Denis Defrancesco

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Vita
Denis Defrancesco is a French artist born on 28 June 1954. He lives and works between Prague, Budapest and Aix-en-Provence.

A Multifaceted Artist
Self-taught, atypical, and iconoclastic, Denis Defrancesco uses a whole range of techniques and materials to give form to his ideas, fantasies, and anxieties.
A great ape in bronze, a giant plexiglass rabbit, a blow-up doll made ofmarble, a plastic Obama, a steel machine for slicing memories, a urinalin oil paint... He keeps giving the world his own twist, transfiguring reality to tell us stories: a childhood fear, a teenage memory, a passionate loveaffair, time fleeting, the body declining, death lurking. It is pop, electric, often bold, and always free.
His work, both carnal and scientific, blends bronze with marble, paint with plexiglass, steel with plastic. He likes nothing more than mixing genres and spurning styles.
Denis Defrancesco is an exalted introvert, an exhibitionist full of modesty, who creates an eclectic, surprising, insolent, and personal body of work with his monumental sculptures, 3-D paintings, and metamorphosisedidols.
A text accompanies each of his sculptures and paintings, like the key to a specific story.
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Exhibitions
Biennale di Venezia 2017
La Burle - Aix en Provence 2018
Milano NHow 2019
Sculpture Line Prague 2019

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Publications
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DefrancescoArt
French artist Denis Defrancesco creates narrative figurative contemporary art.
-Installations
-Paintings
-Sculptures
-Films
-Performances
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Links
Website:
www.defrancescoart.com

Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/defrancescoart/

Wiki:
https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denis_Defrancesco
KING KONG BALLS ASPHALT
Sculpture: Clay on Iron, Wood. Original sculpture on his work table, this sculpture was used to make the mold for my "KingKongballs" in bronze. This sculpture was so beautiful despite the damage caused by the demolding, I decided to consolidate it with resin and keep it. The pieces of asphalt (recovered from a Budapest street under reconstruction) represent our planet in danger. This work is dedicated to our planet and all animals we are destroying.
Denis Defrancesco, Ton, Kunstharz
Le Martinet (The Whip)
Sculpture: Leather, Steel on Marble. The "Martinet" Whip … My Mother’s black look, red streaks on my thighs… The scathing memory of my mischiefs in shorts, a sheaf of lashes to whip out my disobedience… Mummy wasn’t mean ; she was inflexible. … The whip cut short, to start resisting… The little red whip, bare and inoffensive: The powerlessness of the Mother, the revenge of the Son… Man grabbing the handle to take back the Power, like the Male recovering his Virility confiscated by the Female. Might Woman be Man’s dread? The anxiety of castration, this primitive terror… Man dominating Woman to overcome this haunting fear? … Cold sweats and carnal tremors… The Martinet to wander into forbidden ways… Blushing, suffering, moaning with pleasure… 12 lashes for odd rhymes, like 12 syllables for a libertine Alexandrine… The delicious bite of words, the cruel caress of hide against skin… A range of strange kicks and burning pleasures… … The Martinet, brandished like a rod… “I saw him, I blushed, I grew pale at the sight; Trouble rose in my lost soul (…) I felt all my body freeze and burn”… Phaedra, led astray before the Spank, Racine disguised as the Marquis de Sade… Wordplay, naughty play, whip play, wordsmiths at play… … The M of the Martinet dominating the A of Amour… Singular, nasty, crazy, costumed Love… A mask, a bond… The Martinet changing hands. Roles reversed, powers overthrown… The dream of equality between the sexes… The affirmation of Me Too, the Revolution of Not You Either… No doubt the end of a reign and perhaps also the start of a new misunderstanding.
