François Marcadon, invited by Museum of Contemporary Art in Taipei, presents three wall paintings specially designed for the subway of Taipei, using his self-portrait as a main theme.

The painting created in the MOCA studio alludes to the book Gulliver’s Travels written in 1721 by Jonathan Swift. The gigantic scale of the figure contrasts with the people evolving in the subway and the cropping of the subject gives the illusion of different space and temporality. Thus the spectator is invited to question the nature of the portrayed figure: does his position evoke a swimmer? A giant trying to escape from a cramped space? Is he good-natured or malevolent? The scale and the cropping end by changing the status of the self-portrait. The shoulders, arms, hands and fingers of the artist become networks of abstract forms that suggest a new configuration of the subway map rather than a portrayal of the human body.

On the other two walls of the Zhongshan station appear replicated images of the face of F. Marcadon, which seem to roll frenetically across the length of walls to echo the speed of the subway users. In spite of the strange condition of these faces devoid of body, they wear fixed, mischievous smiles or frowns that seem to confront the viewer. These mask-like images seem suggest the freedom of ideas developing without restraint.

The animated film Look and feel your best (2014), created in partnership with graphic designer Émilie Lemarteleur (born in 1979 in France, lives and works in Paris and Montreal) refers to the domains of sport and body representations, and to the images of the body conveyed by the mass media and advertising. At first, the requirement implied by the title seems to be quite appropriate for a subway station, in the midst of other advertisements. But this is ultimately deceptive: the film turns out to be a simple study in black and white, made of empty letters composing the words of the title.

François Marcadon’s artistic world is the world of a trickster. Each of his apparently elegant, intentionally mannered works associates sweetness with bitterness, and reveals under its cloying surface a disturbing phantasmagorical undercurrent. These fantastical images (which seem to be in turn dreams, nightmares or allegories) deploy the personal mythology of the artist, offering up a vision both dreamy and cruel, much like his own omnipresent laughing face, about which we will never know if it is a sign of rejoicing or sarcasm.
- Florian Gaité, 2013

*image (left)
courtesy of the artist