Tristan Mottier - Nordeuil - XL






Over 35 years' experience; former gallery owner and Museum Folkwang curator.
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Description from the seller
30 editions for this work
4/30 for the one displayed.
Dimensions: 60/40 cm
Lost in a cold, deserted landscape, a solitary house stands facing the vastness. The gray light barely reveals its outlines, as if it hesitates to show it in full. It seems to stand upright by instinct, stubbornness, and weariness — like the man who might live there.
Around it, nothing.
Silence, fog, the thick air that crushes the world.
An atmosphere that does not protect: it exposes. It strips away. It shows what we usually hide.
This scene is not a landscape.
It is a materialized state of mind.
There you read voluntary isolation, inner weariness, withdrawal from noise, rejection of the system, the quest for a place where one can finally breathe — even if the air is heavy.
It is a raw, almost primitive vision of a man who has chosen to disappear a little in order to rediscover himself entirely.
The house becomes a mirror:
an fragile, tenacious shelter, built at the edge of resilience and renunciation.
A refuge for those who walk alone, for those who go on despite exhaustion, for those who know depression without ever saying the word.
The work captures the moment when one stops fleeing the world …
one steps out of it.
One becomes another.
One becomes a hermit of oneself.
30 editions for this work
4/30 for the one displayed.
Dimensions: 60/40 cm
Lost in a cold, deserted landscape, a solitary house stands facing the vastness. The gray light barely reveals its outlines, as if it hesitates to show it in full. It seems to stand upright by instinct, stubbornness, and weariness — like the man who might live there.
Around it, nothing.
Silence, fog, the thick air that crushes the world.
An atmosphere that does not protect: it exposes. It strips away. It shows what we usually hide.
This scene is not a landscape.
It is a materialized state of mind.
There you read voluntary isolation, inner weariness, withdrawal from noise, rejection of the system, the quest for a place where one can finally breathe — even if the air is heavy.
It is a raw, almost primitive vision of a man who has chosen to disappear a little in order to rediscover himself entirely.
The house becomes a mirror:
an fragile, tenacious shelter, built at the edge of resilience and renunciation.
A refuge for those who walk alone, for those who go on despite exhaustion, for those who know depression without ever saying the word.
The work captures the moment when one stops fleeing the world …
one steps out of it.
One becomes another.
One becomes a hermit of oneself.
