Philippe Halaburda – Abstract Emotion
Written By: Michael D. McClellan | Philippe Halaburda is a busy man. The French-born, New York-based abstract artist is a conduit of emotion, absorbing the environment around him and translating it, prolifically, into works that pull and tug on our subconscious. Abstract, geometric shapes burst from his imagination, his color choices not unlike the works of the late modern master Henri Matisse, who also got his start in the South of France. There is no off switch: Halaburda’s hyper-inquisitive DNA fuels the inspiration behind his work, brilliant pieces created on a variety of mediums including canvas, paper, plexiglass, cardboard, and wood. He relentlessly explores the world around him, his iPhone at the ready, his mind ablaze with possibility. Equal parts New Age artist and old-school cartographer, Halaburda often melds these two passions, creating imaginary topographies that move the needle on an deeply emotional level. It’s all part of what makes Philippe Halaburda deliciously unique.
“Art is my love,” Halaburda says, settling into the interview. “When I am creating art, it’s important for me to have my own style. I’m not interested in doing something that has already been done.”
Like genius abstract artist Mark Rothko, who moved through many artistic styles until reaching his signature 1950s motif of soft, rectangular forms floating on a stained field of color, Halaburda has also undergone his own transformation. Several of them, actually. The purity of his abstractions and methodical practice by which he arrives at them make his work instantly recognizable, and the radically simplified elements reflect what he sees as the spiritual order underlying the visible world, creating a clear, universal aesthetic language within his canvases. While his art has been compared to the Suprematism movement of late Russian avant-garde artist Kazimir Malevich, there are also traces of the De Stijl movement championed by the Dutch master, Piet Mondrian. It’s as if both styles were fed through the blender of Halaburda’s mind until something entirely new poured out.
“For me, relationships are the foundation of everything I create. Whether I’m in the studio with brush and canvas, or I’m on the street with my iPhone, my art is connected in some way to the deep, emotional elements built into relationships – whether that is contradiction, or harmony, or something entirely different.”
Born in Meaux, France, a serious rugby accident landed Halaburda in the hospital, ending his athletic career and propelling him on a the journey to where he is today.
“I was in the hospital for two weeks,” he says. “I was sixteen at the time, and it was during this period that I started to draw. I drew comics, because I wanted to tell stories, and I discovered that I liked it. There was no stopping by this point.”
Like Andy Warhol, who was struck down with a neurological disorder which kept him off school for nearly a year, Halaburda’s recovery from a badly broken knee took six long months. Similarly, both leaned on art to pass the time.
“I continued to draw comics,” Halaburda says. “Every day I enjoyed it more. It was something my parents noticed and supported. Once they realized how passionate I was about art, they encouraged me to think about a career where I could use my creativity.”
Following graduation, Halaburda went away to study graphic design at EDTA SORNAS in Paris. He spent three years there, in a small class of 20-25 students, where his formal academic training ranged from nudes to still life to illustrations. He also started to paint during this time, first on large paper and then on canvas. And then, a year after graduation, Halaburda received the ultimate validation that he should pursue art as a career.
“In 1996, I organized my first exhibition in Paris,” Halaburda says. “There were twelve paintings in the exhibition, and I sold three of those to a young curator. Up until that point, I’d never imagined trying to become a professional artist. I was still drawing comics and doing illustrations on paper…it was not my dream to become a painter. Later I started drawing the same characters on large paper, and after that I started to paint a little bit, which led to my first exhibition. It was a fun period in my life, because I was creating art and trying to see what would happen.”
Halaburda held down an assortment of odd jobs as he continued to launch his young art career – working shifts in bars, cafés, and restaurants, all while continuing to paint. He also shared a small flat with two friends from Switzerland, one of which who returned home over the summer to work with his father. Halaburda joined him, met a girl, and suddenly found himself on the move.
“She lived in Bern, so I ended up relocating,” says Halaburda. “We were married for three years. I was still painting, but during this period my pallet changed. I was using cold colors…blues, primarily…my paintings were mostly interior scenes, and were influenced by being inside so much during the long, cold winters.”
