Scène de rue (2012) Painting by Christian Battini

Acrylic on Linen Canvas, 35.8x45.7 in
$1,531.44
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Fine art paper, 8x10 in

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Art image bank
One of a kind
Certificate of Authenticity included
This artwork appears in 2 collections
  • Original Artwork (One Of A Kind) Painting, Acrylic / Oil on Linen Canvas
  • Dimensions Height 35.8in, Width 45.7in
  • Framing This artwork is not framed
  • Categories Paintings under $5,000
. Dés potron-minet. Aux premières blancheurs de l'aube, Morphée me délaisse. Je quitte doucement cette agréable torpeur. Ce matin, la maison est calme. Une luminosité étrange enveloppe la chambre. Je savoure encore cette indolence quelques instants. De temps à autre, on discerne une mélodie évanescente. C'est la radio du voisin du dessus, peut être [...]
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Dés potron-minet..
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Aux premières blancheurs de l'aube, Morphée me délaisse. Je quitte doucement cette agréable torpeur. Ce matin, la maison est calme. Une luminosité étrange enveloppe la chambre. Je savoure encore cette indolence quelques instants..
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De temps à autre, on discerne une mélodie évanescente. C'est la radio du voisin du dessus, peut être du dessous où d’à coté? Qu'importe ! les murs de la pièce la font disparaître bon gré mal gré. .
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Nos deux corps nus à moitiés couverts, encore chauds de la lutte singulière menée la veille, sont allongés, côte à côte sur ce lit trop petit. Un bref silence de cathédrale immortalise cet instant..
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Allongée sur le dos, ta tète sur l‘oreiller, tu dors profondément. Tu es aux confins de terres inconnues, de paysages insondables. Doucement je t'entoure de mes bras. Je t'embrasse le sein. La fenêtre entre ouverte laisse passer une douce brise. Je n'ai qu'une envie, me coller contre toi et goûter à ta peau. Ta douce respiration mesure le temps. Soudain tu trembles. Tu remontes les couvertures jusqu'à ton visage et tu te tournes..
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De nouveau le tumulte! C 'est ignoble! Le transistor distille une musique en gouttelettes harmonieuses qui secoue la quiétude de l'endroit divin.
Je baille. Je me lève, sors de la chambre..
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Secret de l'aube, je garde en moi une cicatrice qui ne se refermera jamais. Cette blessure est si profonde, tant de regrets, tant de questions, tant d'injustice.
Heureusement Tu es là..
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Je vais dans la cuisine et regarde à la fenêtre. Il fait beau.
L'aube s'éveille sur Croissy..
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C'est une belle journée de printemps qui s’attelle.
Le ciel bleu azur invite à la paresse. Le soleil s'épanouit doucement comme un éclat de lumière qui s'étire..
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Je pense à toi, je te caresse à travers mes pensées avec une infinie tendresse. Nos sentiments nous transportent souvent du banale à l’extraordinaire. Comment puis-je t'exprimer tout ce que je ressens..
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Je me fais un café et coupe du pain..
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J’ai terminé mon errance marquée d'illusions. Tu m'as fait renaître, délaissant alcool, drogue, tous ces plaisirs chimériques, tous ces mirages..
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Par la fenêtre au loin, je vois cet horizon, toits de tuiles fauves et arbres verdoyants, inondé de soleil. La vue, sujet à la contemplation, est curieuse. C'est un dégradé de couleurs sans forme, de teintes calmes et sereines, qui m’étonne sans cesse. .
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La bonne odeur du café noir envahie la cuisine, accompagnant les effluves épicées du pain grillé. Enfin, ce mélange superbement magique submerge tout l'appartement. .
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A travers la vitre, un rayon de soleil m’éblouit. Je ferme les yeux..
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Tu m'aides à tenir le coup, enfin tu me supportes... Pas facile … sûr.
Chaque jour, tu me rends fort, pour de nouveau affronter la vie. .
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Le jour s'est levé. La quiétude domine encore ce quartier pavillonnaire.
Je mords à pleine dents la tartine grillée, beurre-confiture-d'orange-amère. Je dévore goulûment cette câlinerie bénie des dieux.
L'immeuble somnole. J'ouvre la baie. Il fait beau. .
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Dans le jardin du voisin, la cime du marronnier en fleurs est caressée par le vent. Un chien vient pisser sur son portail. Plus loin, du linge pend sur un fil. Sur un mur de briques ocres, c'est un énorme graffitis vengeur en lettres capitales. .
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Je hume l'air. Une sensation douce et agréable m'envahit..
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Tu as raison, Notre jardin secret est empli d'émotions, de tendresse, de rêves indicibles. Nous laissons simplement traîner nos histoires, juste à portée de nos cœurs..
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Je reprends un café.... sans pain. .
