Michel BIOT (1936-2020) "Spring morning in... Lot 1

Michel BIOT (1936-2020) "Spring morning in Brittany". 2012 Oil on Arche paper mounted on wood, signed and dated lower right, titled on back 24x33 cm Born on 10.5.1936 in Lyon, died in Paris on 24.4.2020 Like Theodore Monod, he is a primordial being to reveal the whole chain of the original elements, indeed, Michel Biot is a beautiful painter "naturalist, bio(t)logist, a researcher, an explorer, in short... a lover of the planet earth". He has been drawing since the age of eight. He followed the lectures of the art critic René Deroudiille, at the Minotaure workshop in Lyon. At the age of eighteen, he voluntarily left to cross the sea, in the desert, to offer himself the salutary experience of his life. He came out of it deeply moved. Then consecration, he exhibited in Lyon at Janine Bressy's (gallery l'Oeil Ecoute, in 1964), and later, in 1984, benefited from a rare preface by René Julian, then curator of the second largest museum in France, the Palais Saint-Pierre in Lyon. His painting invariably takes on the task of translating the beauty of the nocturnal and celestial, oceanic and aquatic, desert and nomadic elements, especially when the elements are unleashed, then calmed, in accordance with the whims of the weather. He puts his nose into organic matter. Nothing is beautiful enough to express his creative power. In 1986, at the Dijon Museum, he was chosen to be part of the Granville donation, which marked a real turning point in his career, with museum recognition. He obtained public commissions (Fresnes school, Rodez polyclinic, Saint-Luc school in Paris, etc.). He is supported by the greatest writers Bernard Dorival, Patrick Collet, Jacques Dopagne, Marcel Brion (of the Académie Française), Jean-Jacques Lerrant, then bg in the Progrès, Lydia Harambourg (the Gazette Drouot), and above all the poet-novelist, Anne Tiddis (whom he will marry), and who will accompany him throughout his life, until the final hour in order to join the sky, which will be cleared of the violence of the very last clouds... BG