- The multi-
disciplinary artist
uses all forms
of materials as
his canvas, from
the sidewalks to
fabrics.
- Jules’ artwork
displayed on
the streets of
Beaubourg, Paris
in 2008.
- L’Atlas, aka
Jules Dedet
Granel.
- One of the
key pieces
featured at the
Geraldine Zberro
exhibition.
paper, but has been exploring
the properties of wood, steel,
marble and neon.
His use of wide-ranging
materials breaks down the
psychological barriers between
various art movements. “Neon
is to go towards pop art or Andy
Warhol; marble and shapes is
to go towards Sol LeWitt and
Frank Stella,” he states. “I’m
an artist who discusses with
others and does hybrid things,
but always with a substratum
like an archaeologist, meaning
there’s something that exists
and I’ll make an interpretation
of it. Because what is it to be an
artist? It’s to digest art history
and make it re-emerge. I’m
not going to say that I invented
something. I mix different
movements and have them
dialogue with one another like
a talk with different artists,
whether they’re sculptors
from 2,500 years ago or today’s
artists. I create an artistic
discussion within my work.”
Rocky Beginning
This mixing of worlds and
search for universality
led L’Atlas – who chose a
pseudonym that could be easily
understood in any language –
from France to Morocco, Egypt,
Syria, China and Japan to
study calligraphy, sigillography
and tai chi with masters like
Hassan Massoudy, Mounir Al
Shaarani and Zhang Aijun.
He did all that after dropping
out of university – where he
had studied art history and
archaeology – at the age of 21.
Giving up everything,
he bought a bus ticket to
travel from Toulouse to
the Atlas Mountains to live
with Moroccan calligrapher
Moulay Smail Bour-Qaiba,
thereby returning to his
roots, as his great-great-
great-grandmother was
Berber. Additionally, his two
grandfathers – Pierre Dedet,
owner of Parisian bookstore Le
Divan, and philosopher Gerard
Granel – were both publishers,
so he was surrounded by books
on art history, painting and
cinema as a child.
“I had the idea when I was
about 16 to mix calligraphy
with graffiti because at
that time, graffiti was only
influenced by the US,” he notes,
enthralled by calligraphy’s
purity of gesture and
monochromatic nature. “It was
really closed and incestuous.
I thought that we needed
some fresh blood. That’s why
I injected Arabic and Chinese
calligraphy codes. At the
beginning, I was copying
Mounir. Like everyone, you
have to copy the master, and
after you emancipate yourself,
you kill your reference.”
Rather than colourful
bubble text or figurative
characters, it was lettering
that first fascinated him –
preferably letters in black
and white.
2
3 4
