Painting was therefore language: Intermediality in Elsa Gribinski

Elsa Gribinski writes short stories by her own admission because she writes concisely and densely. This earned her a place on the shortlist for the Prix Goncourt de la Nouvelle in 2024. The sixteen texts she submitted to Toiles: nouvelles (Mercure de France, 2024) are particularly interesting from an intermedial perspective: Each fictional work, or “canvas,” explores painting within an aesthetic context, often in everyday life, “in the apparent banality of days, their strangeness, in anecdotes and dreams, in chance, in reality, in moments of love and moments of drifting, also in irony, sometimes in madness, in opacity and transparency” (from the publisher's announcement). Elsa Gribinski employs a specific artistic and intermedial approach for each story, linked to the narrative's theme and aesthetics. The balance between inner and outer spaces, between deceptively realistic perception and symbolic abstraction, is striking.

Everyday life and Arte Povera

The first story, "ARTY (Des images, extérieures, intérieures)" (ARTY (Outside Images, Inside Images)), plays with the idea of ​​resemblance and the perception of images. It centers on the observation of a woman who—in a seemingly banal yet intense moment—has boarded a bus. Her appearance, her behavior (such as hastily eating food from a reused plastic bag), and even small details, like her recollections of past times or other figures, are described in rich detail. The narrative not only depicts the external events but also opens up the narrator's inner associations, which are reflected in memories and reflections. The opening of the text ("I keep finding similarities—a game of pigeonholing." – "Je ne cesse de trouver des ressemblances – un jeu de tiroirs.") makes it clear that the narrator is weaving together a multitude of images. A play of associations emerges: the external world (the real scene on the bus, the urban bustle) blends with inner images, memories, and subjective impressions. This alternation between the visible and the imaginary shapes the narrative.

In Gribinski's story "Blues'omatic," an everyday scene takes center stage: A laundress discusses the stains on a man's clothes with him. What initially appears to be a simple interaction about colors and cleanliness unfolds into a discursive game about perception, language, and art. The dialogue is interwoven with allusions to physics, painting, film, and color theory. The relationship between the two characters remains ambivalent—oscillating between admiration, irony, and latent tension. The story plays with the perception of color. The man refers to Vermeer's paintings. The milk girlThe film compares the laundress's posture to that of the milkmaid, drawing a connection between her profession and the color white. White is considered not only as a color, but as a concept—representing purity, but also as a projection surface that absorbs meaning. In addition to Vermeer, works by Jean-Luc Godard are cited as references. The female figure resembles a protagonist from a Nouvelle Vague film, whose facial expressions and gestures can be interpreted within a cinematic context. This reinforces the idea that the visual and the linguistic overlap in the narrative. Gribinski employs a linguistic play on colors and their names. The dialogues are concise, pointed, and often imbued with ironic undertones. A tension arises between the banal (stain removal) and the artistic (art appreciation, color theory), and thus "Blues'omatic" connects everyday language with reflections on art theory.

The story “Un doigt de bleu – (Arte povera, Intérieur)” takes place in an interior space that conveys an intimate, almost meditative atmosphere. The scene is characterized by a quiet, almost silent observation of a minimal yet significant detail: a small blue mark – “un doigt de bleu” (literally: “a finger's width of blue”). This splash of color, appearing on an object, a wall, or skin, becomes the poetic starting point for a reflection on perception, materiality, and aesthetic experience. The protagonist focuses on the small detail of the blue trace. In a seemingly insignificant detail, the character discovers a whole world of possibilities, associations, and meanings. The blue hue can evoke the sky, the sea, or pigments from painting – or simply stand as a random mark in an everyday scene. In keeping with the principles of Arte Povera, the story directs its attention to the simple, the accidental, that which is often overlooked. Instead of describing grand, elaborately staged scenes, the text focuses on the fragmentary, the raw—a small touch of color that, in itself, seems almost trivial, but in its isolation unfolds a powerful visual and emotional effect. Besides the color itself, texture also plays a role. The narrative describes the nature of the material on which the blue is found: Is it rough or smooth? Is it part of a work of art or merely an accidental mark left by a touch? This sensual, almost tactile dimension intensifies the focus on the physical, on the immediate presence of the moment.

