuelvo a mis raíces, al folklore.” Sus ojos brillaron y sonrió dirigiendo su mano a la boca cuando tímidamente confesó “Yo soy como un niño, bastante simple y nada pretencioso. Tengo un profundo respeto por las viejas cosas. La inspiración me viene de todo lo que hay a mi alrededor, cuando tengo delante una taza de café, los colores me inspiran, también el movimiento de cómo se arremolina el líquido en la taza. Los colores son el perfume de la vida,” dijo. Yo le dije que “eso sonaba muy francés” reí y él también. Las tres cuatro veces al año que va a Francia hace que mantenga en armonía la cultura francesa y española. Él dice: “Soy muy afortunado por poder moverme de un lugar a otro, cuando llevo un tiempo en Francia estoy deseando volver, el problema es que cuando tienes un pie en Francia y otro en España lo del medio está en los Pirineos!” Volviendo a nuestra conversación sobre pintura le pregunté sobre el uso de los distintos materiales de pintura, acrílicos, aceites, acuarelas, etc. y donde radica la importancia de su utilización. Jacques me explicó que aunque admira el trabajo de otros artistas con materiales y métodos alternativos, él no experimenta con ellos, probablemente porque no tiene tiempo. Sin embargo, nos dijo que le gusta mucho dibujar. “Tengo docenas de libros de ejercicios llenos de bosquejos, de hecho a veces gozo más con el dibujo que con la pintura.” Le pregunté si le importaban las críticas o lo que piensan de él y de su trabajo, él sacudió la cabeza e hizo muecas. “No deseo saber, si es bueno o malo no deseo oír,” dijo mientras se encendía un cigarrillo y añadió “nunca estoy orgulloso de mi trabajo, siempre pienso que lo podría haber hecho mejor.” La conversación volvió a la cuestión de qué es lo que constituye el buen arte, la belleza por ejemplo, Jacques dijo “Si una pintura se hace bien aunque esté hecha en un sótano sombrío y vacío será hermosa. La belleza es algo relativo. En mi opinión es el buen gusto.” Le pregunté sobre la luz de Andalucía porque en una conversación con otra pintora incidía mucho sobre este tema. “Sí, la luz es muy buena en Andalucía, pero demasiado brillante en verano, el brillo excesivo mata el color, la primavera y el otoño es el tiempo perfecto para pintar porque la luz es horizontal, yo diría que es más ideal.” Yo sabía que Jacques conocía a otros pintores de Álora o que residen aquí, por ejemplo a Kent Harrison. Le pregunté si discutía con ellos sobre arte, esperando la respuesta que recibí. “No, nunca, es una cuestión muy privada.” Para mí había sido un privilegio charlar con Jacques Laulheret sobre su vida y el arte. Y ¿el futuro? El amor le había llevado a Jacques a Álora y aunque trágicamente había perdido a su compañero, ese amor lo hace permanecer aquí. “No me iré de Álora, aquí tengo mi hogar, amigos, etc. Yo quiero a Álora la promuevo en todo el mundo por medio de mis pinturas.” |
February
2007 |
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