A painter who defines beauty and meaning in the empty spaces of a canvas

How did you come to realise your medium and style of paintings? What influenced you?

It took a long time—years, to be honest. Then, I started to paint abstract works on enormous canvases, like swathes of colour. Looking back, I realise I was scared to leave an empty part on the canvas. I used to add coat after coat of paint.

Due to the lack of space in my studio, I have tried working on paper and loved it. It helped me find the balance between negative and positive spaces and, above all, accept the empty space.

I did dozens of drawings before being satisfied. Today, my favourite mediums are ink, gouache and paper – but I like being able to change them.

My influences are numerous: graphism, constructivism, of course, the artistic movement of the Bauhaus, and minimalism. However, I am also interested in the Japanese aesthetic. Aurélie Nemours, Marie Therese Vacossin, Satoru Satō, and Sol LeWitt are a few artists who inspire me.

Your geometric compositions often involve negative and positive spaces. Do you frame these compositions in mind? What’s your working process?

Usually, the first step is to choose 1 or 2 colours. Then, I make small sketches with them to see if they match.

The negative space is very different depending on the colours. Then, I started by drawing a line or a geometric form, and slowly and gradually, I built the artwork.

A single line can change everything, so I take my time. I stop when I find it harmonious and never look back. I often imagine drawings in my head, but it’s more about staying creative than about achieving them exactly.

You mentioned that your work concerns ‘relationship, distance, missing and empty spaces.’ These are very personal and intimate emotions, expressed in strict geometric forms. How do you find a connection between organic and inorganic?

The basis of my work is finding a balance between organic and inorganic. I like to highlight the contrasts between geometry’s intellectual side and abstract writing’s sensibility. I think we can find beauty in math and rigour in letting go; it all depends on how you look at things. Anyway, it makes sense to me.

Everything is nuanced; dissonance can create harmony.

It’s the same with relationships, the solid foundations we try to build, and the lightness of our emotions. We all try to swim between recklessness and steadiness.

Your art books and love letters are so unusual; when I read the title ‘love letters,’ I didn’t expect to see minimal geometry with muted colours. What is your reaction when you see your complete work? Are you usually satisfied with how it turns out?

‘Love Letters’ is my first real series. It was the first time I used the same medium and the exact sizes for such an extended period, so it was new for me, and I want to continue exploring it. It brings constancy to my work.

When I see my complete work, I think I have found my way, but there is still much to accomplish.

I want to explore the possibilities paper offers more than I do now. I will also continue improving my binding technique for artist’s books; I find them a bit messy for now.

About the drawings, well, I’m satisfied with the ones I keep…

LOVE LETTERS

Click here to view Nadia’s ‘Love Letter’ series

In your work series, you use abstract writing; how did you develop this concept and what is abstract writing for you?

I usually doodle when I’m on the phone, and a form of writing close to the one I currently draw often appeared on my scraps of paper. Of course, I just improved it a little. But it was there, somewhere… For me, abstract writing is defined by all the words we don’t dare to say, all that remains at the thought stage. They exist but only on a conceptual level.

Do you think people fail to see the beauty and meaning in empty spaces?

Actually, I think emptiness and fullness are indissociable. We need calm to enjoy the action and solitude to enjoy the company. But empty spaces, like solitude, can be scary. It’s a learning process to see their importance and elegance. They provide value to each other. Maybe some people only appreciate it unconsciously.

On a funny note, last year, I brought one of my artworks to a printer to make limited editions. When he saw the drawing, he told me, ‘ It would be wise to bring a finished drawing to ensure the result.’

A great moment of loneliness.

So, yes, some people fail, and it’s too bad.

Follow Nadia B’s work at https://nab-art.net

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