The designer Hubert Privé strikes out by treating golf as a subject for art. In the fifteen years that he has practiced this sport, he has internalised the values of rigour, straightness and perseverance. However, he has also acquired the fundamental humility that every golfer should have towards this little mischievous, waggish ball, for which the grass is an ally, a private domain, a hideout. He knows how to play the clubs. He has tested their suppleness and strength everywhere. But he remains a stubborn individual who tries to make the little ball enter a hole that is as far away as paradise.
He consoles himself by looking around him at the beauty of nature and of the inhabitants who populate it: a duck and its ducklings, a swan gliding on the water, a deer and its fawn, a fox oblivious to people as it watches a baby coot that his mother tries to save by guiding it into the pond.
From this pursuit of the ball and the clubs that guide it, from this golfing spirit that is the honour of this sport, from this permanent obsession that makes each strike, once given, rethought, analysed, repeated two hundred times in your head, from this obsessional addiction that only nature appeases a little, Hubert Privé has made works of art of pure beauty, such as this large mobile in which the clubs are the sacred arms. But also sculptures full of humor, irony admiration… of joy, no less.
An amateur of art will see these works, firstly, as original and dynamic installations. Golfers will find it symbolic of a sport for which they have a dependence. These works could also be the foretaste of a golf course. At home, however, they could be works of art that express, in the end (which never comes), this golfing passion that is so consuming.
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