Rouge flamme 1972

Editor: This is Bernard Aubertin’s *Rouge Flamme*, from 1972. It looks like mostly acrylic paint and impasto. At first glance, it’s fiery! The texture is so thick; you could almost reach out and feel the flames. What strikes you when you look at this, more than just the color? Curator: Ah, Aubertin! He wanted to set art on fire, metaphorically, and sometimes literally! It’s more than just redness; it's about that raw, consuming energy. He’s built up this incredible surface with impasto—layers upon layers of matter. Does that texture give you a sense of history, like geological strata? Or something more chaotic, more immediate? Editor: I think it’s more immediate – it reminds me of looking at lava flowing. Is that sense of motion what he was trying to achieve, despite using impasto? Curator: Exactly. He captures that moment of fiery transformation, almost alchemical. Aubertin’s work can feel pretty violent, wouldn’t you say? I find that interesting alongside its undeniable, arresting beauty. He’s grappling with the very essence of matter and energy, so how can one show it delicately? Editor: So, the roughness is intentional – it’s part of the message, it seems? It does add to the power. I assumed at first that it was just Abstract Expressionism, but now it seems so much more controlled. Curator: Controlled chaos, perhaps? Think about how Aubertin, associated with Yves Klein, uses monochrome to amplify that effect. Eliminating color variation focuses us on the *thing* itself: the texture, the energy. It pushes Abstract Expressionism into new territories. It’s both expressive and minimal. Did anything new appear during our dialogue? Editor: Definitely. Seeing it as controlled chaos helps me understand why it feels both visceral and, strangely, serene at the same time.