Halaburda’s style continued to evolve during this period. While still figurative, he was no longer focused on drawing characters as he had in France. Instead, he was slowly moving toward abstract expressionism, combining shapes on the canvas, twisting and bending them into something altogether different.
“Up until this point, I had been committed to drawing figures, using black outlines to define the shapes and then filling in with color in a very traditional way. It wasn’t a conscious decision to go in a different direction. It was a very natural progression.”
Relocating to Aix-en-Provence, a university city in the South of France, Halaburda’s pallet changed yet again. His work became more pink, with a focus on brighter colors.
“I was still painting characters, even though the background was becoming more abstract. It might be a simple sketch, but you might only see the head of the character. The rest would be combined with the background in some interesting way.”
Between 2009 and 2012, Halaburda abandoned figurative painting altogether. Untethered from its restraints, he could fully immerse himself in the emotional center of his art.
“It was the final leap for me,” he says. “I had taken some time to focus on other things, such as graphic design and theatre direction. When I returned to art, it was with a renewed energy and a different perspective.”
Inspired and restless, Halaburda put on solo exhibits across Southern France – the port city of Marseille, the communes of Nailloux and Châteauneuf du Pape, the city of Avignon – but struggled to make ends meet. It was a pivotal moment, one that changed the trajectory of his life.
“I changed my website from French to English,” he says. “I had decided that I wanted to leave Southern France, and I started making plans to move to London. It felt like a natural step for me, because I wasn’t selling enough to continue working as an artist.”
As chance would have it, an art dealer in the United States landed on Halaburda’s website. Convinced that the colorful, geometric abstracts would be well-received stateside, he reached out and proposed that the artist pay a visit to Santa Fe, New Mexico. In 2013, Halaburda’s exhibit debuted at the prestigious Peyton Wright Gallery, boosting both his Q-Rating and his bottom line.
“That was a turning point for me,” Halaburda says. “I was making ten times the money for the same art that I was selling in France, so I started making plans to move to the United States. I decided that New York City was the best place for me, so in 2016 I made the leap and opened my studio on Bogart Street in Brooklyn.”
Now fully immersed in the New York art scene, and with a thriving business and dozens of shows and exhibitions under his belt, Philippe Halaburda continues to push the envelope with his art while building on his reputation as one of the city’s top abstract artists.
Matisse, Malevich and Mondrian would no doubt be proud.
What inspires you?
Since the beginning, my art has been very autobiographical. I’m telling my own story through my paintings – I try to express my subconscious thought, my memories, and my emotions. All along, I’ve been influenced by the things that surround me. When I was in Paris, I was inspired by the light, the historical backgrounds, the canals, and things like that. In Switzerland, it was the weather. When I moved to New York, my style became more chaotic, linear, and geometric. I don’t use curves anymore because I don’t see curves in the city. I am inspired by the topography and cartography. I break the grid to create my own interpretation of New York. So, inspiration comes from the places that I live. My art is a reflection of what I am feeling, and how I am interacting with the world around me.
You abandoned figurative art for abstract art.
A figure can still be present in abstract art. It might not look like a physical object, but it’s still there, distilled down to its most basic elements. It’s like zooming in and taking a closeup look at what’s inside the object; the emotions, the feelings, the life that pours out of it.
Do you ever suffer from the artist’s equivalent of writer’s block?
My creativity is like a faucet. It’s like when you go to the kitchen, turn on the water, fill up the glass, and then turn the faucet back off again. So, creativity is there for me whenever I want it. It never dries up. I’ve never had a problem in that way, because there has always been something creative that comes to me. It could be good, it could be bad, but the creativity is always there.
Do you ever suffer from burnout?
Art is something that excites me, and makes me feel like a little kid. I never suffer from stress when it comes to my art. I enjoy it. I don’t want to control it, and I don’t want to know what is going to happen. I just let it happen. I only concern myself with painting when I am in the moment. I want to surprise myself with what I create. And as long as I am having fun, and creating something positive for the people who enjoy my art, then I’m going to be happy.
