l'art consommable

As a Gen Z, L’Art Consommable emerges from growing up between the analog world and the rise of the digital era. It is, in many ways, a reflection of that in-between state.

We are constantly surrounded by digital experiences, while at the same time witnessing a growing desire to return to physical objects: vinyls, books, cameras. A need to remember that things existed before everything became instant and dematerialized.

And I believe that need is real. Important, even. However, there is another reality we cannot ignore: the world we currently live in.

Climate change, overconsumption, environmental anxiety, these are no longer abstract concepts. They shape the way we create, consume, and exist.

We cannot close our eyes and naively hope to return to a pre-digital era while simultaneously feeding mass consumption, often disguised as nostalgia or aesthetic longing.

There is something deeply paradoxical about romanticizing the past through hyper-consumption.

Buying endlessly in order to recreate authenticity. Mass-ordering objects designed to imitate nostalgia. Consuming “slower living” at the speed of algorithms.

"Sometimes, even our desire to reconnect with reality becomes aestheticized, packaged, and sold back to us."

I don’t believe sustainability should mean rejecting beauty, emotion, or materiality altogether. But I do think it asks us to become more intentional.

To consume less impulsively, to create more consciously. To value objects not only for how they look online, but for the emotions, memories, and sensations they carry in real life.

I think art evolves, and the way we express it evolves with it. The immaterial allows us to create new forms of materiality: spectacular, expanded, immediate.

To play with the limits of what is possible, what is reachable, what can circulate. This is not about dependence, but about appropriation. About using it consciously, precisely, and with some balance.

My vision of art exists within that contradiction : we live in a world where the material and the immaterial coexist, and I don’t think we should have to choose between the two.

The art that materializes through me follows the same process: first immaterial, existing only in my mind through my senses, before becoming something tangible.

"Through sight, when words collide until they become sentences that want to be read.

Through sound, when I walk through my city listening to a song that brings me back to childhood.

Through touch, when I brush against soft satin that recalls how coquette my grandmother used to be.

Through smell, when the scent of croissants and chocolatines escapes from my favorite bakery.

Through taste, when, traveling back to my grandparents’ homeland, I rediscover a traditional dish that shaped my childhood memories."

For me, art is exactly that: fully embodying a universe and making it felt, whether materially or immaterially.

But most importantly, leaving the choice to the viewer.

Through my creations, I want to offer that possibility: the ability to take ownership of this universe and reinterpret it in your own way, but also to reconnect with the world around you through it.

By choosing to print it at your local print shop, the one that has existed for fifty years, where the owner is a familiar face who tells you fascinating stories about his craft.

Then wandering through flea markets in search of the perfect frame, before slowly walking through your city for an entire morning.

Perhaps conscious consumption begins there: in reclaiming slowness. 

In choosing the gesture over immediacy. The experience over convenience.

"Because when we slow down our relationship to objects, we inevitably transform our relationship to consumption itself."

The artwork is no longer something instantly acquired, it becomes something lived with.

To print the artwork on glossy satin paper for a polished finish, or on matte paper for something more industrial. To display it as it is, or frame it.

To make no choice at all: place it inside a scrapbook, slip it into your wallet, tear pieces from it, write over it, paint on it, tape photographs onto it.

To leave your own imprint on it. But to do so consciously and respectfully.

And that is precisely why the idea of “non-choice” feels relevant to me : reducing waiting times, shipping costs, unnecessary packaging.

 But most importantly, living in our time, at the crossroads between the screen, and the art we can touch with the tips of our fingers.