Le tas d'esprits

Some complained that Francis Picabia had, “Made too many jokes with his painting.” They would have probably continued to complain if history had not succeeded in forgetting, if not completely, not quite. Jacques Halbert’s first painted cherry is perhaps just such a joke. This latter artist hardly waited to be reproached by such reactionary minds, (the Paris seventies found it hard to tolerate a giant’s laughter), he took off, as they say, for the USA, making a sprightly landing and a sure step forward, continued his way without the slightest regard for so many established ideas. Adventures that begin with painting are heady with attitude. During his years of learning, Jacques Halbert turned himself into a Master Chef, without knowing of the art of performance. He produced an unrestrained mixture from followers of Support-Surface, Ben, the BMPT group and Fluxus; the cherry was to become his “Manifesto of good taste,” which he never abandoned. A solitary figure among other now central figures of today’s art, our man escaped from the claws of fame that may carry you away, against your will, in digestive wanders after the diet. For Halbert, dieting is forbidden, self-indulgence wins over, and this is a comestible area, the party is on, dare one say, and rages. Let’s swear in harmony with our times. With titles we believe harmless, “Souple rosé,” “Souple bleue,” delectation is never far away. As a kick in the teeth for guardians of a ruined temple, it is an audacious gesture. Jacques Halbert doesn’t justify anything. However, the tongue in check reference is honed sharp; the theoretical apparatus and its weakness. You smile, and even laugh unchecked! The only certainty, “PLEASURE,” written on canvas, with fruits sinuously lettering the promise. Brushwork as a line of cocaine, to not abstain. A billboard. “Cherry-Cherry,” or a little sweet and sour in your pop. The double attachment to popular imagery and museum painters, to whom homage is impertinently made, constitutes his singularity. Better, enjoy a Turner in the morning and make a performance in the afternoon, maybe it is about that, to not grow old among the old farts.