my history

The enigma-Gauguin by Claude Olivier Dubuc

This is the story of an asymmetric encounter. A story that should never have happened. The story of a fortuitous connection of the stars, the mystic, mystery and men. But that's all that is true. The epic of a giant. A missed appointment for over a century. A 100 years old secret and some dust forgotten forever. Some have yet attempted to elucidate amounts of enigmas surrounding the master. But in fact, few have actually managed to step out of the past. Who could have predicted, who could have known that history could be rewritten? No doubt, it is a series of coincidences. First, a specific moment in space-time where synchronicity is a step, a shift. And then, it is surely a new window on understanding the complexity of Art. Yet while at first glance today, it appears without any urgent need. New facts more than obvious stir up troubling revelations and only worsen the myth of Paul Gauguin.

This Gaugin encounter, since that's what we're talking about, came suddenly in a strange way. As if it was time to come out of hiding. Like the play of shadow and light, the encounter happened as I say, not from great darkness, but rather from a soft glimmer. So let me tell you if you want ... We are at the end of 2008. Autumn blows off a cold wind predicting that worse weather will come for sure. But for now it's not very warm. So that night, a mellow atmosphere was filling the living room. A warm fire in the fireplace. A faint glow just low enough was covering the shapes, shades and colors to make it a delightful haven of peace at the end of the day. And that gentle light, as the flames were slowly dancing, was just strong enough for the shadows to filter through. Everything was peaceful and serene, only the soft crackling wood fire crepitating in the fireplace rocked the atmosphere suaveley. Then the cozy comfort was shaken, from the most unexpected, a complete surprise: the crook is in front of me. He is there and looks at me thoughtfully. With the majestic stature of great evenings. A grace only possessed by the genius. He is there with the true magnificence of a hero, whose splendid touch of his hand has inscribed forever in the infinite a new distinctive signature. The stature of the great lord Gauguin just out of the afterlife is in front of me, and I’m totally speechless. Haughty, proud and with his head that dominates all around. His brow swept by a light that suddenly bathes the extension of my eyes. He is there before me and he is simply wonderful.