Figuratio

Dear Visitor,

At the request of the artist, no official gallery text accompanies these works.
It is the artist’s wish that the work be experienced as freely and intuitively as possible.
Instead of a single authoritative voice, we present you with different encounters by different individuals.
These are personal and not a guide.
The artist encourages you to value your own experience, which is part of the work itself.
The artist and us thank you for your visit.

Having explored the human figure through the formal abstractions of his earlier works (exhibitions such as “Eveil passager,” “Romantic Imagism,” and “I told you when I came I was a stranger”), as a half-open window onto the mysteries of the human soul, Charles Laib Bitton continues his quest for the essential – for the significance of the gesture and the present moment – to dispel the illusion and the omnipresence of the virtual in our society, and to respond, through a refreshing break from the norm, to the urgency of the senses and emotions. Those evoked by bodies powerfully embodied in a physical reality that is tranquil and benevolent.

To paint what is, relentlessly and unvarnished, in all its diversity, multiplicity, obvious existence, physicality, and infinite gentleness, within the simplicity of everyday life. To breathe new life into emotion through the line and the urgency of a liberated, vivid, incisive, instinctive pictorial gesture, without compromise or regret. For the artist, it is a matter of reconnecting with the greater whole, with universality, by celebrating the coexistence of humanity, the animal and plant kingdoms, and the material world.

An object, a body, a friend, a child, a pet… They are there, displayed, posed, illuminated by the same light at the moment of creation, frozen in the intensity of the instant, and linked by the magic of warm chromatic harmonies: shades of green, red, yellow ochre, sienna, and burnt umber, undoubtedly inspired by Italian Renaissance painting and the Florentine countryside where Charles Laib Bitton has been living for four years.

What are they thinking? What do they expect of us—these strange, silent witnesses frozen in time, emerging from the painted canvas, seated on the same chair, in the same spot, connected by the brick-red ceramic floor, unchanging and silent, and yet very much alive? They stare at us intently, with the force of their directness, in this very workspace, this studio, this place of memory, like a gallery of portraits and gigantic silhouettes, presiding over a patrician mansion from another era, elements of whose imaginary architectural decor can be found in the artist’s imagined scenography.

This space for wandering is at once unique and multifaceted, replicated, open yet enclosed, universal and personal, staged to the fullest in all its dimensions—both real and dreamlike—drawing its intrigues and mysteries from Florence’s past. In these melancholic gazes—by turns disillusioned, amused, dreamy, or scrutinizing, questioning and direct—we find an inner dialogue, today and forever, a tale of presences and absences, of intimacy that is alternately hidden or revealed to us, the passersby.

– Béatrice van SCHENDEL

In Charles Laib Bitton’s paintings, nothing seems to try to dominate the scene. Children and adults sit on the same rattan chair, at the same height; animals, plants, and objects are arranged one after another on a studio stool. The floor—terracotta tiles—becomes a canvas for an almost geometric composition. All the figures appear against a light-colored wall, bathed in soft, natural light. All are rendered in a restrained palette, at times evoking the Italian Primitives, with a consistent economy of means. They are observed with equal attention, as if each presence were equivalent and demanded the same degree of patience and openness from the viewer.

This way of observing the world is reminiscent of the quiet attention Robert Walser paid to the most humble things. For the Swiss writer, walking, observing, or pausing before an ordinary detail becomes a way of inhabiting reality with intensity and humanity. Bitton’s paintings stem from a similar sensibility: they reject grandstanding and favor a relationship with the subject that requires a certain duration, a gradual adjustment of the gaze.

This apparent simplicity and closeness to the subject is, however, accompanied by a certain opacity. His figures are neither portraits in the strict sense nor archetypal representations. Rather, they appear as intermediary presences, emerging from a combination of observation, memory, and invention. Their slightly veiled gaze, as if held back behind the surface of the painting, echoes Richard Marienstras’s description of the Golem: a creature almost human in appearance, whose strangeness is betrayed only by a slight alteration. The figures painted by Bitton possess something of this ambiguity. Is it because they carry within them a certain incompleteness, the same mutilation as the Golem? Motionless and pensive, adopting the traditional postures of melancholy and rendered with touches of verdaccio, they gaze toward the viewer; familiar, yet never quite graspable.

The brushwork itself remains open, at times loose, allowing a degree of indeterminacy to persist. Rather than capturing his subjects through photography, the artist works from videos, seeking presence rather than a specific pose. His “qualityless” figures (that is, devoid of heroism) nevertheless lend a particular quality to the space they occupy. Their discreet and restrained energy places them at a certain distance that is not one of superiority but of modesty.

Bitton’s work thus goes against the grain of a visual culture saturated with fast-paced, instantly comprehensible images. Instead, it embraces a form of minimalism. In this almost monastic simplicity, the painting becomes a focal point. In some respects, it brings to mind the meditative simplicity of Fra Angelico, with whom he seems to share a similar artistic rigor.

What is at stake in these works is perhaps not so much the representation of a subject as the emergence of a presence—fragile, attentive, always somewhat elusive—that can only be approached through a patient gaze. To those who are willing to linger, these paintings gradually offer a form of silent familiarity, like an invitation to slow down and, over time, experience a different way of seeing.

– “L’attention des images”, Gatien DU BOIS

Opening Wednesday 22.04.26, 5pm > 9pm
Exhibition until Saturday 04.07

Location
Irène Laub gallery
29 rue Van Eyck
1050 Brussels (BE)

Read more about Charles Laib Bitton.