Entering Loïc Allemand’s universe is like opening the door of a room where we are expected without however knowing what there is behind it. We are immediately stunned by a realistic look marked by melancholy, a frozen face, bathed in lassitude. Time has stopped.
In a décor of another period, men are absent, pensive and abandoned. Women seem cold, almost animal-like. Angular faces, fleshy mouths, pallid bodies, set down there, with eroticism free of any artifice. Idle.
Life according to Loïc seems full of questions, doubts, timeless moments, floating on an assumed nostalgia. His distraught works are raw and have a mastered brutality. They crystallize our view and our curiosity is aroused; we want to sit near these men, these women, these couples and listen to their lives to change how we look at our own.
Entering Loïc Allemand’s universe is like opening the door of a room and never closing it again.