Arte Povera (Italian for "poor art") is an art movement from the 1960s that focused on simple, raw, often everyday materials. Artists like Michelangelo Pistoletto and Jannis Kounellis worked with natural materials, industrial waste, and found objects to blur the boundaries between art and life. The narrative follows this principle by placing an inconspicuous detail—a bruise—at its center. It eschews grand narrative staging and concentrates on the small, the accidental, the often overlooked. This creates a poetics of minimalism that achieves a powerful effect with reduced means. In the spirit of Arte Povera, the narrative poses the question: What is art? Must an object be consciously created as a work of art, or is it enough for the viewer to perceive it as such? The fixation on the blue mark almost automatically transforms it into an image, a miniature, an abstract composition that can be linked to the principles of modern art. The story shows that beauty and meaning don't have to lie in grand gestures or spectacular works of art, but rather in the ability to make the invisible visible. The focus on the seemingly insignificant becomes an artistic act that elevates the everyday to a poetic level.

“Un doigt de bleu – (Arte Povera, Intérieur)” is a narrative that achieves a meditative depth through its focus on a minimal, accidental detail. Thematically, the text describes the perception of a small blue paint smudge, making it the center of a contemplative experience. The gaze upon the seemingly insignificant becomes a moment of artistic insight. Intermedially, the narrative connects with the aesthetics of Arte Povera: by focusing on simplicity, materiality, and the raw, seemingly random, the text succeeds in recreating an art form that defies the conventional definition of art. The text invites the reader to look at the small, the overlooked, and the everyday with fresh eyes. By making a single detail – a “finger's breadth of blue” – the starting point for a reflection on perception, art, and materiality, it invites the reader to become aware of the beauty of the inconspicuous. In summary, "Un doigt de bleu – (Arte Povera, Intérieur)" is a narrative that translates the principles of Arte Povera into literary form. It shows that art is not only found in museums or on canvases, but also in the accidental traces of everyday life – if one only looks closely enough.

Towels: Catalogue of Intermediality

Arty (Des images, exteriors, interiors) – vivid overlays that shift between external and internal perception. The author describes an everyday scene that evokes a series of visual and symbolic correspondences – a true game of associations.

Le grand pan de mur noir (Anamorphosis, Extérieur) Anamorphosis plays with perspective and distortion to create an altered perception. The anamorphic narrative style of this text is particularly evident in the way perception, reflection, and projection merge and distort.

Autoportrait (Conversation piece, Interior) The "conversation piece" style refers to scenes that emphasize a narrative element in art, a group portrait showing people interacting. The story uses this format to reflect on the artist's self-image and self-reflection. The intermediality lies in the linguistic imitation of an image: the dialogue itself becomes a portrait by staging the figures.

Tain d'automne (A tempera, exterior) Tempera painting emphasizes vibrant colors and a richly detailed surface. The story uses this technique symbolically for memories that remain vivid despite the passage of time. The rain, which blurs the image, contrasts with the permanence of the tempera paints—an intermedial dialogue between painting and narration.

Renaissance (announcement, exterior) – An allusion to the classical Annunciation motif, which mediates between divine and secular reality. The story takes up the motif of the Annunciation, but in a modern, ironic way. It questions the divine inspiration of the Renaissance masters and applies it to everyday experience. The intermediality arises from the engagement with religious art and its influence on personal life choices.

Jouy (trompe-l'œil, exterior) – Deceptively realistic depictions that play with the boundary between reality and illusion. The "Toile de Jouy" is a fabric with narrative, often rural scenes. The story plays with the idea that an image can be both an illusion and a story. The main character searches for a fabric pattern that is supposed to tell a story – and in doing so realizes that their own perception is already a trompe-l'œil.

À l'angle droit de son regard (Still life, Interior) – a still life that carries symbolic meaning for transience or contemplation. It depicts seemingly inanimate objects, often with vanitas symbolism. The narrative transforms the protagonist's gaze into a still life: the remains of a meal, the light on an orange – everything becomes a painting in language.

