The first “official” work in Abderrahim Yamou’s artistic career dates from 1989. The artist was thirty years old.He had been painting for several years and had even held an exhibition in a gallery but today he does not consider any work before 1989 as more than experimental since they did not yet show the perspective that defines his œuvre, even in its embryonic stage.
By travelling new paths, Yamou finds depth, chiaroscuro and forgotten glazes. The paintings present casually geometric shapes, pregnant with personal and collective memories.
On the white of the large studio’s walls the water-green shade of a clear palette dominates. Through the freshness of the recent paintings, I discover a collection of perfect aesthetic coherence. Accuracy of the drawing at the contour of a whole vision.
Painting opens its abyss in the moment that the material becomes art-universe, life, when painting is painting, where the Mercurial gesture cultivates the virtuality of ineffable meaning, transcends the scriptures, erasures, where the metaphor becomes archaic resonances of the mind.
For paint to create landscape abstractions that map the world in its multiple surfaces, such is the challenge of Yamou’s latest works. For here, an identical, yet always varied plastic disposition, seems to impose itself as a Garden of Eden, where a white figure appears at times.
Then, in 1996, the plant world takes over Yamou’s work. In a rather traditional form, with the series of .Landscapes . in which a compromise between the abstraction of his beginnings and the desire for a vegetal figuration appears to be negotiated, not without some bitterness.
Where does such a passion for the garden take its roots? What are its referential ramifications and its plastic and artistic implications?
If the artistic activity of Yamou focuses this much on the garden, it is probably because the artist himself, is carrying a garden at heart.
At first, a sensation of matter emanates from these abstract paintings: a thick layer of earth or brown sand covers the surface of the painting, which is then pounded as though sculpted. And then, little by little, a finer, freer pictorial substance emerges and figures come into view.
There is a constant in Abderrahim Yamou, one may venture to affirm, a constant that is the very nature of his desire to paint, which is acute sensitivity, his carnal attachment to matter, to the richness of its expressive potentialities.