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Une coccinelle, comme égarée, se pose lourdement dans le bac à fleurs sur la terre craquelée, prés des vestiges d'un géranium.
Ce putain de transistor... sa musique est insupportable....J'ai besoin de paix.
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A notre première rencontre, Il faisait froid. Il avait plut. Rien ne prédisait que nous allions nous revoir..
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Je me hasarde dans le salon. .
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Tiens les voisins sont levés.... La cité se réveille.....
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Je prête l’oreille. Des cris d'enfants, un vélo joue avec sa sonnette, au loin, des bruits de moteurs.... L'enthousiasme des villes reprend ses droits…..Déjà....
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.Whiteness of the early dawn, Morpheus forsake me. I leave this pleasant torpor slowly. This morning, the house is quiet. A strange light envelops the room. I still savor the moments indolence .. . . . From time to time, we discern a melody evanescent. This is the radio upstairs neighbor, may be the bottom where next? Who cares! the walls of the room are away willy-nilly. . . . . .. . . Our two naked bodies covered in halves, still warm from the singular struggle carried the day, are lying side by side on the bed too small. A brief silence cathedral immortalized this moment .. . . . . . Lie on your back, your head on the pillow you sleep deeply. You're on the edge of unknown lands, landscapes unfathomable. I gently put my arms around you. I kiss the breast. Between the window open passes a breeze. I have only one desire, stick me against you and taste your skin. Your sweet breath measurement time. Suddenly you tremble. You get back the covers up to your face and you turn .. . . . . . . Again the tumult! It is horrible! The transistor exudes a harmonious music droplets that shakes the tranquility of the place divine. I yawned. I get up, leave the room .. . . . . . . . Secret of dawn, I keep me a scar that will never heal. This wound is so deep, so many regrets, so many questions, so much injustice. Fortunately you're here .. . . . . . . . I go into the kitchen and looked out the window. It's nice. Dawn wakes on Croissy .. . . . . . . . It is a beautiful spring day that splint. The blue sky invites laziness. The sun slowly blossomed as a burst of light that stretches .. . . . . . . . I think of you, I caress you through my thought with infinite tenderness. Convey our feelings often mundane to the extraordinary. How can I express what I feel .. . . . . . . . . I'm a coffee cup and bread .. . . . . . . I finished my wandering marked illusions. You made me reborn, leaving alcohol, drugs, all these pleasures chimeric these mirages .. . . . . . . Away from the window, I see the horizon, tiled roofs and green trees, beasts, flooded with sunlight. View, subject to contemplation, is curious. It is a color gradient without form, colors calm and serene, constantly amazes me. . . . . . . The aroma of black coffee invaded the kitchen, the smell accompanying spicy toast. Finally, this magical blend beautifully overwhelms the apartment. . . . . . Through the window, a beam of sunlight dazzles me. I close my eyes .. . . . . . You help me to keep going, then thou endure it ... Not easy ... sure. Every day, you make me strong to face life again. . . . . . . . The day dawned. The quiet residential area that still dominates. I bite to the fullest the bread toasted, butter-jam of orange-bitter-. I devour greedily coaxing the blessed gods. The building dozing. I open the bay. It's nice. . . . . . . . In the neighbor's garden, the top of the chestnut flower is caressed by the wind. A dog is pissing on its website. Further, the machine hangs on a thread. On a brick wall ocher is a huge graffiti Vengeful capital letters. . . . . . . I sniffed the air. A soft and pleasant over me .. . . . . You're right, Our secret garden is filled with emotion, tenderness, dreams untold. Let us just hang our stories, just within reach of our hearts .. . . . . . . I take a coffee .... without bread. . . . . . . A ladybug as lost, arises heavily in the planter on the cracked earth, near the remains of a geranium. Fucking transistor ... his music is unbearable .... I need peace. . . . . . . At our first meeting, it was cold. It had rained. Nothing predicted that we would review .. . . . . . . I ventured into the living room. . . . . . . . . . Neighbors would have risen .... The city wakes up ..... . . . . . . .. I listen. Cries of children, plays with his bicycle bell in the distance, the sound of engines .... The enthusiasm of the city reclaims its rights ..... already ....

Related themes

Peinture Sur Toile D'une Scéne De Vie À L'angle D'une Rue

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I was born in 1957 in Créteil (France). As long as I can recall, I've always drawn, painted, before my first rattle, I think it does. My father passed on his passion. He intended to become a painter (this may [...]

I was born in 1957 in Créteil (France). As long as I can recall, I've always drawn, painted, before my first rattle, I think it does.
My father passed on his passion. He intended to become a painter (this may explain it). WW2 decided otherwise and talent turned into a hobby.
The School of Plastic Arts of Choisy and workshops of Fine Arts in Paris allowed me to refine my technique.
To be honest, I saw my passion now, and I refined, I finally improves ... I hope.

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