| There is no search for grace in the art of M. Pierre Girieud. I do not know much more of a conception than that of this painter. But, if there is no purer, there is none more difficult to achieve. The danger, which we pointed out last year, of the abstraction in which the lack of plasticity lent by the dreamer to the expression of his thought may fade, persists. With emotion, we witness the struggle between two opposing tendencies in this very high soul, one solicits it to the sensual splendours evidenced by the ardent bursts of these decorative flowers to which Girieud had his first successes, but the other recalls towards these taciturn spiritual lands where life vegetates in the atmosphere of the dream. |