Every single one of Ange Francois Felix’s work is witness to a truth. Cyclist, horse, fish, hangers, clothes valets, spider, every single one of those artifacts majestically emerges from chaos. Yet they are all assembled from manifold objects. Bolts, shears, tubes, springs, plow shares, blades, all those heavily rusted pieces of metal intricately fit together and give birth to perfectly harmonious forms. Their naïveté charms the eye: a fish tail becomes a moon, a knight’s lance pierces the sky. It is fortunate that AFF jealously kept them home –until now. In his house , in Altagene, their house, they had time to live together. There they became a family, a people.

Time has come for them to travel the world. Each and every one of them will carry his brothers inside, remolded as the Phenix from a mound of discarded refuse. As the Phoenix they will go shine elsewhere.

AFF’s  sculptures are born from the history of his land, of art history, harking back to Tinguely’s constructions or those of Richard Stankiewicz in the 60s. Other pieces, more abstract, impress by their force and purity. Big plates of polished iron play hide and seek with the light. Like Soulages creating with his signature black matter, AFF plays with the smooth or rough textures of his material of choice: metal.

Christine Siméone