“Humans of Mallorca” visited Thomas during his Open Studios event in Palma to walk among his latest works — abstract yet human-like transfers of paint on canvas, leaning casually against the walls. He shares the space with fellow painter Nieves Guri and his partner, Marion De Racourt, who is a sculptor herself.
Where were you born?
In Paris.
Where did you study?
I first studied architecture in Paris but quit before my senior year to move to Brussels and join art school.
What made you change your mind?
In my third year of architecture, I started painting with a friend in my dorm. It was then that I realised I was more moved by the vibrancy of colour and texture than by design or volume.
Did you ever get your architecture licence?
I never did! When I discovered painting, it was too clear that it was for me. It became a passion, an obsession.
Did you paint when you were a kid?
Not really, maybe twice (laughs). But I grew up surrounded by my grandfather’s paintings. He was a painter too. Not an artist though, he was a decorative painter for churches and monuments, but I’d always been fascinated by them.
What do you like so much about painting?
It feels natural, like an extension of me. Something I identify with. Painting is a language, like writing is for you, or creating volume and sculpture is for Marion.
What technique do you use?
It’s called ‘decoupage’. I cut shapes from painted fabrics and place them on the canvas to act as stencils. Once I’ve painted over them, I remove them, creating a transfer effect. It’s a way to continuously recycle paint by re-stamping.
What was your first big break?
At the end of art school, we had an end-of-year exhibition at Kanal Pompidou, a branch of the Centre Pompidou in Brussels. This got me a lot of visibility. Around 10,000 people visited that day, and I sold about 10 to 15 paintings, which really set me off to a good start.
And after that, did you keep on selling?
No, not really. I moved to Mallorca because of Marion’s work, and then COVID hit. Four exhibitions I had lined up were cancelled, and the network I’d built with collectors in Brussels started fading away.
What did you struggle with the most during that time?
Spending months without a studio. For an artist, having a space to work, to create, is crucial. Being stuck at home feels like trying to swim in a bathtub, you know? And you also need a physical space to showcase your work.
And how did you get through it? Did someone help you?
Yes, thankfully, I made some friends who introduced me to the art scene in Mallorca. It’s easy to connect with other artists here because, since it’s not a huge community, it’s a strong one. We share contacts, ideas, opinions… and support each other. In big cities like Paris, there can be competition between groups within the larger community. Here we’re quite isolated from the rest of the world. Plus, there are a lot of people buying houses here who are interested in buying art.
Do you have a second job?
Sometimes I work as a tour guide in Palma, but I haven’t had to in a while. This year I’ve sold paintings, but it’s tough. Sometimes you can sell four paintings in a month, then nothing for two years. You have to think ahead. That’s how it is for all artists.
Do you ever question being a painter?
No. Selling or not selling doesn’t affect me all that much, honestly. I’m just happy that I get to make a bit of money. What matters to me is feeling connected to what I do, you know? That’s why I love painting, not for the recognition, but for that sense of connection. I think it’s the same for most artists. The artist’s path can be hard, but I’m really happy to be on it because it feels right. Very, very right. The rest… doesn’t matter as much.
Text by Olga Alonso
