PARIS
JANUARY 10 - FEBRUARY 10, 2024
Fondation H has invited Cynthia Colney for a two-month residency at the Cité internationale des arts in Paris, following her participation in the ONDES program—a three-month residency program run by the Cité internationale des arts in Paris for artists living in or from French overseas departments and territories.
The exhibition Misy diso [There are mistakes], presented from January 10 toFebruary 10 at Fondation H’s space in Paris, is the outcome of her research projects.
CYNTHIA COLNEY
DISCUSSES WITH ASTRIDE YAOBA
My name is Cynthia Colney. I was born in Madagascar in 1991. I am a French-Malagasy painter living in Kourou, French Guiana.
I studied Art Sciences at the Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne, then went on to do a master’s degree in design and environment, and finally completed my higher education with management and innovation studies at the Centre Michel Serres. I never thought that becoming an artist was an option for me, as I considered my practice to be more of a passion than a real profession.
After working in the fields of communication and innovation, I undertook an international solidarity volunteering mission in Côte d’Ivoire, where I ended up settling between 2018 and 2022. Moving out of Paris into Abidjan’s new environment triggered in me the strong desire to take up painting and drawing again and to learn ceramics. In the end, the decision to make art my profession comes from a long journey that had been going on at the height of the Covid-19 crisis. It was quite ambitious, but it was also the best time to start my artistic career.
This project was born of my homecoming to my country of origin, Madagascar, in January 2023. I left the country more than 15 years ago and had not set foot back in 10 years. Through these works, I wanted to talk about all the uncertainties linked to my identity, about things I do not know. It is also a way for me to get closer to a significant part of my roots, and therefore of my history.
I tried to capture the essence of my latest trip, which had been extraordinarily rich and had brought back many memories. I rediscovered childhood memories, met family members and reopened my family home, which had not been opened for years. Being away from Madagascar for such a long time allowed me to come back with fresh eyes; I embraced, noted down and kept alive the many emotions I felt and the memories that came back during this particular trip.
My project Misy diso [There are mistakes] is about this homecoming time. As days passed by during my residency, I was confronted with a culture that is my own, but that I did not know as well as I thought. Misy diso [There are mistakes] is also a nod to the spelling and syntax errors I can make in writing and speaking.
The mistakes are not visibly transcribed in my paintings. My paintings are inspired by my personal archives, which I can alter to my liking. I use painting to idealize scenes I have witnessed and/or memories I hope I have lived.
Coming froma dual culture, I came to realize that I will not be able to master anything perfectly on either side. For example, I write Malagasy the way hear it, and if you pay attention, you will find lots of mistakes. It is quite special, because when I go back in time, I get glimpses of past-life experiences: snippets of memories, snatches of stories, of songs, and this is really the heart of my project.
My research revolves around personal archives, recollections of life experiences, family photographs and other references that help form the whole. This project propels me to encounter my Malagasy culture by gathering information that seem sometimes disconnected and by trying to fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle.
During this trip, I made it my mission to visit my grandmother’s grave to lay bird-of-paradise flowers there. The journey was a real obstacle course, as I had no idea of the route to take to get there. Despite using a map sketched out by my uncle, I had to go fishing for information among the local population, going door-to-door to find the exact location. These stories, these anecdotes, these routes taken are key resources in the development of this project.
I think history is depicted from each person’s perspective. However much we try to be objective, the facts are often tinted by our own perception.
It is therefore a way for me to reappropriate and share my own story, but that does not mean it is totally true! When I tell my story, I can start from reality and bring in my perception of things, which acts as a filter that alters reality, my reality. Each of us has a unique perception that alters what we want to share.
We may experience the same reality, but our perception skews how we tell the story.
The choice of colors is made unconsciously, instinctively. From Guyana to Paris, through Côte d’Ivoire and Madagascar, color management can be the first step in starting a painting.
There are really no predefined rules. I can start forward instinctively and then, in the process of construction, I may discover interesting colors, so I do some in depth color work until I am satisfied with the result. I only realize the link with my surroundings when the painting is over. Or, on the contrary, I know in advance the color I want to achieve, and I stick to it, as in this current project where I want to bringout the red earth of Madagascar.
The series of details echoes snatches of memories. I work on tightly framed shots. The idea was to focus on a detail rather than on the overall vision to emphasize an experience, a moment in time.
Being used to working over large formats, which gives me great freedom of gesture, working on small surfaces was a real challenge! I had to be meticulous and, above all, patient in this exercise, which is far from being my forte. But in the end, I enjoyed it and gave it my all, pushing the boundaries with lines, details and colors.
In this series, the feet details are primarily evocative of my native land. There is also a reference to reconnecting with our roots, through our feet, which literally make this possible. It is also a nod to zanatany [“foreigners”in Malagasy, but literally meaning “children of the land”], who can feel a keen sense of belonging to a land through their love of it, and not necessarily through their origin.
In the end, by narrowing faces, bodies and vegetation, I was able to say a lot more, while at the same time leaving no room for suggestion to allow free interpretation of what is not shown, like clues.