Jean-Christophe Béchet

Jura, série "Clocks and Clouds"

2021

Tirage 50x70cm, dont 5cm de marge blanche (photo 40*60cm). Série limitée à 5 exemplaires dans ce format, avec gaufrage à sec et certificat d'authenticité. Certains lieux laissés à l...

Photographie 30x40cm de la dernière série de Jean-Christophe Béchet, Habana Song, tirée par l'auteur lui-même par impression pigmentaire, avec de superbes nuances de noir, dans un to...

"Certains lieux laissés à l’abandon suscitent parfois un certain intérêt dans notre imaginaire. Notamment pour ce qu’ils peuvent charrier de mystères. Ils nous intriguent, excitent notre curiosité. Comme s’ils avaient encore quelque chose à nous dire d’eux. À nous dire de nous. Chargés d’un passé aujourd’hui devenu leur présent, de singulières atmosphères règnent en de tels endroits et nous enjoignent parfois à y pénétrer avec prudence, s’offrant ainsi à quelque visiteur opportun." Basile Ducournau Tirage numérique sur papier Etching Hahnemühle 350g, format 40x60cm, édition sur /10. Possibilité de venir récupérer le tirage directement à la galerie. Le prix...

The Alps chain chisels the horizon while a marvelous sea of ​​clouds, crossed by the lights of the city, comes alive above the Pays de Gex (from the Jura Mountains, Ain, France). Dec...

Photography on paper

Renato D'Agostin No. 12 (Paris 2006) from Metropolis, 2006 Silver gelatin photograph, selenium-toned 16 x 20 inches (40.6 x 50.8 cm) Edition 1/10

Ian Gittler’s Motor Art series-photographs of century-old engine parts, gears, sparkplugs, and brand tags-offers respite from the digital fetishism, overexposure and one-hundred-forty-character bursts of communication that seem to define our era. Gittler is no luddite, he loves his iPhone. But these images, often obscuring the objects beyond identification, take unsentimental pleasure in elements of weight, ground, volume and permanence that are more closely associated with a bygone heyday of industrialization. These photographs are about a tangible physical experience, about moving parts. Gittler’s expert printing-his ability to see the potential in a frame and employ the techniques necessary to articulate that vision on paper-brings the work to life. There’s wit in the brand iconography and a documentary component, but Gittler resists prescribing interpretations, saying subtext isn’t the point. His use of extremely shallow depth of field, intense contrast and exploded grain is muscular and poetic. But subtext is relevant. Although Robin Rice first approached Ian Gittler about his vector-based art on photo paper, the gallerist challenged him to create a series of photographs with that kind of machismo. As a native New Yorker who was marched through the halls of MOMA as a toddler, Gittler’s inspiration-his idea of macho-has less to do with cowboys and racecar drivers than with Franz Kline brushstrokes and modernist design. For Gittler, macho means the maximum amount of black ink that can lie across a sheet of photo paper. That kind of force. He narrowed his field of view for this series-often to a centimeter or two-in order to achieve a purely visual, visceral response. Gittler titled the work Motor Art in tribute to the 1934 Museum of Modern Art exhibit, Machine Art. Upon its sixtieth anniversary, Phillip Johnson wrote of the show (and of his own essay for its original opening), “The thrust was clear: anti-handicraft, industrial methods alone satisfied our age; Platonic dreams of perfection were the ideal.” Ian Gittler photographs, draws, writes, and makes music. He has created album covers for Willie Nelson, Roy Hargrove...

Ian Gittler’s Motor Art series-photographs of century-old engine parts, gears, sparkplugs, and brand tags-offers respite from the digital fetishism, overexposure and one-hundred-forty-character bursts of communication that seem to define our era. Gittler is no luddite, he loves his iPhone. But these images, often obscuring the objects beyond identification, take unsentimental pleasure in elements of weight, ground, volume and permanence that are more closely associated with a bygone heyday of industrialization. These photographs are about a tangible physical experience, about moving parts. Gittler’s expert printing-his ability to see the potential in a frame and employ the techniques necessary to articulate that vision on paper-brings the work to life. There’s wit in the brand iconography and a documentary component, but Gittler resists prescribing interpretations, saying subtext isn’t the point. His use of extremely shallow depth of field, intense contrast and exploded grain is muscular and poetic. But subtext is relevant. Although Robin Rice first approached Ian Gittler about his vector-based art on photo paper, the gallerist challenged him to create a series of photographs with that kind of machismo. As a native New Yorker who was marched through the halls of MOMA as a toddler, Gittler’s inspiration-his idea of macho-has less to do with cowboys and racecar drivers than with Franz Kline brushstrokes and modernist design. For Gittler, macho means the maximum amount of black ink that can lie across a sheet of photo paper. That kind of force. He narrowed his field of view for this series-often to a centimeter or two-in order to achieve a purely visual, visceral response. Gittler titled the work Motor Art in tribute to the 1934 Museum of Modern Art exhibit, Machine Art. Upon its sixtieth anniversary, Phillip Johnson wrote of the show (and of his own essay for its original opening), “The thrust was clear: anti-handicraft, industrial methods alone satisfied our age; Platonic dreams of perfection were the ideal.” Ian Gittler photographs, draws, writes, and makes music. He has created album covers for Willie Nelson, Roy Hargrove...