ADAM THE OIL BARON

Over the past eight years, I've created two handmade artists' books, and now, after three months of work, I've added a third to my vertically growing pile. Making a book is an incredibly time-consuming process, especially since ideas have a habit of morphing as they evolve. Here's a quick rundown of my past creations:

2016

My first large-scale opus entitled "The devil and my artist book" was for the Irresistible Forces show at the Galerie de la Ville in Dollard-des-Ormeaux. Yes, pages 6 and 7 are crooked but that's how I see the world.

2018

During my art residency Souffle et Sifflets at Maison Félix Leclerc, I created a giant notebook inspired by Félix Leclerc's song “Le train du Nord”. This train engine and many more turkey inspired images materialized after spotting these wildfowl suspiciously lurking outside my workspace.

2024

My most recent book was born from an urge to participate in the Livres d'Artistes au portage Biennial which happened in September 2024 at Notre-Dame-du-Portage. The theme of the event, "Métissage" translates loosely as mixing or crossbreeding.

Crafting books is not something I do on a regular basis so I faced quite a few challenges throughout the process. I managed to resolve most of them but not everything turned out as I initially planned. The project involved a huge learning curve for which I am grateful. I believe in exercising the old noodle.

I was inspired by the following quote from the book As Eve Said To The Serpent by Rebecca Solnit, soft cover edition, 2001.

Humanity originated in - and lost - a garden (p. 48)...the past has become the future (p.49).

Solnit's words propelled me to reinterpret the familiar creation myth starring Adam and Eve. I tossed out the old tired version and produced a poignant parody about humanity's relentless greed for power and profit, and how that obsession is wrecking our modern-day Garden of Eden (a.k.a. Earth).

The final spark of inspiration came from a drawing I’d done years previously of a serpent wearing a hat. That dapper snake became the star of the show. I spent hours on my iPad Pro, churning out a slew of vibrant digital images. Many were sidelined for future use.

Alongside my rakish serpent, iconic apple shapes repeated and morphed throughout the book, giving the story a visual rhythm. The text, meanwhile, simmered on the back burner of my mind.

I like to work big, but the Biennial had size restrictions. Books couldn’t exceed 60 cm (23.6 inches) in any direction. To create the front and back covers, I had the local hardware store cut a large piece of thin plywood into rectangles, which I stained with watered-down acrylic paint to achieve an ancient, grimy look, like something precious unearthed from an archaeological dig. Once the base colour had dried, I used two kinds of black acrylic paint, fluid and high flow by Golden to create black spatters that looked like oil stains. A subtle nod (yes, I can do subtle) to Adam’s messy quest for oil.

The book’s final dimensions are 35.56 x 49.53 x 3.18 cm (or 14 x 19.5 x 1.3 inches), with hinged covers. I skipped putting the title on the cover—it’s buried a few pages in, like a long-lost secret waiting to be uncovered.

On the back cover, a text written on an apple shares the book’s inspiration and reason for being.

Translation of the text:

Considering the nature of myths—stories shaped and invented—I felt it was my responsibility as a contemporary artist to reinterpret an enduring biblical creation myth. My vision? 'The Serpent Wore a Hat.'

In this retelling, Eve is mostly absent. Not because she lacks importance, but to challenge the age-old blame often placed on her for their expulsion from the Garden of Eden.

Adam transforms into Adam, the Oil Baron. Why? Because history repeats itself. We are losing our planetary garden to greed, power, and short-term gains. The myth plays out again; I’m simply giving it a modern twist."

Naturally, I can't reproduce all 39 pages here, but I can introduce my starring character Adam the Oil Baron, who is literally and figuratively a snake. He slithers through apple-like terrain, wriggling his way into two apples to form his body.

Images are printed on white Epson paper, sandwiched between black pages. The text—pink on black—is mounted with double-sided archival tape. Unlike "Hybrida Flores", my self-published book from last year, this one’s entirely in French, the Biennial audience being primarily francophone.