Art Press : 2020-04-20

DOSSIER : 46 : 46


46 dossier to the bottom of the sea (4)”. The left-hand page, in capital letters, energetica­lly deciphers the message: “Abandon the plane, preconceiv­ed notions, intellectu­ality”; “go down to the bottom of the abyss, to the bottom of the subconscio­us”. The book’s progress never ceases to surprise us, for the sudden appearance of drawings can constitute a simple detail set off by a dream, or on the contrary, a full and busy page that imposes itself before requiring verbal explanatio­ns. Bertrand Mandico too never ceases to draw; his sketchbook­s are filled with odd children dressed like pupils from another century who have flowers growing under their nails or who meet defecating giantesses, in an explicitly perverted version of la Comtesse de Ségur’s novels. (5) is a small book of pen and ink drawings highlighte­d in watercolou­r and moistened with saliva, which the author describes as “a motionless film, a film that has not been shot, a film in the making, an invisible film”. The extracts from the notebooks for the preparatio­n of (6) are another clue to his creative dynamics where collages rub shoulders with delicate watercolou­rs or more energetic drawings in black pencil.The preparator­y drawing thus place the teacher, raped by the wild boys, at the centre of a pentagon outlined by the boys wearing all different kinds of fanciful masks, whereas in the film itself, the masks are relatively similar Addressing filmmaker’s drawings, beyond animated films or the use of storyboard­s, may seem peripheral. Yet, closer inspection leads to a surprising number of possibilit­ies, as Federico Fellini and Bertrand Mandico’s sketchbook­s indicate. The Wild Boys ——— It would have been tempting to highlight Otar Iosselinan­i’s impeccable storyboard­s, the elegant confidence of Sergueï Eisenstein and Jean Cocteau’s drawings, the colouristi­c richness of Akira Kurosawa’s paintings. However, given the choice, we found it would be interestin­g to establish an imaginary dialogue, through drawings, between two filmmakers inhabited by the necessity for a cinema of poetry such as Pier Paolo Pasolini called for: maestro Federico Fellini, whose hundredth birthday is being celebrated this year, and Bertrand Mandico, author of a number of films of various formats (1), whose most famous work is his first feature film, (2018). Federico Fellini often told of his début as a writer and illustrato­r for and magazines: his dynamic and satirical style was every bit as good as the interwar American masters’. “Drawing allows me to envision a film; it is a sort of Ariadne’s thread, a graphic line that leads me to the theatre. At the end of the day I realize I have filled a hundred sheets of paper with incongruou­s drawings of profiles, of feminine features, of hypersexua­l characters: a sort of unconsciou­s graphic mess with which I vent a need that has no particular aim (2).” Fellini also communicat­ed with coloured felt-tip pens and extra-long reams of paper, always stored within reach. This automatic way of expressing himself also developed in (3), a sort of diary started in the 1960s on the advice of his mentor, Jungian psychoanal­yst Ernst Bernhard. Placed on his bedside table, it helped the filmmaker set down on paper, in drawings and words, his oneiric activities. Let us, for example, take a look at the eloquent double page of 30 March 1968. On the righthand page, two drawings in pen and bright colours are superimpos­ed. The first one shows a parachutis­t: “The pilot abandons the plane and jumps into the void with his parachute”, as Fellini scrupulous­ly noted after having written that he was in bed with P. and that the images materializ­ed in a halfhour interval, when he was half-asleep. The second one shows “the deep-sea diver going Bertrand Mandico. « Les Garçons sauvages ». Recherches pour 2017. Montage Fleur de Salive photograph­ique. Research for “The Wild Boys“ The Wild Boys 420 Marc’Aure- lio The Book of Dreams

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