Belongs to the name of "Painter Draftsman". In no way can be assimilated to a plastic surgeon.
Assuming that an art that says nothing is an art that is useless. Atypical in painted production as in reflection on art, the agreed rhetoric and consensual myths and legends so abundant on the subject, always taking timeless painting as a reference, not much in tune with part of so-called modern production.
Favoring substance and form, emotion, the sensitive over the intellect. The human remains the pivot, the central axis of all production. Characters more or less deformed, frozen or in turmoil, exaggeration of features without being caricature. Beings that we meet every day, whose physique, attitude, gestures, appearance can arouse questions and empathy. Characters of silence or resignation in isolation, in the shadows, stifled. More or less precarious state, worry still present, no future, just passing through.
Powerless individuals, whose downfall is always near. For many of them the dice are loaded. Destiny, bad luck. Who knows…
Entrance to the Bordeaux School of Fine Arts
Bordeaux School of Fine Arts - First prize for drawing after the antique
Obtaining the C.A.F.A.S - Certificate of aptitude for higher artistic training. National Diploma
Joined the School of Applied Arts in Paris after competition
Obtaining the DNBA Painting - Theoretical portion
Received first nationally at the DNBA painting - Practical side
Received first nationally at the DNBA publicity. - With congratulations from the jury
Presents the DNBA Engraving
Drawing teacher - 1966 to 2004
Classically inspired, Serpaggi evokes with a certain restraint, tinged with modesty, the memory of the great masters of art history - the drawings of Rembrandt but also the painful palette of a Rouault or Soutine.
If Lovecraft leans over your shoulder to read the book you have in your hands; If Edgar Pô tickles the soles of your feet and if: as I suppose, in front of the mirror you whisper "I am a man, slip and enter these few edifying scenes of the Serpaggian universe. Finally, yes, making a clean sweep of your principle and prejudices, you feel like hanging them on the walls; Avoid this little sin, other eyes could wear them out.
Still classic is the half anguished, half amused look that this wise philosopher has on the turpitudes of existence. He uncompromisingly depicts an exuberant world in perpetual gestation where grotesque figures tremble, swell, pirouette to crash further, dripping drop by drop like a viscous substance.
The drawings also testify to the patient, obstinate pursuit of an expression that would finally succeed in the synthesis of the obvious and what leaks, the tangible and the ephemeral: it swarms, it crawls, it grows, it spreads out. , it swells, it wobbles, it dances and it sneers, it never gives in, it always transforms, it never ceases to seize and abandon us, it can break at any time but it starts all over again: The life in the superb confusion of births and cataclysms, whose artist, skillful ferryman, tames the chaos on the threshold of vertigo
The color, both bloody and bruised, almost visceral, accentuates the emotional intensity of the drawings in astonishing paintings whose cut-out formats invade the space, amplifying beyond the conventional framework its roars of despair.