French version

They send us back to the oddness of a strange being, bold headed, with a deep gaze.

On a blazing red background "he" or "she" lays hold a parcel "white linen-shroud-as a stay", holdind it tight in "her" "his" arms, the shadow of a transparent body reinforces the touching posture of the character.

These mysterious beings hide behind a flaming red costume, who stand and follow you with thier eyes and make fun, it seems, of life or themselves. The grins in the mirror, peeping less looks, like adults grown young once more, carve again their face for whimsical dialogues.The game, the gambling and freedom of being ourselves send us back to our part of shadow, to the mobility of the studied follows the turned over body, right side and back side out, who gets hold of the "book" which was read or rejected, a whole culture revisited.

Some mischievous characters, look for thier balance in an empty or built space.Bent over on high stools, isn't it a way to" exile" themselves in height? This withdrawal within oneself, so difficult in the uncomfortable position of the characters makes us smile.

The sober, elaborate nearly transparent painting, with its chalky whites, its tinted greys, lets burst out in the "mirror" series the dense velvety scarlet, so very particular to the painter.

Despite of the feint sweetness, the red remains a heart beat, theuneasiness of a contained emotion.

We cannot escape from the existential interrogation or ours, ever mixed with a light humour.

In this original and powerful universe, with a remarkable technique, the human being, in Mireille Arbellot 's work, reveals itself deeply archaic and contemporary.

"The Mislead ..."

Who are "the Mislead" painted by Mireille Arbellot?

Strange beings? Whose eyes, "full", intense are looking for each other... or are spying on you.

Before hands, in the mirrors, half hidden, playing with their grim, we stood in front of a possible inner dialogue.

Now, locked up in a closed world " cornered", here they are living their story, alone, in duet, in a group; "Knocking chairs out", speculating on mysterious situations, " birth", seeking together for a way out... In this juvenile world where mischievousness remains, the hour seems dramatic: the phasing out of this chilhood runs alongside, relates to the grown ups'one.

The sky, the surroundind are no longer blue or grey, the mist has muddled up the colours, pink stains pigment the background of a "dreamed" reality. Tenderness, still present, sheds into desire, the sights become subtle, making us partner in their unsealed gestures. Through these ambiguities, always blurred with a light humour, we do not escape from their existential questioning.

These mislead and their fictions...have theirs thoughts influenced our paths and our course?

The contrast of their intense imprint over an opalescent and delicate painting disturbs us. It is strenuous to forget about them.