Macula (Fresque, Extérieur) The fresco technique connects image with architecture and suggests permanence. The image is inextricably linked to the wall—it becomes part of the architecture. The story utilizes this principle by creating a scene that cannot be separated from its surroundings. It explores the connection between space, memory, and narration, with the narrative itself being firmly anchored in the external world, much like a fresco.

Masterpiece (Work in progress, Interior) The concept of "work in progress" highlights the incompleteness of a work of art. The story reflects on creative processes and how works are created. It also questions its own narrative: Is a story ever truly "finished"?

Un doigt de bleu (Arte povera, Interior) Arte Povera emphasizes the materiality and simplicity of art, using simple materials and questioning the concept of art. The story applies this principle to the lives of its characters: they show how art arises from the everyday. It's about the poetry of the ordinary and the possibility of gaining a new perspective on the world with minimal resources.

Autour, ou à côté (vanité, interior) Vanitas symbolism refers to transience and the cycle of life. The narrative takes up this principle by reflecting on the passage of time, memories, and the illusion of permanence. Language itself becomes a representation of vanitas here: it preserves and destroys simultaneously.

Un cheval courait (Paysage, Interior) Landscape depictions that create a poetic sense of space. Landscape painting conveys space and atmosphere. The story uses this principle to create a psychological landscape: the character's inner world is reflected in the external environment. The intermediality is evident in the fusion of description of nature and emotional state.

Bestiaire (Ombres chinoises, exterior) – Shadow play as a means of abstraction and narration. Shadow plays reduce the world to outlines and movement. The story plays with this principle by showing figures and events only in silhouette. This creates a poetic, fragmented narrative style that translates the abstraction of silhouette art into language.

Portrait des lents demains (Perspective, Interior) – Perspective constructions for manipulating the spatial effect. Perspective in painting alters how we perceive a space. The narrative utilizes this concept by shifting the characters' viewpoints and challenging the reader to adopt different perspectives. The interplay of proximity and distance is a central intermedial element.

Blues'omatic (Scène de genre, Extérieur) – Scenic depictions with everyday motifs that address social narratives. A “scène de genre” shows everyday scenes with a social message. The story adopts this principle and places it in an urban setting. As in a painting by Vermeer or Hopper, the moment is frozen, giving the everyday a deeper meaning.

Clôture – On n'y voit rien (Des images, interiors, exteriors) – Open reflection on images and perception, both in the external and internal worlds. The final story reflects on the invisibility of images and seeing itself. It questions the boundaries between inner imagination and external reality. The intermediality lies in the fact that the absence of images itself becomes an artistic principle – a kind of literary “negative space”.

Only a few of the narratives mention specific painters or paintings; often they are mere allusions, such as the black square in "Le grand pan de mur noir," the long, bird-like necks as in Modigliani's "Autoportrait," an iconographic scene like the Annunciation in "Renaissance," in "Jouy" reminiscences of textile scenes in Fragonard, but also Cubist forms in Picasso, references to Van Gogh and Rimbaud in "Masterpiece," to the depiction of flesh in Rembrandt and Francis Bacon in "Un doigt de bleu," to Goya and the shadow theater in "Bestiaire." Painting, Gribinski deduces from the Middle Ages, "was therefore language."

Canvas establishes a close connection between literary language and visual art by using different painting styles, art concepts, and specific works as reference points for her narratives.

The text “À l'angle droit de son regard” describes the arrangement of objects with meticulous detail: a pristine tablecloth, the remains of a meal, glasses, plates, and perhaps an orange or other fruit. These objects, in their stillness and apparent immutability, appear almost like frozen moments of everyday life. The subtitle “Still life, Intérieur” clearly alludes to the still life genre, which in the visual arts refers to the depiction of arranged, everyday objects. The narrative employs precise, evocative language to capture this arrangement. The detailed description of the objects—their form, color, and reflection of light—creates a visual image in the reader's mind, reminiscent of a painting. While the objects themselves remain still, the protagonist's gaze is presented as a living, moving part of the scene. The “right angle” of her gaze suggests that the individual act of seeing is not merely passive, but active and selective. This dynamic, subjective perspective contrasts with the static order of the objects—like in a still life, where the arrangement is fixed but nevertheless dependent on the viewer's perspective. The arranged objects—be it faded fruit, a nearly perfect plate, or the interplay of light and shadow on the tablecloth—are not merely presented as utilitarian items. Rather, they acquire a symbolic dimension, evoking both the transience and the beauty of the everyday. The narrative "paints" with words, highlighting individual details and thus constructing a scene whose aesthetic resembles a painting. Each description functions like a brushstroke, contributing to the overall composition and allowing the reader to visualize the arrangement as a physical object.

