Born in 1950.
Lives and works in Paris.

Miller Lévy - clithographs
Miller Levy has a twinkle in his eye, nimble hands, and a pronounced taste for things of the mind, which for more than thirty years he has put his talents toward depicting. With profound logic and supreme irony—the two ends of the balance pole that keep him on a tightrope between words and images, high above the yawning chasm of existence—he refers to himself as a variety artist. This unassuming banner, which he can make flap or snap any way the winds of creation blow (drawing, painting, sculpture, installations, writing, video), is what he claims legitimizes his artistic dabblings. But let there be no mistake: varied though they may be, every one of his creations is marked by a consistent approach, which we can define as a rigorous and salutary attempt to air out reality. Tormented by the question of juxtapositions – whether juxtapositions of ideas or the physical proximity of bodies (with all the joyous couplings their intermingling offers us) – Levy often gets wandering hands when he picks up his pencil: a pencil whose (erotic) point is good and sharp, and that he likes to dip into the murky waters of a fanaticism older than the hills. How wonderful it would be if men and women fit, as if drawn together. By flooding our eyes, the artist refreshes our memory. An unsolved mystery hangs over sexual relations and constantly inserts itself between bodies, in the fantasies in which we (un)drape them and the chinks in our private thoughts about them. So while our attempts to equalize relations between the sexes are doomed from the start, in this subtle eroticism our eyes still find something to ease their soreness. An erotics of vision as consoling balm?

François de Coninck
(translation : Mark Polizzotti)