Pascal Colrat, a French artist, weaves raw emotion and bold critique into provocative posters and soulful paintings. In this intimate interview, he unveils a world where art sparks connection, challenges the gaze, and pulses with freedom. Come, let’s dive into the conversation.
1. Could you introduce yourself not as an artist, but as a human being, who is Pascal Colrat beyond the public figure?
I don’t distinguish between the artist and the human being that I am. I believe the only stance I impose on myself is to be honest and sincere in what I produce. Whether I take a photo, design a poster, or paint, I try to be as aligned with my era as possible, to truly feel it, to humbly understand it, and take it into account in my work as sincerely as I can. I think the common thread — from my posters to my current paintings — is primarily the pursuit of emotion in the viewer. That emotion becomes a means of communication between us. It’s a bridge enabling a dialogue between the observer and the artwork. This emotion can manifest through a provocative street poster, a darker black-and-white photo, or a more silent painting.
2. Your early posters are highly conceptual and theatrical. What drives you to turn social or political thoughts into visual provocation?
Visual provocation, whether through a theatre poster, a photograph, or a graphic composition, sometimes becomes a necessity. For me, it acts as both a visual and intellectual stimulant. It allows me to interact with current events and reality. It also invites the viewer to observe more acutely, with more curiosity and critical distance.
3. Many of your visual metaphors are unsettling, even provocative. Do you consider discomfort a necessary tool in your artistic vocabulary?
I don’t aim to put the viewer in a state of discomfort — the world is already uncomfortable and troubled enough as it is. Instead, I seek to stimulate their gaze, to open their critical sense, and perhaps provoke an emotion. In a world where many images are designed to lull us to sleep, I believe we must continually try to awaken and stimulate the gaze.
4. Your recent paintings seem more emotional, organic, and layered. What internal shift led you from precise conceptual posters to expressive canvases?
When I was at the Beaux-Arts in Paris, I became interested in posters as a medium and explored them to the fullest. The fact that my images were displayed in galleries and on the street — exposed to diverse and critical eyes — deeply nourished me and still does. Later, I turned to photography and integrated it into my creative work. I’ve always moved between poster design, photography, and drawing — balancing commissions with personal creations. I began painting in 2017, and unlike posters that are made quickly, painting requires much more time. I believe I need that slower pace now, in a world that’s moving ever faster. I want and need to focus on a single image or series, to dive in as deeply as possible, and painting allows me that.
5. Do you still consider your current paintings political, or do they represent something more personal, even spiritual?
Yes, I believe that some of my paintings are indeed political. There are several reasons. The current era is marked by speed — an ongoing acceleration of information and imagery — and in response, I use an ancient technique called tempera, which requires taking the time to make your own colors using egg and pigment. It demands slowness and a different relationship with time. I also think of my oil painting series ‘Animalis’ as a visual alert: the red animal and the white square interrupting the landscape serve as a kind of silence, a suspended question. In 2025, I think seeking silence and introspection is meaningful and timely. What does a landscape combined with a red animal symbol evoke? It’s a question I ask myself and pose to the viewer. I love using a visual construction principle inherited from Roman Cieslewicz, whom I consider a great master: 1+1=3. When one image meets another, it creates a third meaning. That’s what I aim for. ‘Animalis’ can be interpreted as an environmental inquiry, or as a buried memory of what constitutes nature, including human nature.
6. How do you navigate between control and chaos in your creative process, especially when working with such textured and intuitive materials?
Everything is meticulously prepared beforehand. Whether it’s a photo or a painting, I do preparatory studies. The process is very structured. With my ‘Black Flowers’ series, I’m experimenting by combining tempera with lots of water, inks, and varnishes. These materials generate almost chemical reactions, and I use their expressions and forms. I’m trying to zoom in photographically on the material, using landscape as a means to explore the biological or cellular. You could call it an organized accident or a chaotic organization.
7. You often use the human body as a medium for conveying messages. What does the body symbolize in your work, and how has this symbolism evolved?
I’ve photographed many faces and bodies — sometimes with highly experienced professional models, sometimes with people who had never posed before. The human body and face have always allowed me to explore new approaches, especially through makeup and styling.
8. How has your perception of beauty or meaning in art evolved over the years, especially within today’s ever-changing visual culture?
I’ve closely studied the works of artists like Barbara Kruger, Simon Hantaï, Gunter Rambow, Roman Cieslewicz, and Gregory Crewdson. They remain touchstones for my worldview and artistic vision. The rapid evolution of visual culture today is both fascinating and alarming — it’s a rich medium but also a troubling one.
9. In a world saturated with images, what still gives an image the power to disturb, move, or awaken?
On social media — today’s primary image source — we barely spend any time on a single image. We scroll, we skim. So, if an image holds the gaze for even four or five seconds, that’s already a success. And if the viewer gets lost in it, that’s a triumph. I believe people today tend to isolate themselves more and more. When interactions occur between people, when there’s exchange and flow, that’s a political act. Seeking to connect with others in a world dominated by individualism and isolation is itself a political gesture.
10. Is there a thought, message, or reflection you’ve carried within for years, but never had the chance to express publicly?
Bakunin wrote, “The freedom of others extends mine to infinity.” Sometimes, I feel that my work is perceived in fragments. I’ve always tried to be as free as possible and to work with the utmost sincerity, naturally navigating between various media. But in France, it’s not always easy to be recognized simultaneously as a photographer, painter, and poster artist — and to move fluidly between them.
Interview by: Behnam Raeesian
