As a child, I was fascinated by the character of Tarzan. He was the friend of the great animals of the primeval forest; He protected them, and they also defended him against his enemies. He was handsome, strong, brave, and fearless; Above all, he had a heart and he fought the wicked. I dreamed of being like him one day.

I've been hearing about these beautiful wild animals on the verge of extinction for so long now, that my heart aches when I think of them.What can I do to help them, I've often wondered. This question has plagued me for a long time. She was alive inside me; It has imbued me intimately and lastingly for so many years, plunging me into a feeling of profound helplessness.
Then one day, not long ago, out of this interminable latency, the answer emerged, luminous, obvious, irrefutable, definitive: I was going to recreate them with my means, to help the public to be more aware of this drama that concerns us all: the sixth extinction (the fifth having been, sixty-five million years ago, fatal to the dinosaurs.
Yes, I was going to paint them, and the strength of my love galvanizing it, my modest talent, would, I venture to hope, magnify this sacred struggle and lead hearts in a vast movement which can only increase and which I am convinced will inevitably lead to a situation more favorable to the fate of my friends (and incidentally, as predicted by well-informed people, in our own right).It is accepted in competent circles that the awakening of the human consciousness, which has led us from the savage state to what we have now become, has corresponded, everywhere, with the necessity for man to express himself by means of representations of an artistic nature. For tens of thousands of years, all over the planet,Man illustrates, on the walls of caves, representations of large animals. I even heard a specialist say on the radio that he thought that these animal drawings made by our distant ancestors, by their omnipresence in time and space, had certainly ended up integrating our genes and had become a vital as well as a mystical necessity for human beings. And so, for more than sixty thousand years,We expressed our creativity through animal representations. It is only in the last few thousand years that man has ventured into other themes (in terms of time, a very small parenthesis).

Moreover, for a long time, I had been wondering about the true nature of painting.It seemed to me that each painting was a window to a world other than the one in which it was hung. My impression was that each time, it was an invitation to escape from the place where we were.
Like a dream replacing the present reality.Fine, but wasn't there a possibility of doing the opposite? Instead of mentally fleeing from the space in which we find ourselves, isn't there a way to exalt it, to charge it with a more meaningful meaning?

With my "farts", I feel like I'm working in this direction. The room in which he finds himself becomes my pet's territory. He's going to defend it against any intruder. These two elements, which are completely foreign in nature, then enter into symbiosis. By old atavistic reflexes, we have been accustomed to dread the big cats. But if we manage to establish a climate of trust with them – like Mooglie with the wolves or Tarzan with the apes – then we will overcome the old ancestral fears, we will no longer consider the other in terms of prey-predator, and brightly, a new day dawns.

Between the wild beast that comes out of my hands and its master will be created a relationship of intimacy and, I hope, of affection that will grow with it time, as is the case with old and loyal friendships.

Michel Vu