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor
The Gold Rabbit ( Bronze Limited Edition 1/6)
The Gold Rabbit ... He popped out, just like that, one day, from my hat: sitting still and attentive... One ear more or less tilted depending on the secret that one confides in him and the material in which he is made to appear : A body made of plexiglass, carbon, steel, or aluminium... Why not a Golden Rabbit or a Silver Rabbit ? ...A few sleights of hand... Open your eyes now ! “The Rabbit” can be on a human scale or monumental, its dimensions will measure up with our dreams, whoever we are … ... “God is always doing geometry” wrote Plato. Joy now has a figure, a form, and volumes... Happiness is no longer an abstraction: it has a depth to it and four feet, that one just needs to caress to get a feel of bliss... ...A Rabbit like an ancient offering... A kind of Trojan Rabbit to let you into Wonderland... Soft and sweet... No one must be late when it comes to getting a kick out of life, repeats the Rabbit, at the entrance to the warren... The complicit wink of women, the lustful smile of men... ...The Rabbit at the “Origin of the World”, hidden behind the “Cony” of the Middle Ages... The “Cony” that naughty lads pushed into a metaphor and slid betwixt the thighs of lewd lasses... The “Cony” that lost, over time and at the razor’s edge, its ending in French, along with its last bits of hair... The “Cunt” revealed... ...The Rabbit of the « Garden of Delights »... Bosch’s Paradise within reach... A Rabbit sent down from Heaven … Happiness erected, one day, into a Cathedral... Stained-glass windows, to illuminate it… ...A prayer and a final sleight of hand... A herd of Rabbits coming out of the hat... Happiness multiplied... Rabbits of all sizes, each of them unique, sitting still, and attentive...
Denis Defrancesco, Bronze, Gips
King Kong Balls in the garden
King Kong’s Balls, the Gaze of a King, the Royal Pause for the gallery... Millions of “Likes” as though in praise of: “Everyone can go fuck themselves”... Between Conceit and indifference, a certain idea of freedom cast in bronze... Sculpt and let the sculpture speak for itself... ... Those who will see nothing but its attributes will have seen nothing, understood nothing... A grand show to bug the ‘right-minded’... to deceive fools... A half-smile... ... The coarse illusion of an impudent Monkey... The taunt of Kong to set the art-fair “cheetahs’” tongues wagging, for all the masturbatory bonobos to cop complexes... His balls on the table like coconuts thrown in the faces of conformism... His balls out in the open to hide his butt that no one will ever see... ... The calm resistance of an untamed Monkey... His gaze is elsewhere... Far from the human menagerie, the losers, the unsightly, the dicks and the dickless... Far from this brash theatre, this crass comedy... ... The Kong has a dream... A paradise lost... With no cage and no master... A laugh that we cannot hear... His balls like a gong to summon the great feast...
Denis Defrancesco, Bronze, Bronze
THE PINK LADY ( Small Version / Limited Edition of 6)
The Pink Lady Nostalgia. ... C’est une Poupée who says “Yes, yes, yeeessss!..” Who says Amen to whatever may come... A cuddly and consenting Doll... An unabashed doll... The Lady Heroine of all desires... The animated Object of all penchants, all sins... ... Sweetheart, come let us see if the Rose is rose/... A pic to capture that pink ... The wide-open diaphragm... The folds of the crimson robe, under the spotlights exactement... Petals of all colours, but roses are rose in all the gardens of the world, their buds like the diamonds of eternal pleasures... ... A Thousand and One Women... in ONE... The Synthesis is Bold, the Doll pumped up, the combinations multiple, the appearances deceiving...The Stone beneath the Flesh... Hard and cold... A polished and smooth Poupée de Marbre ... A Venus without her Fur... A shaven Sacher-Masoch... Not a hair left of Romanticism... A 2.0 Doll far from The Origin of the World... ... The body calibrated for stereotypical ardours... Unfussy tattoos, curls for artifice, silicone up to the gunwales, seams ready to split: The Pink Lady, Doll of the Quick Fuck… ... We would like her to speak... To pronounce words, sounds other than the conventional onomatopoeia of fawning pleasures... The Mmmm, the Aaaah, or the Ooooh... Letters that would form real words... No: nothing to be done, nothing to be said... ... A voiceless, unsmiling, soulless doll, her slits like bottomless pits, a humourless, joyless Doll... We will never see her heart or her feet, forever sealed in Carrara stone... A non-finito modern Galatea, off-putting her Pygmalion... The sculptor’s dream, his Ladies of yesteryear, his Marys full of grace and virtue, the Roses in bloom of his lost youth...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor
APOLLO BELVEDERE (Pure White Marble / Edition of 1)
The Apollo of the Belvedere. My Years 1972-1974. Emancipation. ... A Gorgon’s curly mane... The Jim Morrison kind, sculpted with rollers, curls sealed with ammonia... The era’s canon of beauty, homemade-style. The first act of my emancipation... ... I was emerging from a childhood that hadn’t spared the rod… My desires cut short... My hair parted on the side... The front fold of my flannels neatly pressed... Not a word out of place... A stiff and starched, ordered childhood… My Self in the closet... My dreams hidden beneath my pillow... ... A pair of motorbikes rumbling across my nights... Hopper and Fonda’s choppers... A trail of dust... Easy Rider, full speed... Freedom sliding on the road... A pair of runaways opening the way for me ... America, the promised land of my Free Will... ..Music in the distance... Woodstock ‘69... Notes full of mud and fervour... Chords screaming with hope and crying out for liberation .... “Freedom, Freedom, Freedom”... Richie Havens’ improv as a personal message sent to me... “Got it”… ... In my mind, my escape plan... My secret to leave my chrysalid... “A long way from my home”... The immensity of the world before me... A swarm of Butterfly-Women on the horizon... ... Something was growing inside me, piercing beneath my skull, sprouting under my skin... Something dividing and rising... Something flowing out of me... I could feel myself becoming handsome; my wings sprouting... ... Hulk, Apollo, and Nietzsche: there was a bit of each in me... This “superhuman” feeling... Become what you are ... Freedom at age 18... The Door open at last... I was going to become what I am...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor
APOLLO BELVEDERE (Marquina Black Marble / Edition of 1)
... A Gorgon’s curly mane... The Jim Morrison kind, sculpted with rollers, curls sealed with ammonia... The era’s canon of beauty, homemade-style. The first act of my emancipation... ... I was emerging from a childhood that hadn’t spared the rod… My desires cut short... My hair parted on the side... The front fold of my flannels neatly pressed... Not a word out of place... A stiff and starched, ordered childhood… My Self in the closet... My dreams hidden beneath my pillow... ... A pair of motorbikes rumbling across my nights... Hopper and Fonda’s choppers... A trail of dust... Easy Rider, full speed... Freedom sliding on the road... A pair of runaways opening the way for me ... America, the promised land of my Free Will... ..Music in the distance... Woodstock ‘69... Notes full of mud and fervour... Chords screaming with hope and crying out for liberation .... “Freedom, Freedom, Freedom”... Richie Havens’ improv as a personal message sent to me... “Got it”… ... In my mind, my escape plan... My secret to leave my chrysalid... “A long way from my home”... The immensity of the world before me... A swarm of Butterfly-Women on the horizon... ... Something was growing inside me, piercing beneath my skull, sprouting under my skin... Something dividing and rising... Something flowing out of me... I could feel myself becoming handsome; my wings sprouting... ... Hulk, Apollo, and Nietzsche: there was a bit of each in me... This “superhuman” feeling... Become what you are ... Freedom at age 18... The Door open at last... I was going to become what I am...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor
APOLLO BELVEDERE (Marble / Edition of 1)
