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Interview Vanessa Bamberger April 2023

Michael Charles

The artist-entrepreneur

 

By all accounts, including his own, Michael Charles is a man in a hurry. But when he works in his Normandy studio, nothing matters more than the present moment. Conceived as a journey through time, his first exhibition, Icône(s), plays with techniques and eras by questioning the question of temporality in art. Meeting with, as he says himself, an "artarian", for whom all creation is a form of art.

 

You have an atypical career as an artist. For thirty years, you worked in finance...

 

Luckily, it was art that drove me to finance. I was eighteen years old when I had the idea of taking pictures at the finish of marathons. This did not yet exist in France. But nobody believed in me, considering my young age. I finally got an appointment with the organizer of a race in the North of France who turned out to be... blind. I thought, "This is my chance!” The man entrusted me with his marathon and I continued the experience until I got to photograph the 20 km of Paris. I bought expired film, cheaper, and asked art school students to take the pictures. Later, I looked for sponsors. A finance friend of mine suggested I meet his boss. He agreed to participate on the condition that I complete an internship in his company. That's how I started in finance, and discovered that it was, contrary to popular belief, a fabulous playground for a creative person: you can invent a world there. After several years spent in big banks, I created my own company. This did not prevent me from remaining very close to the artistic world, to continue to create and to collect.

 

At what age did you start creating your own works and collecting those of others?

 

I have always been surrounded by art. My parents were collectors. There were a lot of artists in the house. I have been drawing and making things since I was a little girl. At the age of thirteen, in 1985, in order to get my mother to stop smoking, I created my first conceptual work: the No Smoking logo made of painted cigarette butts. That same year, I used my first savings to buy a small Marilyn lithograph by Warhol. With my first bonus, I bought a work by Armanet and in the process created a "virtual doorman", a video of a New York doorman reading his diary, which I posted in the entrance of my house.

 

You are part of a filiation. Your father was an artist. 

 

I took as my artist's name Michael Charles, my first two names, as a tribute to my father, Alain Salomon, who had done the same. He was a full-time painter and sculptor since he was fifty years old. When he died, I felt the need to take over. I started producing more and more and opened an Instagram account to show my work. One day, an art critic visited me and then posted a story with my Sol LeWitt tribute piece. A German museum contacted me to buy it. That was five years ago. Three years later, I stopped my other activities in order to devote myself fully to my work as an artist. I am surrounded by creative people like my wife, an interior designer and furniture designer (Sandra Benhamou), and my children who often accompany me in my creative reflections in the studio.

 

What are your inspirations?

 

I am very inspired by conceptual art. Duchamp and the surrealists, the Ready-made, arte povera, American minimalism. Artists like Jenny Holzer, Barbara Kruger, Maurizio Catalan and Jeff Koons. I am more interested in the concept than the technique. It's actually quite easy to acquire a technique. I like works that are both monumental and minimalist, with material. And I appreciate the association of a work of art with a work of writing like On Kawara or Sophie Calle. But I remain very open to all forms of art. I need to feed my eye constantly.

 

What kind of collector are you?

 

In the beginning I was very attracted to photography, but today I am more attracted to painting and sculpture. I own a lot of work from the 1980s, especially American, such as drawings by Raymond Pettibon, Jim Shaw, photographs by Cindy Sherman, Nan Goldin and Louise Lawler. At the time, they were accessible. I love discovering new artists. I don't feel influenced by the art market. I spend a lot of time on Instagram, which has allowed artists to be discovered, like Genieve Figgis, who was spotted by Richard Prince. Instagram is the biggest gallery in the world.

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You lived in New York for eleven years, in the 90s and 2000s

 

At that time, New York was an extremely exciting city. I had a lot of artist friends and spent all my free time with them, in studios, galleries and museums. I saw the young artist scene in Brooklyn emerge. Today, I live between Paris and Normandy.  As an art city, Paris has dusted itself off. The French contemporary scene has exploded. I could not live in a place where art is not omnipresent. I feed off it for a living. I am an "artarian".

 

You have a particular relationship with time.

 

I am impatient, hyperactive. I always have the impression that time is too short. But when I am in my studio in Normandy, time is suspended, I have no more urgency, no more calendar, no more telephone. In any other field, I execute my ideas quickly. In my work as an artist, I take the time to mature them.

 

What is your creative process?

 

It is close to my way of collecting. My taste is so broad that I couldn't possibly buy all the artists I like, and that's why I appropriate other people's works and divert them in my own way, mostly with humor. I started reproducing photographs in paintings fifteen years ago, after the sale of "Veronica's revenge" from the Lambert collection. I couldn't buy the Cindy Sherman photo I wanted. So I reproduced it in paint and called it "Michael's revenge"! All artists are influenced by those who came before them. I push this process to the maximum. I assume it, I accentuate it. Instead of "it looks like", I prefer "it is", "in the manner of". Recently, I diverted the work of an Israeli artist, Haim Steinbach, by reproducing one of his works in miniature. What is important to me is the idea rather than the realization. I use outside help for wood assembly or hyper-realistic painting. One day I would like to work in a large studio with assistants, like the masters of old.

 

Your first exhibition goes even further in this work of appropriation...

 

For Icone(s), I reproduced iconic photographs in paint, most of them contemporary. To each painting I associate a quote or a letter, typewritten on old American hotel letterhead. It is a fictitious missive addressed to a personality from painting or photography, an imaginary dialogue. I try to establish a game of correspondences between photography and painting, between Louise Lawler and Daguerre, between Leonardo da Vinci and Cindy Sherman. It is a kind of time travel that I propose, with the loss of notion of time. I have this old fantasy of being able to be teleported. I would have liked to discover periods of art history as others discover countries.

 

In one of your works, you quote Susan Sontag: "The painter constructs, the photographer reveals".

 

What is interesting in photography is the reproduction or not of reality. The historian René Rémond said that history began with the history of photography. Transposing an art photograph into a painting makes one wonder about the sensitivity that emanates from it and which is timeless. It is this artistic look that I tried to capture, beyond the times and the medium. The important thing is the strength of the image, the construction, the emotion. The photos I have reproduced all have this particular look, born at the same time of a moment and a movement.

 

For your exhibition, you chose to reproduce the Chicago Stock Exchange photographed by Andreas Gursky. 

 

It was the first place I worked. Gursky's original photograph is a very large format, which was rare at the time. The movement he managed to capture is, in my opinion, close to that of a historical painting, a war scene by Delacroix. I enamelled the painting with small differences by reproducing it for my own amusement, but they are not very visible and in the end do not change anything. I try to put the work of the photographer in another context, by questioning it in another way. The idea is to take the photograph out of the temporal space, so that we ask ourselves: is it old or recent?

 

And on that last question, Michael Charles disappears. The moment has passed. The art remains. 

 

Vanessa Bamberger

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