Fabienne Gonzales-Puyraimond prête sans doute aux choses la transmigration des âmes. Les bijoux qu’elle construit avancent dans la voie secrète des alliances inédites, instruisent les mondes parallèles et la poésie quantique.
Ce n’est pas par hasard si son épopée onirique s’est décidée en Argentine, pays qui par ses artistes exilés en France à produit autant de pataphysiciens. Sa grande gidouille à elle sera un chalumeau brésilien avec lequel il n’est pas superflu de dire qu’elle fera des étincelles. Partie à 20 ans au pays des gauchos elle en reviendra avec un catalogue d’exception, dadaïste en diable, apte à séduire tout esthète avisé, doublé d’un collectionneur.
Avec des œuvres uniques en argent massif, des bronzes amis des pierres semi précieuses, des camées intailles ou des émaux, des touches de machines à écrire portées aux oreilles, des éléments de bricolage, des morceaux de verres glanés sur la plage, des super héros, des cadrans et des rouages de montres, des photos ou des cartes postales mises sous verre, elle sait le dialogue secret entre le magnétisme des rebuts et la noblesse de la matière et par dessus tout ce que ces unions sublimées disent aux gens de goût ennemis des ostentations.
Lectrice assidue et curieuse, amatrice éclairée des formes et des styles, sa vie comme son art est un voyage sans cartes ni exercices, un roman de Lewis Carroll ou d’Horace Walpole dans lequel l’étrange, l’inattendu et l’ironie ne manquent jamais de surgir. Dans son film «L’amour l’après-midi» Éric Rohmer imagine un talisman qui porté par son héros entrave la volonté des femmes. Elle, dont les pupilles de poupées sont plus des clins-d’œil que des armes de transmission massive rêve déjà dans son authentique village intérieur de fabuleux gris-gris dont le charme secret est l’unique psychomagie.
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Jasmine Sanders
Considering that Masaru Emoto has proved that the nature of our thoughts can have an effect on the way cooked rice looks, that Jacques Benveniste has shown that water has a memory, it isn’t hard to believe that everyday objects don’t stop at just telling about an era, they retain a history of the places where they have been, and the vibrations of the people who have owned them, engraved in these objects like intimate scarifications. This is doubtlessly what justifies, aside from their rarity and physical characteristics, an undeniable preference for old things whose marks and wounds give them a higher value as compared to objects which have survived decades and centuries completely intact. It could even happen that these marks of time would unfold like pages of sheet music rippling from the valleys of a 33 rpm vinyl record, or that these traces from which the waves arise would reveal a much more mysterious language.
Fabienne Gonzales-Puyraimond undoubtedly believes that objects are capable of proving the transmigration of souls. The jewelry she makes wanders down the path of new alliances, creating parallel worlds and composing quantum poetry.
It isn’t by chance that her epic life story started in Argentina, a country that has produced so many pataphysicians thanks to its population of French artists in exile. Deep down inside her burns a Brazilian flame which naturally casts its sparks. Having gone to the land of gauchos at the age of 20, she came back with an exceptional array of talents: a dada devil able to win over any willful esthete wanting to pass themselves off as an art collector.
With her unique pieces of jewelry made of sterling silver, bronzes set with semi-precious stones, cameos and intaglios or enamels, typewriter keys turned in to earrings, elements cobbled together from who-knows-what, pieces of glass found on the beach, superheroes, dials and gears from watches, pictures or postcards framed under glass, she knows the secret dialogue between the scraps of magnetism and nobility of the material she’s working with, and above all what these subtle metaphors say to those who want to avoid ostentation at all costs.
An assiduous and curious reader, an artist with a good knowledge of design and style, her life is like a long road trip without maps or exercises, like a novel by Lewis Carroll or Horace Walpole in which everything that’s ironic, strange or unexpected will inevitably jump out, just as in her life. In his film “Love in the Afternoon”, Éric Rohmer conjures up a talisman which, carried around by the lead character, puts a leash on women’s will.
Fabienne Gonzales-Puyraimond, whose pupils of a doll are more of a wink and a nod rather than massive projectors of images, is already dreaming in her true interior village populated with fabulous talismans whose secret charm is their psychomagic powers.
—by Courtesy
