extrait de Pinxit I, traduit en anglais par Piero Bisello
59
TO PAINT TIME
clandestine work time / alienated work time
Paint in black
Painting the appropriated time in the museum
from Sunday, March 31 to Monday, August 31, 1998
17 months of détourné time.
60
Space-time
RER platform at Austerlitz station, one day of absenteeism
photographic print (10 x 11, 5 cm.)
marks of black ink felt pen. Undated.
61
TO PAINT TIME
spring 1997 - winter 2002
SHOWED TO VISITORS, STAFF AND ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING)
I use the alienated time at the Direction des Musées de France for pictorial purposes. Without paint, the material is time itself.
I try to find the dimensions in which we act in the world, such as time. I don’t mean time as abstraction. The way we experience time is closer to what interests me.
Barry, 1980, p. 40.
This man is delirious. He wants to kill time. But let me tell you, it is not so much a question of killing time as it is of sculpting it, posing it, giving form, expression, and volume to it – it is a matter of carefully collecting the sharp shards that our chisel removes from its mass.
R. Camus, 1994, p. 36.
An inescapable fact, that is time, not as a representation but real time, in the course of which everything evolves, including all the aspects of painting.
Rutault, 1992, p. 16.
That's the day job for you. It's not so tough. You only work at weekends and every other Monday. The rest of the time is for you and your colour assemblages.
Excerpt from comments by the gallery manager.
I don't have time for anything. Here 10 minutes seem like a century and outside it's the opposite. It makes me feel like I'm always here, like I'm running away from my life…
Excerpt from the comments of a colleague.
Sometimes, if he works fast, he has a few seconds left before a new car arrives. Either he takes advantage of these seconds to take a breath or he intensifies his effort, getting a little ahead and reaching the worker from the previous shift. After an hour or two, he might have amassed fabulous two or three minutes of time for himself, which he uses to smoke a cigarette.
Linhart, 1983, p. 12.
62
TO APPROPRIATE TIME
March 30, 1997 – August 31, 1998
SHOWED TO VISITORS, STAFF AND ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING)
Time is the fundamental reason for my actions.
It must be depicted, repainted, reversed. Time is a surface; I make it my own. It is through the appropriated time that a de-alienation takes place. The different traces are only the materialization of it.
I bend the work of time onto the working time.
From April 1997 to August 1998:
Out of 862.50 hours of alienated work I was able to appropriate 617.45 clandestine hours. This was possible because I painted, wrote, exhibited, read, lazed around, saw my friends…
63
To paint the appropriated time in the museum
From Sunday, March 31 to Monday, August 31, 1998:
17 months of détourné time.
64
WALLPAPER
April - May 1999
EXHIBITED IN MY ROOM AND TO THE SELECTION COMMITTEE OF THE YEAR 2000 SHOW*
17 monthly pay slips that went through a desalination process and were coated in glue.
* I was one of the students pre-selected by their former teacher (Mr Amor) to participate in an exhibition of the most promising artists from the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris at the end of the century. I proposed to show the 72 pay slips that since 1993 had been keeping me alive—none of these salaries paid for my vocation. Project refused.
65
CLANDESTINE TIME
September 1997 - January 1998
SHOWED TO STAFF AND ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING)
Significant delays are systematised. I regularly arrive late, nibbling a few moments in the open air…
Sunday, September 22. Arrived at 10.30 am: 0.45 minutes late.
Monday, September 23. Arrived at 12:00: 0.15 minutes late.
Sunday, September 28. Arrived at 10.20 am: 0.35 minutes late.
Monday, October6. Arrived at 10.30 a.m.: 0.45 minutes late.
Saturday, October 11. Arrived at 09.20 am: 0.35 minutes late.
Monday, December. Arrived at 10:30 am: 0.45 minutes late.
Saturday, December 20. Arrived at 09.15 am: 0.30 minutes late.
Saturday, December 27. Arrived at 09.15 am: 0.30 minutes late.
Sunday, January 11. Arrived at 10.20 am: 0.20 minutes late.
Sunday, January 18 Arrived at 10.25 am: 0.40 minutes late.
Monday, January 19. Arrived at 10.00 am: 0.15 minutes late.
Total: 6:15 hours gained
(almost a full working day)
[Non-exhaustive indexing]
I am not sparing myself the pleasure of absenteeism either: on Sundays 8th and 15th of June 1997, on Sundays 29th of March and 28th of June 1998.
66
TRIP TO MOROCCO
March 1 – 8, 1998
SHOWED TO THE MOROCCAN PEOPLE, STAFF AND ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING)
I confess. In order to go to Morocco, I took advantage of my doctor to obtain 2 days of sick leave (March 7 and 8).
March 7, 1998: Apartment closed for lack of caretaker. Fed up with absentees and those on sick leave.
March 8, 1998: Apartment partially open: still fed up with those on sick leave and on holiday.
THE GALLERY MANAGER
Daybook of March 7 and 8, 1998.
67
COMPLICITIES
30 March 1997 - 31 August 1998
SHOWED TO VISITORS, STAFF, THE ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING), AND TO SOME FRIENDS
Relatives and friends are invited to distract me from my work.
I happily find time again…
LISTS OF ACCOMPLICES
(in order of appearance)
Jérôme Gontier
He came on March 31, 1997, the day after his birthday. He inaugurated my clandestine meetings. He would return regularly.
Jean-Charles Agboton-Jumeau (J.-C. A.-J.)
May 10, 1997, April 11, 1998, June 7, 1998, August 30, 1998.
Daniel Duclos
May 10, 1997
André & Josiane Marissal
September 29, 1997.