... A Gorgon’s curly mane... The Jim Morrison kind, sculpted with rollers, curls sealed with ammonia... The era’s canon of beauty, homemade-style. The first act of my emancipation... ... I was emerging from a childhood that hadn’t spared the rod… My desires cut short... My hair parted on the side... The front fold of my flannels neatly pressed... Not a word out of place... A stiff and starched, ordered childhood… My Self in the closet... My dreams hidden beneath my pillow... ... A pair of motorbikes rumbling across my nights... Hopper and Fonda’s choppers... A trail of dust... Easy Rider, full speed... Freedom sliding on the road... A pair of runaways opening the way for me ... America, the promised land of my Free Will... ..Music in the distance... Woodstock ‘69... Notes full of mud and fervour... Chords screaming with hope and crying out for liberation .... “Freedom, Freedom, Freedom”... Richie Havens’ improv as a personal message sent to me... “Got it”… ... In my mind, my escape plan... My secret to leave my chrysalid... “A long way from my home”... The immensity of the world before me... A swarm of Butterfly-Women on the horizon... ... Something was growing inside me, piercing beneath my skull, sprouting under my skin... Something dividing and rising... Something flowing out of me... I could feel myself becoming handsome; my wings sprouting... ... Hulk, Apollo, and Nietzsche: there was a bit of each in me... This “superhuman” feeling... Become what you are ... Freedom at age 18... The Door open at last... I was going to become what I am...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Kunststoff
APOLLO BELVEDERE ( White Onyx / Edition of 1)
... A Gorgon’s curly mane... The Jim Morrison kind, sculpted with rollers, curls sealed with ammonia... The era’s canon of beauty, homemade-style. The first act of my emancipation... ... I was emerging from a childhood that hadn’t spared the rod… My desires cut short... My hair parted on the side... The front fold of my flannels neatly pressed... Not a word out of place... A stiff and starched, ordered childhood… My Self in the closet... My dreams hidden beneath my pillow... ... A pair of motorbikes rumbling across my nights... Hopper and Fonda’s choppers... A trail of dust... Easy Rider, full speed... Freedom sliding on the road... A pair of runaways opening the way for me ... America, the promised land of my Free Will... ..Music in the distance... Woodstock ‘69... Notes full of mud and fervour... Chords screaming with hope and crying out for liberation .... “Freedom, Freedom, Freedom”... Richie Havens’ improv as a personal message sent to me... “Got it”… ... In my mind, my escape plan... My secret to leave my chrysalid... “A long way from my home”... The immensity of the world before me... A swarm of Butterfly-Women on the horizon... ... Something was growing inside me, piercing beneath my skull, sprouting under my skin... Something dividing and rising... Something flowing out of me... I could feel myself becoming handsome; my wings sprouting... ... Hulk, Apollo, and Nietzsche: there was a bit of each in me... This “superhuman” feeling... Become what you are ... Freedom at age 18... The Door open at last... I was going to become what I am...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor
King Kong Balls (Edition of 1)
... King Kong’s Balls, the Gaze of a King, the Royal Pause for the gallery... Millions of “Likes” as though in praise of: “Everyone can go fuck themselves”... Between Conceit and indifference, a certain idea of freedom cast in bronze... Sculpt and let the sculpture speak for itself... ... Those who will see nothing but its attributes will have seen nothing, understood nothing... A grand show to bug the ‘right-minded’... to deceive fools... A half-smile... ... The coarse illusion of an impudent Monkey... The taunt of Kong to set the art-fair “cheetahs’” tongues wagging, for all the masturbatory bonobos to cop complexes... His balls on the table like coconuts thrown in the faces of conformism... His balls out in the open to hide his butt that no one will ever see... ... The calm resistance of an untamed Monkey... His gaze is elsewhere... Far from the human menagerie, the losers, the unsightly, the dicks and the dickless... Far from this brash theatre, this crass comedy... ... The Kong has a dream... A paradise lost... With no cage and no master... A feast on the table... A laugh that we cannot hear... His balls like a gong to summon the great feast...
