Early January 2025, my family and I moved to Tokyo, for an artist residency. Invited and supported by Nanzuka gallery, who represent me here in Japan, to work on two major projects. We moved to an amazing house in Toshima-ku, in the strange but idyllic Tokugawa village. “Us” is Sarah, my english wife who works with me as my studio manager, Lou our 9 year old train Otaku son, and Hugo my blond 5 year old whirlwind. I moved here to work on a big installation for the french pavillon at the Exposition Universelle in Osaka, and to create a solo show at the newly opened “Nanzuka Institute”

　So we arrived in sunny Tokyo to a big empty house with a japanese garden, in a “village” with kids running and playing outside all day long, surrounded by Sakura trees and chirping birds. This strange island of peace, in the middle of one of the biggest and busiest cities in the world, was such a welcome change from our busy/noisy everyday life in Paris.

　Nanzuka came to set up a home studio for us to work from, and the kids started school, and surprisingly quickly we settled into our new life. The weather in January and February was incredible. Painting all day in the sun and discovering the city as a resident, one outing at a time. Family Mart became my obsession and I started wanting to paint everything around me, from the mushroom packaging at Isetan Queen to the magazine cover I couldn’t read, and the sticker on the window of my Yamanote Ride.

　At the same time, we arrived in a semi empty house, with minimal furniture, so it was a treasured time of camping indoors and buying random bits and pieces. Little by little we accumulated enough cardboard from all the packaging for Hugo and me to start cutting them out and piecing them back together in the form of monsters, robots and garden boats. The studio started filling up with colors and paintings, sketches and cut outs. I felt a sense of playfulness I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe this was exactly why Tokyo felt like the right place as soon as we arrived: it was here that I could reset and feel inspired again.

　My job consists of observing and retelling: translating my everyday in a narrative universal enough to communicate to all. A discreet tweak on our shared experiences that I felt had suffered from a daily grind. The “rat race” they call it. And, yes, even people who draw for a living can feel it. We just draw less happily I guess. I regularly make changes to my practice when I get tired of something. I went from drawing, to small paper sets, to painting, in order to create a body of work diverse enough to adapt to what I wanted to say, when I wanted to say it. But lately I had felt like I was going round in circles. That feeling stopped instantaneously when I arrived here and started painting whatever I was getting excited by around me.