Philippe Croq is a French painter born in September 1961 in Douarnenez, France.
He currently lives and works in the south-east of France. Before devoting himself to painting, Philippe Croq worked in the aerospace sector. In 1991, a serious illness forced him to leave his job and marked the beginning of his artistic career. This event was a decisive turning point in his life, leading him to express his emotions and pain through painting. His work is often described as a means of channelling his personal experiences and deep feelings. Philippe Croq has exhibited his work in various galleries and art events. In 2013, he received the Joël Dabin Prize, recognising his talent and contribution to the world of contemporary art.
Although self-taught, Croq draws on a rich and diverse culture, ranging from Caravaggio to Joy Division, from Manet to Coppola, and also taking inspiration from Francis Bacon, Joel-Peter Witkin, and Cy Twombly. His style is halfway between figuration and abstraction, integrating numbers and words to guide or mislead the imagination. The influences visible in his works include lines that transform into childhood memories, snatches of songs, objects and words that appear recurrently. His poetic work is often described as dreamlike, integrating animal, human and plant figures that are sometimes sketched and imperfect, thus leaving free rein to personal interpretation. Philippe Croq uses media such as ink and acrylic on paper mounted on canvas, which contributes to the delicacy of his black line contrasting with the intimate vibrations of his colours.
<Philippe Croq draws us in with his pictorial offerings. Is there a search for meaning in the composition of these bursts? Everything seems to be in place but nothing is formulated. A self appears where the double disappears. Shadows, traces and reflections often emerge in a confusion of contradictory interests. Then, thus invited, the visual sensation of fragments of lived truths strikes us. But make no mistake, his canvases are highly constructed in their deconstruction. Sometimes a vertical tends towards a balance just to whisper a colour. He knows how to set a horizontal, on the edge of trembling, of the dividing line between a word, a sound, a vibration, a smell, a shiver, a shattered hatred. By small signs, snippets, lines and shades, he articulates his universe. As a result, we find ourselves dreaming again and again, reconnecting with our nocturnal dream from the beginning, suddenly brought up to date. Such an approach requires a form of listening that walks a fragile, even taut, tightrope on the verge of breaking. Are we somewhere in what he is showing us? His moving attempts to avoid meaning, to weave cobwebs, blurred grids and traced edges propel him jubilantly into a possible resurrection. His apparitions of sketched, ghostly bodies and strange faces seem to glide without any weight other than their despair. Yet in this apparent void, fleeting colours, interrupted melodies and discordant chords converse (in spite of him?). We know deep down that it happened to us too. With this in mind, the artist invites us to cross the threshold of a lost world together… to strip it bare once again before hypothetical reconstructions.>
