The Orchid and the Vulture

Mathieu Laca, Self-portrait, 2008

Sometimes, I could spend hours contemplating and meditating upon one of his works. What does it mean? Why did he put this figure beside this one, this object over this one? Why did he choose that color? What is he trying to tell us; is he always choosing consciously? I know very well in advance that I will never completely understand; but since I am especially stubborn, I keep on trying.

Let’s take the above, for instance: self-portrait? So true! So terribly true! I know him very well, believe me! He is not only part of this picture: he is all of it. He is the orchid: what a peculiar flower! Nobody seems to be able to decide whether it blooms or not, when it blooms, for how long. Sometimes, the flowers may stay for weeks, even months; but at the same time, it is so fragile: a simple bump and it falls down. Sometimes, it looks more like a butterfly than a flower; it looks like it will fly away if you dare moving even one finger. One minute, it looks perfectly healthy and, a minute later, it falls on the table just before your eyes, dead; even if you were perfectly still. He is also the figure: so vulnerable but so cheeky at the same time. He has nothing to hide, no sense of modesty and always ready to jump. Beware of this look: he sees everything. Can he really stand like that on a ladder? Is it ever possible? Yes, it is. He did it. He posed while I was taking photos. For at least an hour, he stayed on that ladder, climbed up, climbed down, hanged himself on the rungs, head up, head down, like some kind of stubborn cat, never saying a word, concentrating on one thing: the movements, the gestures, the beauty of his body, the mystery of his look. He is the vulture: mysteriously flying in skies nobody else can reach. And the eyes: those penetrating eyes, those X-ray guns that dig right to the bottom of your heart. He’s up the ladder where nobody can reach him; up where everybody can see him, shameless, proud and powerful. Ready to escape through the highest rose window followed by his faithful and, at the same time, frightening bird. Powerful; vulnerable; strong; tender; aggressive; all that at the same time, in the same mind, in the same body, all that making a wonderful artist, sometimes an incomprehensible human being.

He is part of this painting like he is in every picture he creates. Take most of his works. Always violence and tenderness fighting. Love and war. Holiness and evil.

But, everywhere, strength. Omnipresent strength.

Why is the strength of love so terrifying sometimes?

Comeau