Franck Doucen
April 11, 1998.
Bruno Eble
May 18, 1998.
Carole Marissal & Jérôme Viallard
July 12, 1998.
Lefevre Jean Claude
August 30, 1998.
Work takes up all the time so there isn’t any left for politics and friends.
Xénophon in Lafargue, 1978, p. 152.
Group portrait,
Some accomplices gathered for the clandestine sale of the magazine Complex'tri J.-C. A.-J. Lefevre Jean Claude, ET N'EST-CE, Jérôme Gontier…
(see below, Echo fasc.IX).
68
TRACES
VISIT REPORTS
March 30, 1997 – August 31, 1998
I ask Carole Marissal and Jérôme Gontier to write me a report of their visit…
CAROLE MARISSAL,
On a sunny Sunday in June, at precisely 11.15 a.m., my friend and I were able to enter the Gustave Moreau Museum, 14 rue de la Rochefoucauld in Paris FREE OF CHARGE, whereas normally the entrance ticket costs 17 francs. Although I say free, we managed because of the absence of staff at the entrance of the museum, and consequently, a lack of security and non-existing reception. It is clear that we were not the only ones to had ventured into illegality; a young, normal-looking woman in her thirties followed us, and surely many others too. Out of good faith, we nonetheless waited a few minutes and finally called someone up to the entrance. However, no one came at the counter. We felt guilty, especially after having seen our image on the security screens, but we entered the museum clandestinely in order to visit the deceased “Monsieur Gustave Moreau.”
Fortunately, there were guards in each room, their eyes sharpened and ready to act at the smallest trouble. We spoke with one of them, Mr Laurent MARISSAL, who invited us to visit a charming exhibition at the museum. This show was located on the top floor: not on a wall or a ceiling, but in the frame of one of the two “non-existent” doors separating the rooms on this floor. The artwork was a fingerprint, placed at the level of the visitor's keen gaze. After analysis, it was clear that it belonged to Mr Laurent MARISSAL. This exhibition was certainly clandestine, but also and above all permanent. It will stay there until the frame is repainted. Finally, at 12.30 pm sharp, we headed to the exit after our visit of two exhibitions: the one of Gustave Moreau and that of MARISSAL.
69
JÉRÔME GONTIER,
Rennes, May 2002
(for this version)
Sunday, March 31, 1997. While in Paris for the weekend, I visit L. M. at his work place: Musée Gustave Moreau, rue La Rochefoucauld, Paris. Laurent advises me to mention that I am coming for a chat with the trade union delegate, so the entrance would be free for me. After climbing a few steps and pushing the heavy door to make my way in, I am at the ticket counter. A skinny man sits there. He interrupts my explanations, stutters a couple of words, and with a weary look he points me to the right direction. I thank him. On the first floor, I visit the so-called painter's room, which is overloaded with knick-knacks. A guard is sitting in a corner but that’s not the one I am looking for. I inquire about the exact position where my friend is set for the day. The man, a tired looking thirty-year-old, nicely answers me: “He must be upstairs, on the second floor…” We part with a smile. I come out of the room, following the narrow corridor lined with red tents. The second staircase leads to a large room with display cases in the middle. I look to the right: another guard but not him. I turn to the left and there he is, sitting down, reading. He smiles and waves at me to come close. I am amused by the transgression I am part of. We handshake and he tells me: “Come on, let's stand here. There is the camera over there…”. Two chairs, side by side, in the blind corner. Still talking about our respective artworks, he gets up and says: “You have to go. I have to close the museum. Wait for me outside, I’ll be there.” So I follow, as I don't have much else to do that day. Laurent laughs. He says he has thrown all the visitors out.
Going down rue La Rochefoucauld, we walk towards Place de la Trinité. We sit in a café in front of the church where he explains about his new-born project. It's already very clear in his mind, it's already a done deal: “The museum owns my working time, whether it is for me a means of subsistence, a means of production, or a commodity. By buying my labour power, the museum assigns me to a function. If this function is perverted by the alienated employee, the museum sanction by sacking them. If I go beyond my function, I break the contract… They think they're buying my work force, whereas they're financing the production of a work of mine they won't be able to use. It goes against their interests…”. It is 1:55 pm. The end of Laurent’s break is approaching. When I'm pointing this out to him, he says: “it's part of my clandestine work: here and there I scrape together bits and pieces of my alienated time, I'll do the counting at the end…”. He leaves in a great burst of laughter. We cross the boulevard. The light is harsh. I walk up Rue La Rochefoucauld with him until we shake hands again and part. We are both restrained again…
120
PAINTING AND TOILET
September 1999
SHOWED TO OFFICERS AND ADMINISTRATION (WITHOUT THEM KNOWING)
With the arrival of an interim administrator, we win the basics. Among other topics, discussions to allocate museum budget to create staff toilets were quick and efficient.
In November, the new administration made possible to repaint a storage room located under the bathrooms and create new toilets to replace the showers on the second level of the emergency staircase. In regards with these new toilets, the works included new walls, paint, woodwork, pipes, radiators, PVC flooring, a double sink, toilet bowl, and tiles. These works, in the amount of 46,588.62 francs, were financed by the museum.
Extract from the CHS minutes of December 13, 1999.
On October 4, 2001 I signed the toilet. I engraved my initials on the painted wall with a key (the one that opens my office at USPAC CGT).
Genre scene… and social (space) sculpture. Since the creation of the CGT section, we have obtained toilets! […] The configuration of the site will change: a real staff room will be opened…
Extract from the profession of faith of L. M.
121
Leaflet with sphinx or chimera
Leaflet distributed on December 20, 1999 to the agents of the Gustave Moreau Museum.
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