Pol Taburet
Gun, 2025
charcoal on paper
130 x 145 cm
51 1/8 x 57 1/8 in
51 1/8 x 57 1/8 in
DO NOT SHARE TEXT BELOW! From confidential text from Pol Taburet: At the heart of the exhibition at the Schinkel Pavillon lies the legend of Papa Tonnerre, a mute figure...
DO NOT SHARE TEXT BELOW! From confidential text from Pol Taburet:
At the heart of the exhibition at the Schinkel Pavillon lies the legend of Papa Tonnerre, a mute figure burdened with the secrets of others. Without a voice, he grew up among the villagers who, trusting him, confided their darkest secrets—vices, desires, and fears. In his silence, he became the village’s confessor, and each confession imprinted itself on his body as a burden: his hands stiffened, his lips dried out, his nose became irritated, and his eyelids stuck together, slowly depriving him of appetite, smell, and sight.
Seeking release, he heard of a witch living by the river, known for her mysterious games. Determined, he sought her out and wrote on a scrap of paper: “I want to speak.” Speaking meant no longer bearing the weight of silence, no longer being the vault of others’ secrets. The witch agreed but set a challenge:
— “Bring me a bell, a trumpet, a beast-headed vial, and some pepper.”
Papa Tonnerre obeyed. He stole the bell from the village chief, the trumpet from the choir leader, and the beast-headed vial of perfume from his own wife. With the items in hand, he returned to the witch, who, in exchange, granted him speech. Before letting him go, she warned:
— “You may speak, but you must never betray.”
But his newfound voice led to his downfall. Drunk with power, he returned to the village and tried to speak to his brothers and sisters, but no one listened—he had lost his purpose. Consumed by bitterness, he gathered the villagers in the square, invoked the gods, the wind, the rain, and the storm. His rage erupted: he spat fire, vomited lightning, and unleashed upon everyone the secrets they had entrusted to him. Vices surfaced, fears exploded, hidden desires were laid bare. His revenge was absolute.
His punishment was exile. The villagers did not let his betrayal go unpunished: they turned him into a legend, a myth, a wandering ghost. Condemned to the limbo, Papa Tonnerre gained what he desired most—speech—but paid an eternal price. He was condemned to speak forever into the void, never to be heard again.
“The lithographs take up the theme of the hunt, a leitmotif of the exhibition. Driven, fleeing or fighting for their lives, the creatures between human and animal seem on the verge of collapse, trapped in the forecourt of hell. In Taburet’s words: ‘They’re stuck in some kind of theatre on earth where the gods come to play.’ The formal language, characterised by improvisation and automatism, resembles an act of liberation. Yet the images confront us with brutal states of powerlessness and inferiority. The creatures’ existence oscillates between abstraction and figuration, documenting a struggle between nightmare and reality. Their fate becomes a representation of the unrepresentable.” (Excerpt of text from Schinkel Pavillon by Jana Baumann).
This work was previously featured in the exhibitions:
Oh, si os pudiera escuchar / Oh, If Only I Could Listen, Fundación Sandretto Re Rebaudengo Madrid, Pabellón de los Hexágonos (March – April 2025)
Same description as for Papa Tonnerre’s Tales (2025, lithograph). The gun is a recurring motif in his practice. The charcoal is used to push his ideas with greater expressivity.
At the heart of the exhibition at the Schinkel Pavillon lies the legend of Papa Tonnerre, a mute figure burdened with the secrets of others. Without a voice, he grew up among the villagers who, trusting him, confided their darkest secrets—vices, desires, and fears. In his silence, he became the village’s confessor, and each confession imprinted itself on his body as a burden: his hands stiffened, his lips dried out, his nose became irritated, and his eyelids stuck together, slowly depriving him of appetite, smell, and sight.
Seeking release, he heard of a witch living by the river, known for her mysterious games. Determined, he sought her out and wrote on a scrap of paper: “I want to speak.” Speaking meant no longer bearing the weight of silence, no longer being the vault of others’ secrets. The witch agreed but set a challenge:
— “Bring me a bell, a trumpet, a beast-headed vial, and some pepper.”
Papa Tonnerre obeyed. He stole the bell from the village chief, the trumpet from the choir leader, and the beast-headed vial of perfume from his own wife. With the items in hand, he returned to the witch, who, in exchange, granted him speech. Before letting him go, she warned:
— “You may speak, but you must never betray.”
But his newfound voice led to his downfall. Drunk with power, he returned to the village and tried to speak to his brothers and sisters, but no one listened—he had lost his purpose. Consumed by bitterness, he gathered the villagers in the square, invoked the gods, the wind, the rain, and the storm. His rage erupted: he spat fire, vomited lightning, and unleashed upon everyone the secrets they had entrusted to him. Vices surfaced, fears exploded, hidden desires were laid bare. His revenge was absolute.
His punishment was exile. The villagers did not let his betrayal go unpunished: they turned him into a legend, a myth, a wandering ghost. Condemned to the limbo, Papa Tonnerre gained what he desired most—speech—but paid an eternal price. He was condemned to speak forever into the void, never to be heard again.
“The lithographs take up the theme of the hunt, a leitmotif of the exhibition. Driven, fleeing or fighting for their lives, the creatures between human and animal seem on the verge of collapse, trapped in the forecourt of hell. In Taburet’s words: ‘They’re stuck in some kind of theatre on earth where the gods come to play.’ The formal language, characterised by improvisation and automatism, resembles an act of liberation. Yet the images confront us with brutal states of powerlessness and inferiority. The creatures’ existence oscillates between abstraction and figuration, documenting a struggle between nightmare and reality. Their fate becomes a representation of the unrepresentable.” (Excerpt of text from Schinkel Pavillon by Jana Baumann).
This work was previously featured in the exhibitions:
Oh, si os pudiera escuchar / Oh, If Only I Could Listen, Fundación Sandretto Re Rebaudengo Madrid, Pabellón de los Hexágonos (March – April 2025)
Same description as for Papa Tonnerre’s Tales (2025, lithograph). The gun is a recurring motif in his practice. The charcoal is used to push his ideas with greater expressivity.