Do not call her a sculptor, Simone Pheulpin does not like this feminization.
“I prefer a sculptor,”
she immediately emphasizes.
This is perhaps the only coquetry of an artist who has been tracing her furrows for fifty years and today knows what she calls her
"apotheosis"
.
2021, right on the year of his 80th birthday, offers him a monograph and an exhibition at the Museum of Decorative Arts in Paris (MAD).
As if by magic, about forty of his works have taken place in the permanent collections of the museum.
Incredible sculptures in raw cotton, which a novice eye could mistake for plaster.
They are posed there, proudly affirming their singularity in rooms stamped XVIIIth or Art Deco, particular works which never swear in the decoration, whether they are on a table set in the middle of earthenware, in front of a bust of Houdon or in the Jeanne Lanvin's apartment.
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