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Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël
Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël
Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël
Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël
Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël
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Untitled " Métamorphe(s) Painting

Arghaël -

France

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 51.2 W x 70.9 H x 1.2 D in

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About The Artwork

Charcoal, black and raw. Instant bond, burning drive. Magma and molting flesh. I want to draw with my eyes wide shut, and draw you in. Let go, levitate, right here, right now. My mind goes blank. Charcoal fragments of life pouring through my fingers. Tender loving bones. I feel like a drawing in-progress, looking for meaning in someone else ‘s meandering flesh. Charcoal breathes through my fingers, summons black willows and subversive, sensorial fantasies. I feel the naked heart and the raw nerve coming to sharp life, offering vanishing lines to our subconscious. In the charcoal night, we are these men and women summoned in a rage. These limbs, these breasts, these hands. Free-floating skins. And mine are these feet, huge, deformed and powerfully planted in my brains. I must get to the matrix, immerse myself in the graphic purity of black & white rebirth. Arghaël

Details & Dimensions

Painting:Oil on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:51.2 W x 70.9 H x 1.2 D in

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Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.

« Concentrating the essential of his artworks on a drawing practice and the nude motif, Arghaël renews a long history of bodily representation from prehistory with the Venus of Willendorf, to the ideal of ancient perfection with the statuary Praxitèle, to the cult of flesh, exposed raw by Egon Schiele or Lucien Freud. Plunging his drawn figures into a mysterious indeterminacy of animal or human postures, the artist invites us to enter the vortex between beast and man, capturing their overflowing life forces in the hollows of their dancing flesh. Drawing women, men and trans alike, Arghaël plays with our representations of sexual organs, either voluntarily eluded or exposed, questioning the notion of identity as he revisits the classic figure of the hermaphrodite through the prism of gender studies. From this point of view, Arghaël’s artistic protocol borders on a kind of purity, a true nexus of gesture. As if the artist’s charcoal and pastel strokes on raw linen canvas were exploring and echoing the invisible forces under our own skin. » Philippe Godin, art critic ( Under My Skin, Paris - April 2023 )

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