Is it true that you multitask when creating your art?
Whether I’m working on paper or on canvas, I often don’t work on just one at a time. I might work on ten at a time. It’s my way of keeping things interesting, and it helps me to remain intuitive and authentic. It’s also how I push myself to the border between control and no control.
Jackson Pollack often tapped into the dark corners of his mind. Where do you go?
Living in New York, it is easy to be up and down. This city can make you bipolar. Jackson Pollack was a reclusive and volatile personality, and he struggled with alcoholism for most of his life. I don’t have these problems. I have a skill to create images every day, and I enjoy producing work that people enjoy, so I don’t have to enter into a dark place when I draw or paint.
What’s it like reading reviews about your work?
I’ve never had a critic write something grossly negative about my work but, even so, that wouldn’t bother me. I’m open to any critic, they can say anything that they want. Maybe someone doesn’t understand my art because they think my art is not easy to access, but that is something that doesn’t upset me in the least. I enjoy bringing a piece of work to life. Whatever happens after that, I can’t control.
Do you have anxiety when your work premiers at an exhibit?
No, I’m confident that the art will speak for itself. I also see the proper distance in my work – when it’s finished, and it’s hanging in a gallery or displayed at an art fair, then it’s not for me anymore. It’s for the audience.
Do you ever complete a piece of art? Or do you abandon it?
When I look back at my first exhibition in 1996 to the most recent piece of art I’ve created today, I realize that they are all connected in some way. So in that sense, the art that I create is never abandoned, but it’s never completed, either. That’s because each piece is connected to the next piece that I create.
When did you sell your first piece of art in the United States?
In 2010, I decided to take a break from painting. I started working as a designer and an art director, which is what I did for the next two years. And then, in 2012, I started to paint again. I decided to change my website from French to English, because I was trying to find galleries in France, but nothing was happening. At this time, an art dealer from Santa Fe, New Mexico, came across my website. He contacted me and said that he thought my work would do very well in the United States, so I traveled to Santa Fe to meet him. He started promoting my work to some galleries in Santa Fe, including the prestigious Peyton Wright Gallery. We quickly sold two large pieces at a very good price, which was about ten times more than I would have gotten in France.
Was there a pivotal moment when you decided to follow your path as an artist? Is there a milestone in your history that has really influenced your career?
I studied graphic design in Paris, and graduated in 1996. It was a great experience, as I received some art history and academical teachings that were very valuable. At this time in my life, I was drawing more comics and illustrations. It’s only after graduation that I started to adapt my characters on larger supports and then on canvas. I consider myself a self-taught artist. When I started to paint on canvas, I considered it as something temporary before I moved on. I never imagined that I would be doing this 25 years later.
Can you tell me about the process of making your work?
I work in a very spontaneous and instinctive way. I need that to stay focused and in motion when I paint. To keep this state of intuition highly active, I’ve discovered different ways to work: One technique is to work on different pieces at the same time. For me, it’s a good way to stay authentic and sincere during the process of creation. When I start, I don’t know what will happen. There are no sketches, only accidents, choices and risks in my painting. I like to be just in that thin border between control and losing control. My goal is to find the right visual conclusion of this process each time I do a new artwork.
Do you have a favorite photograph or painting, which inspires you? A favorite artist, perhaps?
Today, not anymore. I can appreciate works and style of other artists but I don’t have a favorite one. I loved Jean-Michel Basquiat, not only because of the work but more because of his free approach of art. When he was painting, he was totally free. It’s something I really try to keep in mind. I like different aesthetics in photos and paintings, but I don’t have a favorite one. This is likely because I don’t want to copy, or to be influenced, or to follow a certain trend. For example, when I was living in Bern, Switzerland, I discovered the art of Paul Klee. I have been influenced by him – the same with Picasso, and with Matisse in the South of France. I recognize their impact and heritage, but I never tried to follow them. I met them – in a symbolic way – because I was following my own path.
Please tell me about your outdoor murals. And, is there a bit of Banksy in Philippe Halaburda?
