If it were necessary to reconstruct the CREY132 (or CREYone) mosaic on a canvas, it would necessarily be rich in colors.
The powerful and expressive ones of the comics, the sharp ones that fill the voluminous letters of the frescoes, those used to put a tag in a flash.
In the background, the wall of a vacant lot, a train depot or a metro station. Inevitably, smells of spray paint, acre inks and solvents.
And, if this canvas could have a soundtrack, then it would spit deafening bass which would make it vibrate under the virulence of the kick of a classic of rap 90's. Beacon of an era when aspirated by hip hop, CREY132 evolved in its epicenter of the Parisian suburbs. A golden age governed by the pursuit of permanent challenge, the desire to always do better and above all passion.
For CREY132 it will be that of graffiti. Forever.
These urban wastelands, these walls and these cabins of trains in front of which he spent hours, eyes sometimes a few centimeters to perfect the detail, he knows the texture and the grain by heart. Their brilliance under the rays of the sun, their reflections in the light of the lamppost.
He knows them so perfectly that he has made them the basis of all his works. On canvas, CREY132 reproduces the support, and the support becomes the subject. Pressures on the nozzle, clever inclinations of the bomb, the weaving turns into a gray and grainy facade. Matt and dented sheet metal. Lacquered or chipped wood panel.
New surface to paint. New medium, for massive and reinvented letters, to capture the energy of an urban environment deemed hostile and dull.
New support for a character made screaming with realism by capturing an emotion, by immortalizing a mimicry, by freezing an attitude. Or for an animal in whose eye he will have fixed the distress of one who knows his species doomed to die.
A realism never left raw, CREY132 applying to make up the faces of colored veins, streaks, tags, graphic lines which sometimes grant them, airs of warlike masks. With always a finesse and a precision of line recognized as its signature.
Never without an ulterior motive, the works are always inhabited by a conscience, a claim with a more or less acute point. And, when the canvas does not scream the urgency, it is that the message is to be sought in the details, in one of these speckles which decorate it and that CREY132 likes.
Mouchetis which are as many refuges where he leaves codes and clues for who will be able to interpret or decipher them.
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