Some paths are not real­ly cho­sen, but they impose them­selves with obvi­ous clar­i­ty. The sto­ry of François Far­cy is one of those. Before becom­ing a painter, he worked as a trans­la­tor, inter­preter, and teacher… until a per­son­al upheaval brought him back to France, emp­ty-hand­ed but with a mind full of neces­si­ty. It was there, almost with­out real­iz­ing it, that cre­ation began to take over: first as a ther­a­peu­tic out­let, then as a lan­guage, and final­ly as a voca­tion in its own right.
Today, his artis­tic uni­verse blends intro­spec­tion, tex­ture, semi-real­ism, and frag­ments of emo­tion laid gen­tly onto the can­vas. His works speak of free­dom, mem­o­ry, tran­si­tion, loss, and rebirth. They invite us to slow down, to observe, to feel, and above all, to live in the present moment.
In this inter­view, François Far­cy reflects on his jour­ney, his inspi­ra­tions, his rit­u­als, his rela­tion­ship with mate­ri­als, the chal­lenges of con­tem­po­rary artist, and the deep sen­si­tiv­i­ty that flows through each of his cre­ations.

Interview with an Artist

François Farcy, could you tell us about your artistic journey? How did you start painting?


I start­ed about 7 years ago. Before that, I was a trans­la­tor-inter­preter and a French teacher in Spain. After my sep­a­ra­tion, I came back to France and began cre­at­ing a bit by chance. At first, I made can­dle hold­ers and drift­wood tables, then I added paint­ing, first on my cre­ations, then on small can­vas­es and busts that I sold on auc­tion sites. This ther­a­peu­tic hob­by grad­u­al­ly turned into some­thing more pro­fes­sion­al.

What inspires you most in your work?


I love explor­ing new themes and exper­i­ment­ing. My works also reflect my emo­tions, often uncon­scious­ly. Paint­ing becomes a form of intro­spec­tion, a way to under­stand myself bet­ter while cre­at­ing.

Is there a living or historical artist who has influenced your style?


I wouldn’t say one artist in par­tic­u­lar influ­enced my style, but I’m sen­si­tive to what I see. Cha­gall inspires me with his poet­ry and angels, but my main source of inspi­ra­tion remains dai­ly life, nature, light… Every­thing that a sen­si­tive per­son can per­ceive.

How would you describe your artistic style to someone discovering your work for the first time?


I do a lot of dif­fer­ent things, so I pre­fer to show rather than describe. But if I had to sum it up: semi-real­is­tic, tex­tured, some­times with a touch of sur­re­al­ism and expres­sion­ism. I play with mate­ri­als and tex­ture to bring my sub­jects to life, rang­ing from nos­tal­gia to love, mem­o­ry, or loss.

What is your creative process, from idea to completion?


Ideas come through­out the day. I think a lot before focus­ing on a piece. I’m inspired by what I feel, by my per­son­al expe­ri­ences. Some­times my can­vas­es uncon­scious­ly reveal my needs or emo­tions, like a mir­ror of my sub­con­scious.

How much space do improvisation and planning occupy in your work?


I plan very lit­tle, maybe 30%. The rest is spon­ta­neous. Even if I start with a pre­cise idea, the paint­ing often evolves into some­thing dif­fer­ent. That’s what makes the process excit­ing and sur­pris­ing.

Do you have any rituals or habits when you paint?


Yes, I often start by light­ing Japan­ese incense and strik­ing my gong. It’s a bit like open­ing and clos­ing an artis­tic por­tal, a rit­u­al to enter my cre­ative bub­ble.

How do you choose your colors and materials?


I use fair­ly dark and nat­ur­al palettes: beige, off-white, brown, Klein blue, pur­ple, green… Col­ors that reflect nature and life, far from the flu­o­res­cent shades I used before.

Is there a work that holds a special place in your heart?


Yes, “Lib­erté onirique” a blue paint­ing with a young man and birds, cre­at­ed at the end of a dif­fi­cult rela­tion­ship. And a dip­tych of angels, “Hell and Heav­en” made in Lis­bon. These works are very per­son­al and rep­re­sent impor­tant peri­ods of my life.

What technique do you prefer to use and why?