No, I don’t think there is some Banksy in my art. My images are less direct and probably more conceptual. I have only done three murals. I have a new concept for the coming months: Color tapes on the sidewalks, pavements, and streets of Brooklyn or Manhattan. I am looking for a new way to adapt my style to this kind of urban environment, and I think this is one that can fit perfectly to my visual universe.
Your style is distinctive – strong, colorful abstract shapes filled with emotion – uniquely Halaburda. Have you ever thought about translating your art in the world of fashion?
I’ve never directly thought about that, to be honest. I know my art can be used for a lot of commercial purposes; fashion is one of them. I’ve never had the opportunities, I suppose, and that explains why it didn’t really happen. But it’s something I would really like to do. I can imagine creating a complete graphic and visual universe for a new collection, for example.
Your work unlocks geometric patterns, breathing refreshingly new life into such unglamorous subject matter as conduit, pipes and cables. Could you see yourself as an architect in another life?
Yes absolutely! I think I would be a very intuitive architect, and I would enjoy breaking architectural codes and rules that are followed today.
Tell me about your relationship with architecture, and how deep that relationship goes in your work?
My relationship with architecture is unconscious, because even if I like a certain type of architecture – modern, pure, elegant and graphic, for example – I never really had interest to study it. For me, I am attracted by the visual and graphic aspect of it, not the technical one. I think I realized this when I was working on the effects of architecture on human life when I came to live in New York City. Being in a big city like New York opened my eyes. It really helped help me to understand my themes as artist.
How do you view relationships in your art?
For me, relationships with others are probably the most important source of inspiration in art. How we interact all together, how I can feel apart or excluded from the world as human, as an artist. I probably have more sensitive approach than most anyone else, and I feel the necessity to express that. I need to. After more than twenty years of practice as artist, I can say it’s a way to accept who I am and what I want to bring to this world. What does that mean today, living in a time like our modern and crazy world? What are the true values of unconscious connections, the ones that not only make all of us unique, but also bring us all together? How I translate all these psychological aspects in my art, that is the real challenge.
New York in the 1950s witnessed an explosion in abstract expressionism. Now that you live in New York, what is your take on some of the great art created during this time period? And do you see yourself at the forefront of a modern day abstract movement – New York Abstract Expressionism 2.0?
Yes. Prior to the ‘50s there were a lot of European painters who came to the United States, many of them because of the events in Europe. I think they influenced the American painters who were living here. I think that art today has no more borders. Art has cultural roots, but as an artist, I feel – because I came to New York City – that I belong to the lineage of this art history in a way. I hope my art has a lasting artistic value – time will either confirm it or not. For the moment, it’s hard to think about because I am living it. My style is different from the art courants, but I feel I am part of global art history. I am also a very independent artist. I don’t belong to a group of artists. Today, being an artist is probably more of an individual process than the collective approach it was a few decades ago. So, if I can be the one who represents the New York Abstract Expressionism 2.0, I will be flattered.
How did growing up in France shape your artistic sensibilities?
I think in France, we have a very strong connection to history, art, literature. Of course, not everyone is like that. My family is not really into it, but because I followed graphic studies, literature, etc., it definitely impacts my own sensibility.
What have been your most exciting and challenging artistic commissions, and why?
My first commission in New York City was in July 2016. It was a black-and-white mural on the backyard wall of an art residency in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It was quite a big one and it took me so much more time than expected to finish it, mainly because of the hot, humid weather, the bad quality of the wall, etc. At the same time, I working on another commission for a hotel in the Bahamas. It was a huge canvas in three parts. It was funny, because this project had the same deadline as the outdoor mural.
Are there young artists that you follow these days or feel a particular connection with?
To be honest, not really. With Instagram, I receive a lot of contacts from young artists who wants to get in touch or share their work with me. I am still on my very own and personal path because I don’t feel established enough as artist. I am still very far from that. And it’s probably good because it pushes me to stay active and renew myself. It’s also a way to realize that my art is seen, appreciated and respected by other artists. It’s funny because, I was the one who were contacting older artists 20, 25 years ago and now, it’s my turn to be approached by younger ones.
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