Camille Longuépée

I grew up in a family where objects were really valued because of the story they carried. My
grandfather was a passionate art collector and the house was always filled with books, paintings,
rugs, sculptures, antique pottery, and objects from Tibet, Persia or Africa. We would go for walks in
the vineyards to collect flint, we’d visit ruins... My other grandfather was an engineer and was
passionate about woodwork. He made furniture, lamps and other objects by hand.
I myself felt compelled to make things using my hands from a very early age. I started by sewing with
my mother and grandmother, who sewed her clothes on her old Singer.
At the age of 18, I went to study at the École d'Arts Appliqués Duperré in Paris, in the textile
department, and then at the École des Arts Décoratifs de Paris.
I worked as a film costume designer for ten years. While doing that, I had children and began working
on collections of knitted children's clothing (jersey and tricot). I then created my brand, Le Petit
Germain, whose identity revolved around colour, namely mustard, indigo and terracotta. At that time,
those colours weren’t very common in the world of kids'; clothing.
After a rapid worldwide expansion, the brand became too much to handle on my own, so I felt the
need to take a break.
By chance, I had the opportunity to become a baker for a year – an experience I cherished. At the
same time, I started drawing, painting and writing again. I felt an urgent need to get back to creating
things.
I had been through some tough times during the years prior, so that return to creating sorted out a lot
of things in my head. This balance is something that, to this day, I cannot do without.
Being able to work with raw materials and colour feels like taking in air after a long period of holding
my breath; working with my hands both gives me energy and calms me at the same time.

I find it difficult not to alter my environment. I need to make the space my own, to make it welcoming,
and to express my individuality and humanity. I gradually mould all the spaces I occupy. This could be
by creating a lamp, a headboard, a bas-relief using scrap wood, a stool, a bookcase, a fresco for the
wall, or even a door. In reality, nothing holds me back – any surface is a potential canvas for me.
My workshop used to be a modern estate agency, with roughcast on the façade, dark grey tiles and a
red wall. It was an exciting challenge for me to redo everything, to lay the foundation for this new
creative space. From the plastering to the old-fashioned façade, the moulding, my own colour
scheme, the sign, the painting of the floor tiles, and the making of the furniture... I spent weeks on it!
When I’m in my workshop, I need to surround myself with my own universe and feel immersed in all
its facets, whether its the sculptures, paintings, drawings, bas-reliefs made from plaster, or the fabric
embroidery. As I work with many different media, this allows me to maintain consistency and build
connections between each piece of work and each medium, which feed off each other.

That world in which I grew up has obviously influenced me and is now intertwined with my lived
experiences, my daily life and my feelings. I find inspiration everywhere. It can come from exhibitions I
visit, art brut, medieval, modern or classical paintings, photography, architecture... but also from a
particular light, smell, sound, or from nature, which always captivates me with how perfect it is.
Colours are my primary source of wonder. When I'm walking, I often filter the colours I perceive,
isolating the dominant one before the more subtle nuances. It reminds me of a game we played as
children with yellow cars... I am constantly filled with feelings and emotions that I transpose into my
work, which I call my 'inner landscapes’ – true snapshots of my inner state.

The environment is a real concern for me, and that largely means not wasting anything. I keep
everything, and I recycle everything. I always start by using what I have around me, down to the last
bit of thread, which I incorporate into my embroidery, or the smallest scrap of wood, which I use for
bas-reliefs. I even have wool that dates back to my great-grandmother's times, from when she used to
unravel old jumpers herself.
My wooden sculptures, including the candleholder sculptures created for Sessùn, are made from
wood that I collect in the forest and then carve, turn, and combine with vintage objects such as old
pipes, pieces of reworked furniture, leather scraps, pieces of nature gathered during walks, dried
lemons, nuts, and other things.
The fabrics I use in my paintings or embroidery come from second-hand textiles which often have
imperfections, but again, I keep every last piece, which I can then reuse for curtains, bedspreads or
tablecloths. I buy the minimum amount of material needed, except perhaps for paint... but even then, I
recently used pigments I found in the attic – they still had their old labels on them and were from the
1920s!

I’m currently preparing an exhibition at the Wilo and Grove Gallery in March. I also have some interior
design projects lined up, including a large wooden table base that needs to be carved. I’m particularly
interested in these kinds of projects, such as bas-reliefs or frescoes, because they combine art and
craftsmanship, and exist as part of everyday life, contributing to people's lives. It’s also an opportunity
for me to explore new proportions and much larger formats. Working on a bigger scale is a step I am
keen to take.
I want to search for new, raw materials to work with, sourced directly from the natural world around
me, I plan to build my own ceramic kiln, and I want to keep experimenting... always.