‘Barbapapa’
— Nix Thérèse
Isabelle Chapuis’ ‘Barbapapa’ dips us into a dreamscape where the self is not lost; instead it gains an affinity with the intangible. The usually untouchable cloud descends to seamlessly juxtapose the Black boy’s rockabilly sensibility. While his style and swagger permeate every shot, how can you not feel challenged by the quiet intimacy of his gaze? As he dominates the frame, the pink pop of cotton candy softens him: tendrils of sugar pull from his rings, form a dust-moustache, and nod to a subtle sweet-tooth; his taut arm muscles & stomach tell the story of a hard-working musician at rest while the pink mohawk fans off his head; his body’s straight lines attract spinning clouds to his middle, his pants, his back. But when he’s covered in shredded cotton candy dust, so fine that we almost can’t pick it out of his hair or swipe it from his face and chest, the portraits feel considerably less airy. Running out of focus, the studs of the leather jacket imply that they too have burst. He is the only solid inside a shattered dream; he is a tiny universe covered in ruptures. Sweetness moves to swallow him completely: first the torso, then the head, then a whole body-stretch until the face and hands float alone above this soft mass. His gestures don’t fully give us surrender. The face drawn downward implies a submission to/knowledge of the body before this pink fog ever came into play. Even as he takes on new shapes, this fantasy of softness revolves around the boy fully rooted in himself.