The title "Masterpiece" initially alludes to the ideal of a finished masterpiece, but this is immediately qualified by the addition of "Work in progress." This tension—between the striving for completion and the awareness that true creativity never results in a static final product—forms the core of the narrative. The protagonist reflects on the ongoing process of becoming. Thoughts are raised about how a work is in flux, how it is constantly altered, corrected, and expanded. Central to this are questions such as: What does it mean to create something? Can a work of art ever truly be "finished"? The narrative emphasizes that time, as an element of the creative process, is inextricably linked to the creation of a work of art. Every second, every moment of inspiration, but also of doubt and revision, is valued as part of the creative journey. This leads to an almost meditative atmosphere in which the continuous process of becoming—the constant oscillation between idea and expression—takes center stage. The story "Masterpiece" takes place in a private, enclosed interior space, which can be interpreted as a studio or a place of retreat. Here, the protagonist—or a narrator—is immersed in their own creative process. The space is characterized by a certain disorder, but also by clear traces of artistic activity: remnants of sketches, half-finished compositions, scattered tools, and splashes of paint indicate that an intense process of creative development is taking place. The language of the text is deliberately painterly and dynamic. Descriptions of fluid transitions, shifting details, and the interplay of light and shadow in the reader's imagination are like brushstrokes on a canvas. Thus, the protagonist's inner monologue becomes a kind of living sketch, illustrating the incomplete state of a "masterpiece"—both literally and figuratively.

The narrative "Macula" unfolds in an outdoor, public space dominated by the presence of a monumental, almost architecturally significant section of wall. This wall is presented as a living "fresco"—a large image integrated into the building's structure, marked by the ravages of time and nature. The term "Macula" (Latin for "spot" or "blemish") alludes both to the imperfections that accumulate on its surface over time and to the inevitable interplay of beauty and transience. The protagonist's gaze is fixed upon this wall, its surface scarred by weathering, aging, and repeated layers of paint. The description of the wall reveals layers—old plaster, faded colors, and more recent coats of paint—that engage in a dialogue with one another. The irregular stains, cracks, and color variations act like etched memories. Without speaking, the wall tells of past moments, of lived history, and of the traces of human creation. This visual memory evokes a certain melancholy in the viewer, symbolizing the constant passage of time. Since the narrative is explicitly situated outdoors ("Extérieur"), the wall is not presented as a purely isolated art object, but rather as an integral part of the urban environment. The public nature of this space lends the scene an additional dimension: the wall bears witness to the constant coming and going, the changing light conditions, and everyday urban life. In terms of content, the narrative shows how history and memory manifest themselves in the physical condition of a building. The wall, its surface crisscrossed with irregular stains and cracks, silently recounts past events and the traces of human activity. Intermedially, the narrative becomes a literary fresco: language acts like paint on plaster, layering impressions, painting details, and thus creating a visual image that is both static and mutable. The technique of fresco becomes a symbol for the interplay of art, architecture and time – an interplay that highlights imperfection and transience, yet reveals a lasting beauty.

This research Canvas The book uniquely explores the connection between language and visual art. The narratives grapple with perception, artistic representation, and the fleeting nature of impressions. Each story not only employs a specific painting technique but also translates it into a literary form, allowing the book to be read as an intermedial experiment. The title Canvas (French for "canvases") refers to the central motif of the book: Each story is like an independent canvas on which linguistic images are created. But the term canvas It means not only "painting" but also "net," "fabric," and "text." The canvas is also a medium of fixation and illusion: it captures a moment that is fleeting in the real world and simultaneously creates a representation that is not identical with reality. This tension between permanence and transience, between illusion and reality, is a central theme of the work.

You can't see anything.

