PORTRAIT by Henri Heraut
By Henri Heraut
I first met Raphy in 1972 at his first group exhibition of his works at the Galerie R.G. on rue Bonaparte in Paris. It was abstract painting, a more difficult genre than one might think. I was immediately struck by the intense life that emanated from these tangled masses. I asked him if he happened to be related to a certain Raphy le Persan, a painter quite well-known in Parisian circles.
"I am not Persian," he told me, smiling, "but Armenian." Responsible each year for forming a group of artists chosen from among the best of the year to renovate the "Salon des Artistes Français" (somewhat academic, as we know), I did not fail to immediately invite RAPHY to be among them. And since then, despite the numerous new requests for admission, I always keep him in my group, which he enhances with increasingly remarkable submissions. I thought it would be interesting for our readers to know more about the man and his work.
So I went to his home in Clichy-sous-Bois [...] Once through the gate, a charming little garden awaits. The last roses of the bygone summer were scattering their crumpled petals across the lawn. As soon as you enter, [...] the conversation begins.
- "Tell me, dear friend, RAPHY must be your stage name! What is your Armenian surname, if I may be so bold?
- "You want to know! Well, here it is: Raphaël GAZRIGHIAN - from Raphaël I got RAPHY."
- "I was born in 1926, in France, in Neuilly-sur-Marne, where my parents (who lived in Istanbul, fleeing Turkish persecution) had taken refuge. My father was a tailor, but from a young age, all I could think about was drawing and painting. I also had a strong penchant for anything related to science."
- "Aren't you currently a chemical engineer and laboratory manager?"
- "Certainly, which allows me to continue painting without having to submit to the servitude imposed by dealers. I began painting in 1950. From 1953 to 1958, lacking time during the day, I took evening drawing classes at the school at 80 Blvd Montparnasse with H.G. Adam, an engraver and sculptor, as my teacher. He died young, but his influence is not felt in your painting."
- "No, you're right, I ended up finding my own way. You could say I'm self-taught."
Indeed, not only does Raphy's painting not resemble that of H.G. Adam (it is much more lyrical and warm than his master's), but it is difficult to find analogies among the work of various contemporary abstract painters. Gradually, his true merits were recognized. He was allowed to exhibit at the "Salon d'Automne," then the "Salon des Artistes Français," the Salon Gemmail, etc., in Clichy-sous-Bois. In the provinces, some of his paintings were seen in La Baule, La Grange de Meslay, and Rouen. Since 1972, he has been a regular guest at the National Exhibition of Contemporary Art.
His first solo exhibition in 1972 (at the Galerie R.G.) attracted some extremely complimentary articles.
He has continued to receive awards.
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1970: Prize from the General Council of Seine-Saint-Denis
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1972: Honorable Mention at the Salon des Artistes Français
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Prize from the Cercle Culturel in Neuilly-sur-Marne
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1973: Painting Prize in Sevran
- Prize from the European Academy of Arts
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1974: Silver Medal from the City of Villemomble
- Prize for Composition in Noisy-le-Sec
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1975: Grand Prize from the Galerie d'Art du Raincy
- 1st Grand Prize from the Municipal Council of Clichy-sous-Bois
All these honors, however, have in no way intoxicated our artist, who remains eminently modest and reserved. Let's just say that he has nothing of the expansive Oriental, speaking with forceful gestures. Is this a result of past lives? But one feels as if one is in the presence of a Nordic artist, very balanced, with tastes opposed to those of the Southerners.
- "I like," he confides to me, "the mist, the rain, and bad weather."
In his vast studio on the second floor, he presents his works (piled up by the hundreds) without any commentary, which he would consider indecent. It's up to us to gradually guess his secret intentions. Nevertheless, we are dazzled from the outset by the exceptional magnificence of the colors. The tones, brought to their maximum, nevertheless remain light in intensity, transparent. It's almost magical.
He begins by showing us his first figurative works. A decisive mind par excellence (like any scientist), he quickly realized that this was not his path. "I was born abstract," he told us; immediately, moreover, his successes in this genre were revealed to be dazzling, although his research remained continuous. He had his own way of working.
He first makes, most often, a tiny pencil sketch without any color indications and from this he builds often gigantic works.
- "Sometimes," he told me, "I even do without a little sketch." He dives straight onto the canvas.
- "Always standing," he adds,
- "I go, I come, I judge from near and far, in complete freedom."
And inspiration comes, he doesn't know how himself. Suddenly he leaves the canvas there, then takes it up again with a sterner gaze than ever, three or four months later. He thus has several canvases at the same time, under construction, which he is constantly perfecting.
- "Sometimes," he confides, "the canvas changes over time until it is complete. I can't help it.
I must persist in her until I like her in every way. Only then do I leave her to her fate."
I then ask him, perhaps as a critic a little too fussy, what his criteria are when it comes to creation. He won't or can't answer me. He repeats,
- "I have to like her, that's enough."
Fortunately, he is extremely demanding of himself. He will never botch his paintings. After the splendid dazzling of the colours , we can see the skilful harmony of the whole, passion and measure combined. The scientist and the artist supporting each other. Another subject of astonishment is the rather frail physical appearance of RAPHY and the power of his pictorial temperament.
Busy as he was with his duties as a chemical engineer all day long, he could only devote himself to painting in the evening around six o'clock and on Saturdays and Sundays. Despite the fatigue of the day or the week, as soon as he sits down at his easel, he regains all his spiritual strength.
- "I confess to you," he adds almost with shame, "that on certain Sundays, I sometimes paint standing up for sixteen hours in a row."
We would not like to end this article without mentioning two traits which, in our opinion, clearly mark RAPHY's excessive modesty: humility and self-effacement, which his more realistic wife sometimes reproaches him for.
As a Laboratory Manager at the well-known hair care company L'Oréal, he could have taken advantage of this opportunity. The establishment had recently opened the largest painting gallery in Paris, on Avenue Matignon. He could have exhibited in this prestigious new gallery with the Director's recommendation. Modest, he refrained from such an approach.
- "They couldn't understand me," he told me.
- "My painting is a whole other world!"
Perhaps he's right, but he could have tried.
And here's the second, even more striking feature: as we were discussing the recognition of the terrible genocide perpetrated by the Turks in 1915, he said to me, as if incidentally,
"You know, I was commissioned to create a poster of BEIRUT for the sixtieth anniversary." I immediately asked to see it, and, seeing my admiration, he added that he had painted a whole series of canvases relating to the genocide. [...] In this regard, let our readers unfamiliar with abstract art be too surprised. Abstract art must be judged by the pictorial spirit that animates the forms, not by a particular detail.
For the lover of figurative art at all costs, one can still distinguish a few innocent birds, suspended, sacrificed in one of the paintings, and in the other, some unintended satanic figures, yet expressly created by the artist, emerging from a purely subconscious.
Faced with the admirable bearded man, as we exclaim
- "But it's Christ," the artist, quite simply, continues
- "But it's true! I never realized it."
His sincerity is total. He is the plaything of the outpourings of his inner world.
Bird themes often recur in his works, sometimes mystical, which lead him to the threshold of paradise with its marvelous lights. Solar circles abound as often as birds.
- "Sometimes," he tells me, "in the summer they enter through the open window in the studio, on the edge of the windowpane."
As we chat, I admire a little sparrow pecking at a crust of bread placed for it by the artist.
But it's getting late. I regretfully leave this friendly family of artists [...] The dream of the abstract is over.