DAOUD
Born in Lebanon in 1970, David Daoud, painter and sculptor, lives and works in the Paris region.
Witness, as a child, to the Lebanese civil war, he fled to France in 1983. After studying at the École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts in Paris, he trained at the École nationale supérieure des arts decorative works from the sculptor Charles Auffret, from the workshop of Auguste Rodin's students.
Despite the omnipresence of exodus, nostalgia or absence in his works, they evoke dreams and poetry more than torment. The Franco-Lebanese painter masters the art of leaving room for mystery: the contours of the bodies are blurred, the colors mix, weaving only the framework of a story that everyone is able to tell themselves. Because his paintings speak of this quest for love, earthly or divine, that we all share, David Daoud has been able to reach a wide and cosmopolitan audience. Exhibited regularly since 2012 in Lebanon, his talent has been recognized in Belgium and France on numerous occasions. The Schwab Beaubourg gallery exhibited him for the first time in 2011. And in 2013, he was the winner of the Frédéric de Carfort Prize from the Fondation de France.
Here is what Lebanese critic Carla Yared wrote about the Réminiscences series:
Is every artistic creation an “allegory of Plato’s cave” which explains
the “conditions of men’s access to knowledge of the good”, the good and the beautiful?
The men, “turning their backs to the entrance […] see not objects but shadows
objects that are thrown against the wall. Was Plato implying that the truth is not accessible to everyone and that intermediation is needed to understand it?
Are the shadows of the objects projected against the wall of the cave or on the canvases the paintings created-recreated by the artists who alone could look the sun and death in the face?
Seeing David Daoud paint, we can't help but think that he lived, watched, stored images, emotions and sensations on the Moebius strip of his unconscious. Then, when reminiscence occurs, he searches as much in his mind as on his palette to transcribe his interior images with the greatest truth, his truth as much as ours.
This retrospective of David Daoud's work covers more than twenty years of artistic creation. The constant, the common thread remains the melancholy aroused by separation, migration and exile. This is its mystique. His characters walk. The horse and the boat are the vehicles of their incessant wandering. Nature, and trees in particular, are often at the heart of the stops. Man never settles. He goes, he comes, he comes back, but never arrives. In his latest paintings, the bird replaces the man, but he is like him: migratory!
Do the vibrant colors and flowers tell of an evolution in the heart of man or artist? History will not tell. What is certain, however, is that the graphic imprint placed by Daoud on the canvases is like a rewriting, a palimpsest which superimposes states of being.
Here's what Lebanese critic Carla Yared wrote about the series "Réminiscences":
Is all artistic creation an "allegory of Plato's cave" explaining the "conditions of men's access to knowledge of the good," the good and the beautiful? Men, "turning their backs to the entrance [...] see not objects but the shadows of objects that are projected against the wall." Did Plato imply that truth is not accessible to all and that intermediation is needed to apprehend it? Are the shadows of objects projected against the wall of the cave or on the canvases the paintings created-recreated by the artists who alone could face the sun and death? When seeing David Daoud paint, one cannot help but think that he has lived, looked, stored images, emotions, and sensations on the Möbius strip of his unconscious. Then, when reminiscence occurs, he searches as much in his mind as on his palette to transcribe his inner images with the greatest truth, his truth as much as ours. This retrospective of David Daoud's work covers more than twenty years of artistic creation. The constant, the common thread, remains the melancholy aroused by separation, migration, and exile. Here is his mystique. His characters journey. The horse and the boat are the vehicles of their incessant wandering. Nature, and the tree in particular, are often at the heart of the stops. Man never settles. He goes, he comes, he returns, but never arrives. In his latest paintings, the bird replaces man, but it is like him: migratory! Do the bright colors and flowers tell of an evolution in the heart of man or the artist? History will not say. What is certain, however, is that the graphic imprint Daoud affixes to the canvases is like a rewriting, a palimpsest that superimposes states of being.