The Artful Life
‘I don’t know if I’m any good, I just have to do it. I paint everyday.’
THE LATE FRENCH ARTIST known simply as ‘Pascal,’ was born in the south of France in 1928 as an only child, raised mainly by his mother, grandmother and uncle in a large country home with big doors to many rooms. He began creating art at a very young age to entertain himself. It was pre-WWII, and his father was part of the Resistance and gone most of the time. He came to the United States around 1975.
He was a cowboy in Montana, before he moved south to Navajo country where he lived, loved, and painted for several years before moving to Taos in the 80s. Many of his paintings have small unpainted sections, often at the perimeter, reminiscent of a Navajo weaving – an opening to let the Spirit in or out.
Pascal and I met in 2005 at the Taos Cow in Arroyo Seco. Coffee culture was alive and well. Back then, few people sat quietly vacant behind digital screens. Strangers talked to strangers, encouraged by smiles and eye-to-eye contact.
I was welcomed into the clutch by Pascal, the eccentric French artist; Rhonda, the psychic; Stan, the Zen priest from Brooklyn; and a man called Don (I didn’t know if that was his title or his name). Sipping coffee under the trees next to the arroyo with these unforgettable characters was a pleasant initiation into Taos life. Pascal’s accent was so strong I had to focus with deep concentration to understand what he was saying. I still missed much of what he said in the beginning. I’d fill in between the lines and keep listening and asking questions. I learned much about art, painting, philosophy, and life as our friendship grew.
Pascal lived in a small shack near the Cow. No running water, no kitchen, just one room full of his paintings and sculptures. There was just enough room to step to the two wooden stools set before a small wood stove with a kettle on top. Opposite the door was a bench-like bed under a window, where models sometimes posed. And always, there were easels supporting paintings in progress. The smell of burnt wood, pipe tobacco, oil paints, and other mediums infused the space. He said the shack was perfect for his old dogs and him. It was cozy, raw; a quintessential artist’s retreat. An ‘Outsider’ before the term ‘Outside Artist’ was coined in 1972 by French painter Jean Dubuffet. Pascal’s art was raw, what Dubuffet termed “art brut.” He valued his freedom and creativity; he lived life on his own terms. He had joined his father’s business as a young man, soon to realize that he didn’t want to be in business. He was an artist. He left family and home. Sailed the Mediterranean with a group of friends, joined a circus, and eventually arrived in America.
Although the circus and the sea both made appearances in his work, mostly, his art was figurative. Pascal marveled at the human anatomy. A composition with too many people just sitting around would become boring, though. His figures are making love, making music, dancing, intertwining, and communing with Pan. There is beauty, symbolism, and humor in this art.
“I don’t know if I’m any good, I just have to do it,” Pascal would say. “I paint everyday.”
Symbolic of the life he was creating, the self-taught artist burned his Doctorate of Philosophy certificate. Yet, he remained an everyday philosopher. “A thinker,” he would say. He spoke six languages, read the great works, enjoyed classical music, and was quick to wit and laughter.
In his later years, it became apparent he’d had a stroke, as he was mixing five languages in the same conversation – French, Spanish, Greek, Latin, English and German, which he’d learned when the Nazis invaded France. The stroke led him to leave his Arroyo Seco shack and move to an apartment in town. World Cup then became his regular coffee shop, where one could find him daily in discourse with fellow artists. Pascal was captured by the Nazis when he was 15 years old. They wanted to find his father through him. He never knew where his father was. He found the whole situation absurd. So absurd that
For many years, Pascal d’Aigremont was a familiar face around town.
he couldn’t help but laugh. A soldier responded with the butt of a rifle. Pascal relied on his wits, to escape the Nazis, after they transported him and ten others to a location where they could intensify their interrogation. The Nazis took over a farmhouse en route. When a guard accompanied one of the prisoners outside to the outhouse, Pascal rigged the lock so it would look and sound as if it had locked, but it hadn’t. Later, he and others disappeared into the night. He spent several years, until the end of WWII, hiding out in the mountains of Spain, and as a member of the Resistance. Pascal died April 5, 2020. This is the first show of his work since he passed. It’s an opportunity for those who knew him, and those who wish they had, to celebrate his life and art.
To honor Pascal’s love of animals, part of the proceeds from the sales will be donated to the no-kill animal shelter, Stray Hearts. Another animal lover, Philip Bareiss, is donating time and space at Bareiss Gallery, 15 Route 150. Art prices will be lower than what you might have seen in the past, or will in the future, to give anyone who’d like to own a piece of this remarkable artist’s work a good opportunity, while benefitting animals at the same time. Bring your open hearts, and your Pascal memories, thoughts, and anecdotes to share.
From top: ‘Odalisque’, ‘Sleeping Nude’