I love explor­ing, but I use a lot of tex­ture and oil paint. It allows me to rework and shape the mate­r­i­al, even if it takes time to dry. I also enjoy exper­i­ment­ing with fire to cre­ate spe­cial effects. I’m a bit of a pyro­ma­ni­ac at heart.

Do you work on several pieces at once?


Yes, I need vari­ety so I don’t get bored. Some­times sev­er­al pieces are in progress at once, some almost fin­ished but not yet var­nished or signed.

What messages or emotions do you seek to convey through your art?


My lat­est series, “Memen­to Floris” reminds us of the impor­tance of liv­ing in the present. My works con­vey Carpe Diem, grat­i­tude, and the ephemer­al beau­ty of life.

How do you react to viewers’ interpretations?


I don’t care. I find it fun­ny to stand in a cor­ner and lis­ten to peo­ple say it’s not good at all while oth­ers love it. Art is very sub­jec­tive, and I don’t try to please every­one. I have my audi­ence, sen­si­tive and atten­tive to my mes­sages, and that’s what mat­ters to me.

In your opinion, what role does art play in today’s society?


Art is essen­tial and should be taught more. It opens the mind and rais­es aware­ness. It is a ther­a­py, a means of expres­sion, and a source of joy, for one­self and oth­ers.

What are your challenges as an artist today?


Shar­ing my ideas, rais­ing aware­ness, bring­ing joy, and cre­at­ing mem­o­rable expe­ri­ences for those who dis­cov­er my work.

How do you manage the visibility of your work?


It’s com­pli­cat­ed. I’m main­ly on social media, but it’s still impor­tant to be phys­i­cal­ly present in gal­leries and shops. Tex­tured and liv­ing art is expe­ri­enced bet­ter in per­son than through a screen.

Do you have any upcoming projects or collaborations?


I’m work­ing on the “Memen­to Floris” series, a trib­ute to flow­ers and the cycle of life. It’s also a trib­ute to my grand­moth­er, who had a lot of flow­ers and even won the vil­lage award because she had made every­thing bloom, the gar­den, the house, etc. The idea is to cap­ture the ephemer­al and invite every­one to enjoy the present moment.

If you could exhibit anywhere in the world, where would you go?


Art Basel, which offers enor­mous vis­i­bil­i­ty, or a muse­um in Paris like the Musée de l’Orangerie, which has mag­nif­i­cent spaces for exhibit­ing art­works.

If you could invite a famous artist to share your studio, who would it be?


I would have loved to invite Basquiat. I’d like to talk about his jour­ney and how he nav­i­gat­ed between two worlds, from the sim­plest to the most sophis­ti­cat­ed.

Do you prefer painting at a particular time of day?


Not in the morn­ing. I start when I feel ready, often in the after­noon or ear­ly evening, in calm.

Do you have a lucky object in your studio?


Per­haps my gong and a small Bud­dha. They bring me calm and pro­tec­tion, and mark the begin­ning and end of my cre­ative ses­sions. But there’s also my lit­tle angel that I keep in my stu­dio, up high, watch­ing over me. That’s my spe­cial object.

Through­out this con­ver­sa­tion, one thing becomes obvi­ous: for François Far­cy, paint­ing is nei­ther just a pro­fes­sion nor a sim­ple aes­thet­ic ges­ture.
Each can­vas becomes an exten­sion of a thought, a mem­o­ry, an emo­tion, or an inner tran­si­tion. His art, intu­itive and tex­tured, is the expres­sion of a quest for mean­ing, bal­ance and per­son­al truth.
Between grat­i­tude, emo­tion­al explo­ration, and the desire to cap­ture the moment before it slips away, François Far­cy builds a body of work that tells the sto­ry of life’s cycles: its tri­als and joys, its end­ings and trans­for­ma­tions. And if his paint­ings res­onate for you, it may be because they car­ry some­thing rare: a raw, unfil­tered sin­cer­i­ty.
As his projects con­tin­ue to grow, espe­cial­ly through his “Memen­to Floris” series, the artist keeps mov­ing for­ward with the same sen­si­tiv­i­ty and the same vital need to cre­ate. One thing is cer­tain: His jour­ney has only just begun.