Denis Defrancesco, Bronze, Bronze
THE GOLD RABBIT ( Edition of 1)
... He popped out, just like that, one day, from my hat: sitting still and attentive... One ear more or less tilted depending on the secret that one confides in him and the material in which he is made to appear : A body made of plexiglass, carbon, steel, or aluminium... Why not a Golden Rabbit or a Silver Rabbit ? ...A few sleights of hand... Open your eyes now ! “The Rabbit” can be on a human scale or monumental, its dimensions will measure up with our dreams, whoever we are … ... “God is always doing geometry” wrote Plato. Joy now has a figure, a form, and volumes... Happiness is no longer an abstraction: it has a depth to it and four feet, that one just needs to caress to get a feel of bliss... ...A Rabbit like an ancient offering... A kind of Trojan Rabbit to let you into Wonderland... Soft and sweet... No one must be late when it comes to getting a kick out of life, repeats the Rabbit, at the entrance to the warren... The complicit wink of women, the lustful smile of men... ...The Rabbit at the “Origin of the World”, hidden behind the “Cony” of the Middle Ages... The “Cony” that naughty lads pushed into a metaphor and slid betwixt the thighs of lewd lasses... The “Cony” that lost, over time and at the razor’s edge, its ending in French, along with its last bits of hair... The “Cunt” revealed... ...The Rabbit of the « Garden of Delights »... Bosch’s Paradise within reach... A Rabbit sent down from Heaven … Happiness erected, one day, into a Cathedral... Stained-glass windows, to illuminate it… ...A prayer and a final sleight of hand... A herd of Rabbits coming out of the hat... Happiness multiplied... Rabbits of all sizes, each of them unique, sitting still, and attentive...
Denis Defrancesco, Kunststoff, Kunststoff
King Kong Balls (Small Version) Edition of 8
... King Kong’s Balls, the Gaze of a King, the Royal Pause for the gallery... Millions of “Likes” as though in praise of: “Everyone can go fuck themselves”... Between Conceit and indifference, a certain idea of freedom cast in bronze... Sculpt and let the sculpture speak for itself... ... Those who will see nothing but its attributes will have seen nothing, understood nothing... A grand show to bug the ‘right-minded’... to deceive fools... A half-smile... ... The coarse illusion of an impudent Monkey... The taunt of Kong to set the art-fair “cheetahs’” tongues wagging, for all the masturbatory bonobos to cop complexes... His balls on the table like coconuts thrown in the faces of conformism... His balls out in the open to hide his butt that no one will ever see... ... The calm resistance of an untamed Monkey... His gaze is elsewhere... Far from the human menagerie, the losers, the unsightly, the dicks and the dickless... Far from this brash theatre, this crass comedy... ... The Kong has a dream... A paradise lost... With no cage and no master... A feast on the table... A laugh that we cannot hear... His balls like a gong to summon the great feast...
Denis Defrancesco, Bronze
THE PINK LADY
The Pink Lady Nostalgia. ... C’est une Poupée who says “Yes, yes, yeeessss!..” Who says Amen to whatever may come... A cuddly and consenting Doll... An unabashed doll... The Lady Heroine of all desires... The animated Object of all penchants, all sins... ... Sweetheart, come let us see if the Rose is rose/... A pic to capture that pink ... The wide-open diaphragm... The folds of the crimson robe, under the spotlights exactement... Petals of all colours, but roses are rose in all the gardens of the world, their buds like the diamonds of eternal pleasures... ... A Thousand and One Women... in ONE... The Synthesis is Bold, the Doll pumped up, the combinations multiple, the appearances deceiving...The Stone beneath the Flesh... Hard and cold... A polished and smooth Poupée de Marbre ... A Venus without her Fur... A shaven Sacher-Masoch... Not a hair left of Romanticism... A 2.0 Doll far from The Origin of the World... ... The body calibrated for stereotypical ardours... Unfussy tattoos, curls for artifice, silicone up to the gunwales, seams ready to split: The Pink Lady, Doll of the Quick Fuck… ... We would like her to speak... To pronounce words, sounds other than the conventional onomatopoeia of fawning pleasures... The Mmmm, the Aaaah, or the Ooooh... Letters that would form real words... No: nothing to be done, nothing to be said... ... A voiceless, unsmiling, soulless doll, her slits like bottomless pits, a humourless, joyless Doll... We will never see her heart or her feet, forever sealed in Carrara stone... A non-finito modern Galatea, off-putting her Pygmalion... The sculptor’s dream, his Ladies of yesteryear, his Marys full of grace and virtue, the Roses in bloom of his lost youth...
Denis Defrancesco, Stein, Marmor

Denis Defrancesco

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