Open in a corolla, a poppy takes in the air through its scarlet petals. Its thin stem bends under its featherweight and its head, covered in wrinkles, bows, bidding farewell. As if, in a final effort, the intoxication of color wants to enrapture the senses. In its own way, pale and bare legs curl up in a mandarin veil, from which a brown fleece protrudes. The garment and the model, separated lovers, come together in the air, leaving the earth in a single bound.
Whether woman or flower, Sophie Delaporte shows the living, the pulsing, the moving. For nothing lasts, and everything in her photographs beats to the rhythm. Shapes and hues respond to each other, sometimes round, stiff, clear, or more intense, phases of the same cycle, always starting again. The artist knows that time flies and carries away the radiance of bodies and things. Therefore, she ensures that she shows them at their best. Her muses are in their prime, and their supple gestures are full of grace. Confidence reigns between them and the camera, so that facing it, underwater or on the studio stage, they dance without restraint. Undressed and yet caught in billowing fabric, they gain momentum and describe in free-wheeling fashion a quantity of abstract spirals, alluding to the ballets of Loïe Fuller or Pina Bausch.
Lemon yellow, coral, indigo… Sophie Delaporte’s palette is acidic and collects bright or electric tones. However, she never loses balance: flat areas of gray, white, or Persian blue complete her range, whose perfect harmony ensures the « symmetry of forces » praised by Johannes Itten. Like Goethe, Delaporte believes in the psychology of colors, these « acts and sufferings of light » that appear as soon as the artist « allows themselves to be guided by their feelings. » They have variable temperatures, ranging from hot to cold and vice versa, like a microclimate. Their pure shades scroll on the wall and modify the atmosphere according to the impressions they give.
These halos with soothing virtues cultivate the art of joy, and nothing in these blurred images disturbs the overall harmony. Even the blur is deliberate, opening up a liquid space reminiscent of watercolor, where everything glides, merges, and is lost in a host of fleeting appearances, already seen in dreams. Some come alive in short videos, following, from droplets to excrescences, the metamorphoses of a camellia or a lily.
Sophie Delaporte is categorical: a woman is a woman, not an object of desire, and flowers wither when the seasons change. Starting from a whole, Bloom of Color supports her chromatic manifesto: here, nature is envisaged as it is, powerful and perishable, in the wake of a quiet ecofeminism, taking the side of the beautiful rather than the noisy. Her passionate photography orchestrates a ceremony: the coronation of spring.
Open in a corolla, a poppy takes in the air through its scarlet petals. Its thin stem bends under its featherweight and its head, covered in wrinkles, bows, bidding farewell. As if, in a final effort, the intoxication of color wants to enrapture the senses. In its own way, pale and bare legs curl up in a mandarin veil, from which a brown fleece protrudes. The garment and the model, separated lovers, come together in the air, leaving the earth in a single bound.
Whether woman or flower, Sophie Delaporte shows the living, the pulsing, the moving. For nothing lasts, and everything in her photographs beats to the rhythm. Shapes and hues respond to each other, sometimes round, stiff, clear, or more intense, phases of the same cycle, always starting again. The artist knows that time flies and carries away the radiance of bodies and things. Therefore, she ensures that she shows them at their best. Her muses are in their prime, and their supple gestures are full of grace. Confidence reigns between them and the camera, so that facing it, underwater or on the studio stage, they dance without restraint. Undressed and yet caught in billowing fabric, they gain momentum and describe in free-wheeling fashion a quantity of abstract spirals, alluding to the ballets of Loïe Fuller or Pina Bausch.
Lemon yellow, coral, indigo… Sophie Delaporte’s palette is acidic and collects bright or electric tones. However, she never loses balance: flat areas of gray, white, or Persian blue complete her range, whose perfect harmony ensures the « symmetry of forces » praised by Johannes Itten. Like Goethe, Delaporte believes in the psychology of colors, these « acts and sufferings of light » that appear as soon as the artist « allows themselves to be guided by their feelings. » They have variable temperatures, ranging from hot to cold and vice versa, like a microclimate. Their pure shades scroll on the wall and modify the atmosphere according to the impressions they give.
These halos with soothing virtues cultivate the art of joy, and nothing in these blurred images disturbs the overall harmony. Even the blur is deliberate, opening up a liquid space reminiscent of watercolor, where everything glides, merges, and is lost in a host of fleeting appearances, already seen in dreams. Some come alive in short videos, following, from droplets to excrescences, the metamorphoses of a camellia or a lily.
Sophie Delaporte is categorical: a woman is a woman, not an object of desire, and flowers wither when the seasons change. Starting from a whole, Bloom of Color supports her chromatic manifesto: here, nature is envisaged as it is, powerful and perishable, in the wake of a quiet ecofeminism, taking the side of the beautiful rather than the noisy. Her passionate photography orchestrates a ceremony: the coronation of spring.
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