The literary relevance of Canvas The strength lies in its intermedial structure: each story demonstrates that language is not only a narrative but also a visual medium. Gribinski uses descriptions, compositions, and linguistic techniques to mimic the effect of painting. This creates a kind of "linguistic painting" that unfolds on the canvas of the reader's imagination. The narratives adapt artistic techniques such as anamorphosis, trompe-l'œil, and fresco painting into narrative strategies. Shifts in perspective, blurring, meticulous detail, and the interplay of colors are translated into language, so that each narrative is not only a story but also an aesthetic experiment. Many of the stories address the fragility and subjectivity of seeing. The gaze, perspective, and illusion are recurring motifs that suggest that both art and literature do not depict reality but construct realities. Canvas This shows that in art there is always a tension between the visible and the invisible. In "Clôture – On n'y voit rien" this is made explicit: some things elude direct perception, and likewise literature cannot capture everything in language. This reflection on what can be said is reminiscent of the philosophical discourse on the limits of language (for example, in Wittgenstein). Gribinski succeeds with Canvas A literary approach to painting that goes beyond a mere description of art. The book demonstrates that literature and visual art are not isolated media, but rather mutually influence and challenge one another. From a literary studies perspective, it offers Canvas A case study of intermedial narrative strategies: It shows how literary texts can mimic painterly techniques and demonstrates that literature enables an aesthetic experience not only through its history but also through its formal design – much like a painting. Canvas It is therefore not just a collection of stories, but a manifesto for seeing, writing and perceiving as creative acts.

The story “Le grand pan de mur noir – (Anamorphose, Extérieur)” takes place in an urban space, in a location that appears both public and intimate – for example, in or near a café, where light and shadow are staged on facades, partitions, or in the passageways of the city. The central focus is on a striking, dark section of wall, the “grand pan de mur noir”. This area dominates the protagonist's perception and becomes the starting point for his mental wanderings. The protagonist notices a woman engrossed in a book. As he watches her, his thoughts and associations wander. He notices how light and shadow move across the section of wall, how the surroundings – including a passing dog – are in constant change. The seemingly monotonous, dark wall becomes the carrier of a multi-layered image: it is both empty and yet rich in hidden meanings that unfold in the interplay of light, shadow and the fleeting moment. The narrator of the second story tries to interpret the world, but the image remains fleeting and changeable, much like a baroque trompe-l'œil. The story “Le grand pan de mur noir – (Anamorphose, Extérieur)” explores perceptual effects and intermediality between painting, photography and literature. The title already refers to two central concepts: the “large black section of wall” as a visual motif and the “anamorphosis” as a perceptual illusion or distorted representation that only makes sense from a certain perspective. The seemingly homogeneous, black wall reveals – upon closer inspection and from a certain angle – hidden details and meanings. This illusion is symbolic of the unreliability of sight: what appears at first glance to be emptiness, upon closer inspection reveals complex structures. The story describes an external view – an urban or architectural image that defies direct interpretation. The black section of the wall can be understood as a projection surface for associations, as a place where reality and imagination overlap. Anamorphosis as an artistic technique reinforces this ambiguity: What initially appears as an abstract, incomprehensible image can change depending on the viewing angle or reveal a hidden meaning. In historical terms, this means that reality and perception are unstable. This idea is also reflected on the narrative level. The text plays with various media references by addressing not only visual perception but also the linguistic description of this perception. This creates a tension between direct experience and artistic mediation. The intermediality is particularly evident in the way the story incorporates photographic and painterly techniques: it evokes the image of a wall as a potential canvas on which meanings overlap and shift. In a broader sense, the black section of wall could also serve as a metaphor for the unknown or the unspoken – a surface waiting to be interpreted or redesigned. By referring to anamorphosis, the text suggests that meaning is always perspectival and depends on the position of the viewer.

