Interview with Barbara Penhouet

In your biography, you mention the idea of a “laboratory of gestures”. How did this idea of a laboratory first come to you, and how do gestures play a part inside your paintings?

I change the context or blur the boundaries to create a haze and a shift in perceptions. It is within this dynamic that I find a particular resonance with the work of Pina Bausch, who revolutionized dance by founding "Tanztheater" (dance theater). By merging dance, theater, raw emotions, and spectacular stage design, Bausch opened a field of exploration regarding human nature and emotional communication.
Her method, based on questions posed to the dancers, addresses profound themes such as human psychology, memory, and lived experiences. This approach inspires me to view my paintings as a kind of "living tableau," where each gesture and movement becomes a sincere expression of the inner self.
By choosing situations that seem frozen in time, I aim to capture the essence of these fragile and intimate moments, reflecting both the common and the individual. Thus, the gesture in my works is not merely a visual representation, but becomes a vector of emotions, a way to engage in dialogue with the viewer. Consequently, my laboratory of gestures transforms into a space of experimentation where each brushstroke evokes a dance, reflecting the complexity and depth of human experience.

How did you first discover your technique of diluted oil paint with back-and-forward motions?

I enjoy working with transparency and playing with balance. Over time, through experimentation with oil paint, I developed this technique. I also appreciate allowing the base layer of color to show through and adding touches that evoke reflections in water, creating an analogy with memory.

You’ve mentioned a few different painters. Are there other forms of art that inspire you? Such as music, film, and photography?

In a lyrical staging set to the music of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons," Artavazd Pelechian's film highlights pivotal moments in the daily lives of shepherds in Armenia, framed within the cycle of the seasons. Elements such as haymaking and transhumance emerge as leitmotifs in this cinematic poem, illustrating the beauty of simple, repetitive gestures.
On the other hand, Alejandro Jodorowsky's cinema, through the notion of psychomagic and rituals, explores mechanisms of personal liberation. His works often focus on symbolic gestures that allow characters to transcend their suffering and reconnect with their essence.
In this way, painting becomes for me a liberating process, akin to these rituals. I aspire to create moments that exist outside of time, conducive to catharsis. Each brushstroke, each color applied to the canvas contributes to the construction of a space where one can break free from daily constraints and access authentic emotions. This process reflects a quest for emancipation, both personal and collective, where art, much like Jodorowsky's cinema, enables exploration and healing.

Your work embraces the concepts of empty spaces and appreciating the things we leave behind and the footprints we make through life. What draws you to these moments?

I am particularly interested in the idea that two elements in encounter are unified by the empty space between them. Their connection lies in this void, which becomes a sort of third entity. Observing the dance of things is to perceive the emergence of this third dimension, which is the void.
I also appreciate the notion of the trace of time and the idea that everyday objects, like Tsukumogami—containers, tools, and instruments that have existed for a century—can acquire a form of spirit or soul. This establishes a connection with metempsychosis, which considers the possibility that everything, including objects, could possess essence or consciousness.
In this sense, objects can be viewed as bodies, allowing us to consider the entirety of existence—humans, animals, nature, and objects—on the same hierarchical level. This approach invites us to rethink our relationship with the world and recognize the intrinsic value of each element, whether animated or inanimate.

Is there something you do in your everyday life that helps you feel more connected to the inner light you look for? Maybe a habit of yours before starting a new painting?

I find that spending time in a place and capturing its light is essential for me. I particularly appreciate artist residencies in this regard. I need rituals and to create a daily work routine. I cherish the simplicity of moments and try to anchor myself in the present to be fully engaged when I reflect. This can resemble a form of trance, a state where one disconnects from external distractions.

Your work emerges from the landscapes and daily life of Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur. How has this region shaped your emotional and artistic views?

The South is a region of adoption for me. It questions the thresholds and limits. This region has led me to reflect on the concept of the hermit crab and the notion of home. We carry our gestures from one place to another. We can inhabit places, animate them, and be animated in return. I also appreciate the idea of the passage between dream and reality, between the dazzling sunlight and the moment we reconnect with our surroundings. The colors that enter the retina, the blue of the sky that remains truthful.