Photo left: Hubert Konrad et Alain Godon, avenue Matignon
A Star Is Born
It was a shared love of night life that introduced me to Alain Godon at the beginning of the nineties. His capacity to stay sharp-eyed and keep up a coherent conversation throughout the whole night enabled us to have long discussions from the very start.
“My friends call me Alain” he parried. As soon as said, it was done and we were on Christian name terms. The familiar “tu” form fell into place from the start and a friendship was born.
From my first visit to his studio-cum-flat, I felt the same wonder as that of a child in front of a shop window at Christmas. I wanted each and every one of them. The more he brought down from the mezzanine, the more I wanted them. Like a fashion parade, throngs of people descended the spiral staircase. Each canvas bestowed with its allocation of anecdotal details. Each telling a story. This was his first period -portraiture; it was a time full of laughs as well as a time of conscious awareness.
An awareness that this medium was working: a sort of telepathy through the visual arts. Let’s call it, quite simply, a gift. But this helping hand from nature has to be maximised by exploiting other qualities, intellectual as well as practical. Since I am not required to write an epitaph here, we will leave these qualities to the imagination.
An artist matures likes a wine in an oak barrel, by sitting for hours on a stool in the corner with a paintbrush in his hands, tubes of paint in his drawer. The art of oil painting is not mastered at a first attempt. Penitence is harsh and punishment imposes a long wait before crossing over to the other side.
Whilst stopping off once to visit this “perched master” (always sitting on his stool), Alain was looking tenderly at his drawer stuffed full of multi-coloured tubes of oil paints and uttered this magical sentence, “Look Hubert, all these tubes are now my friends; I know each and every one of them. I love them.” What a resolute acknowledgement that art is in the service of the artist, rather than the artist in the service of art.
Now armed with a technical freedom, he has been able to go deeper into the core of his creative universe. Under the benevolent watchful eye of his fans, the artist has launched himself, like Spiderman, at the buildings of Paris and the beautiful country houses of the Opale coast. By using an effect of convolution, a secret that belongs to him alone, building facades begin to dance and solid blocks talk to fountains. Sometimes imitated, but never equalled, Godon just keeps on going. One by one, the cities succumb to the attacks from his palette: Paris, Amsterdam, New York and soon Miami.
His drawing is apposite and just, but is not the only reason for his success. He plays with colours producing bold ventures that prove delightful, even therapeutic, to look at. Is looking at a Godon good for your health? Is it a placebo? No, no way! This is art to heal the heart and the soul. When will we be able claim one of Godon’s works on social security?
But so much for the accolades; Alain is not only a workaholic, but also a perfectionist who demands efficiency and discipline from those around him. This driving energy he also places at the service of others; he is the originator of the first show for aspiring artists that is totally free of charge. Alain knows that life is not a long, peacefully flowing river; he is there to build bridges across the river Styx and leave Cerberus at the gateway of art’s hell. The road to heaven is open.
Long may Alain continue!
Paradise is other people.
Hubert Konrad
Co-founder Artprice, Hubert Konrad Gallery, Paris, France