The anamorphic arises from several interlocking elements: a liquefying perspective, an ambivalent appearance, a blending of dream and reality, an intermingling of image and language, and finally the impossibility of a clear reality: the protagonist's perception is unstable, between objective observation and subjective projection. The world around him is not a static space, but a constantly changing picture. Figures and objects lose their contours, dissolve into the background, or blend seamlessly into one another. The young woman is both an individual and an idea, a painting, a projection of his own thoughts. The wall surface becomes a projection surface for his consciousness, which gets lost in it. Colors and shapes change depending on perspective, light, and reflection. Black is not really black, orange seems to transfer to skin tones, the shadow of a figure becomes an independent entity. The text directly addresses this play with optical illusions ("Black was not black, just as blue was not blue"). The world is like a painted canvas, on which traces of earlier states shine through, as if reality were a palimpsest. – The motif of the endless fall, which appears repeatedly, suggests a dreamlike state. The motif of absence is also central: The woman doesn't seem to really exist, nor does the dog, which keeps appearing and disappearing. Reality here is not stable, but a fleeting construct that is constantly reshaped in an interplay between seeing and imagining. – The text reflects itself as a picture within a picture, as a “Picture, as a fiction factory”. He not only refers to painting, but also stages himself as such an anamorphic construct: What initially appears to be a linear narrative gradually becomes a surface in which meanings overlap, shift, and dissolve. Language itself becomes a canvas, a condensation of layers of perception. The narrator tries to bring order to his perception, but everything remains fleeting. He searches for logical connections, but the images do not obey a rational structure, but rather chance, association, and subjective distortion. The world no longer appears as an objective given, but as a system of reflections and refractions that defies any fixed interpretation. – Overall, the text creates an anamorphic narrative style by constantly shifting between seeing and imagining, reality and fiction, the outside world and the inside world. Perception never remains stable, but transforms with each new perspective – just like in an anamorphic image, which only takes on a coherent form from a specific viewpoint. Similar to an anamorphic painting, in which different image planes are superimposed, the text layers external observations with internal associations. The protagonist arranges details – the disappearance of a dog, the fleeting appearance of a reader, the effect of darkness – into a complex picture that only unfolds its full meaning in the interplay of all elements. The language plays with the tension between what is visible and what remains hidden. The apparent emptiness of the "mur noir" becomes a carrier for hidden contents that only become recognizable under a certain light (both literally and metaphorically).

In Gribinski's concluding text, "Clôture: on n'y voit rien" ("One sees nothing"), a mysterious story unfolds, revolving around the perception of art and reality. The protagonist, a painter, is drawn to a mysterious canvas that inexplicably seems to influence his own destiny. As he works to perfect the painting, the boundaries between his own existence and the depicted scene blur. He becomes increasingly lost in the world of art, until the painting is no longer merely a mirror, but a reality that takes on a life of its own. In the end, it remains unclear whether the protagonist disappears into his art or whether he can ever truly break free from it. The canvas in the story is not simply an object within the narrative, but assumes a narrative function. It determines the protagonist's fate and represents a medium through which reality is altered. The narrative structure creates a mise en abyme, a layering of layers, in that the painting within the narrative constructs a reality that, in turn, affects the world being narrated. This is a typical intermedial approach, in which different media reflect each other. The text explores the effect of images on the viewer and addresses questions of art theory. Painting serves as a mirror of reality, but also as an independent, transformative force. The narrative style employs vivid descriptions reminiscent of painting techniques, such as chiaroscuro or the detailed rendering of color compositions.

The final title, “On n'y voit rien,” from Elsa Gribinski’s collection of stories Canvas The text can be interpreted on several levels. The scene in which a museum guide himself becomes an obstacle to viewing the artwork can be understood as a critique of institutionalized art education. Instead of opening the view, authorities or the system itself obstruct perception. However, the title refers more fundamentally to a situation of concealment, in which seeing becomes difficult or impossible. The final section of the text describes a scene in which people gather in front of a work of art, but their very presence blocks the view of it. This could be understood as a metaphor for the way we often perceive art, reality, or truth only incompletely or in a distorted way. The motif of "not seeing" is connected to reflections on art history, particularly Mannerism (Pontormo, Bronzino) and the development of painting. The idea that art can contribute to both revelation and concealment is addressed here ironically. The subtitle The images, interiors, exteriors It emphasizes the tension between external and internal images. "One sees nothing" could suggest that what is crucial is not what is visible, but rather what takes place in the imagination or what must be deduced through interpretation.