013 - jean jullien

When in a new city, where the skaters hang and museums, this is where I look to be. After a few weeks of traveling in landlocked Europe, I need to add sources of moving water to my list: rivers, canals, lakes, ponds. Even the smallest trickle will do. I like to be near water.

I was in rainy Brussels and it had been a minute since I’d been near water, so I looked at the map for the tiniest snake or turtle of blue. I found a canal, zoomed in, and saw a museum alongside it. I clicked and up popped: A museum for the general public…Stemming essentially from subcultures such as street art, skateboarding and graphic art.

With my travel partner down for the count because of the dreary weather, I headed out, towards moving water and a museum. Of course I forgot my umbrella. Oh well, I was craving water. I arrived at MIMA and was met by a solo exhibition. Another first for me.

I introduce to you: Jean Jullien

His exhibition was spread across three compact floors of a wonderfully remodeled warehouse. A bunch of people were stuffed up in the first room reading a timeline on the wall. I didn’t see any paintings and felt confused. I went back to the lengthy introduction blurb that I initially and purposely avoided – those things aren’t typically written in words I understand – and called internally for focus. I needed to read.

I learned Jean Jullien is a French artist using multiple mediums and he was born in 1983. “1983?!” I thought. A solo show by a living artist not much older than me. I didn’t feel envious or behind in my own endeavors. I learned early on in my pursuit of making a living that these feelings are completely useless and unhelpful. Everyone wants something they don’t have. It can be best to want nothing, then you have it all.

Anyway, I went back to the first room, saw the people had moved on, and started to read. Between canvases, Jullien used cursive, journal-like entries and comic-like sketches to detail his human existence and artistic production. I was impressed and curious how long it all took to complete. I continued on and to my pleasant surprise, water, nature, and surfing were the stars of the show and everything was presented in English.

I enjoyed his paintings. They weren’t difficult to understand. The many colors popped and they were comforting and beautiful. His repetitive use of seemingly simple brushstrokes made me want to try my hand at painting a beach vista or backyard landscape. But it was his honest writing that moved me the most. I thought about his words after the show when walking home in the rain and continue to think about them now, several days later.

Jean said painting allows him to document moments that mattered and to immortalize them. “I find [painting] akin to the way we all take hundreds of photographs on our phones compulsively. Mine just take longer to make. Which means I can stay in these moments longer. Not in a nostalgic way, but on the contrary, in a very active way…” I felt this sentiment in his painting of a child sharing a snack with their grandparent in the garden. In a painting, the shared time is elevated and the grandparent brought to life, here and beyond.

Then, Jean shares his thoughts on human in water with board: “I’ve found surfing to be a very interesting case study in [the relationship between us and the elements]. Surfers are a dot, a punctuation in the ocean, but a very determined one. There, nature oscillates between the role of foe and friend. It’s either the pain or the pleasure given. It often seems like a battle or a rodeo, where one tries to tame the untamable. But actually, it seems like (as in most things), harmony works best and the best surfing occurs when the rider manages a certain synchronicity with the wave.” I can relate. I go into the ocean to surrender my power and feel small. I’m still working on finding my synchronicity with the waves.

And finally, he paints a funny picture in describing how humans interact with nature, specifically when we beach. He says we explore it for fun or leisure, but we have to somehow dominate it or control it in order to enjoy it. “We plant tents and umbrellas like they are conquerors’ flags, we wear hats and cover the ground with towels. We go in the water with goggles, wetsuits and floating devices. We want a tamed and ‘suitable’ version of nature.” We’ve seen it all at the beach, especially during these summer months. When I beach, I try to bring with me as little as possible. But one night, this practice gifted me a wet, empty-handed walk back to my car after my longboard had been stolen when I was rinsing off at the shower. I’ll tell that story another day.

I like art because it makes me think. The thinking keeps me occupied as I travel landlocked places without a phone connection, but sometimes thinking about art is too much and it gets me down for the count. My brain hurts and I can’t think (or talk) anymore. This doesn’t go over well with my travel partner. She reminds me all the talking we do is not in her first language. I’m grateful she worked hard to learn English and Jean Jullien exhibited in my only language when I found him in a cool museum next to a canal in Brussels. His creations are a wonderful reminder of the interconnectivity of art and life, the importance of taking the time to read, and ways to stay in the moment longer, not in a nostalgic way, but an active way. — Phillip Dillon