Planets 1974

Corneille made "Planets" with paint, probably oil or acrylic, and I reckon it was about making a world from scratch. The green, that flat, unapologetic green, feels like a stage. Like a kid's drawing where anything can happen. And those shapes! Layered circles of colour, like targets or maybe cellular structures, hanging in the air, dripping with tendrils of paint. It's science, but not really, it's more like imagining. Down below, there's this figure, or maybe a landscape. It’s hard to tell, and that’s the point. Look at the way the colours butt up against each other, not blended, but alive and vibrating. It reminds me of Joan Miró, that playful sense of invention. "Planets" isn’t about perfection; it's about the joy of making something new, a world that only exists because Corneille put it there. It’s not supposed to make sense, it’s supposed to make you feel.