Hélène Maroutian
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Aug 12
- 4 min read
Hélène Maroutian is a French artist currently living in Prague, with a background in theatre set design and a personal painting practice that has steadily grown alongside her work. Her paintings often begin from a feeling or a visual memory, sometimes as simple as a colour or a texture from childhood. She works in a layered and intuitive way, using vintage fabrics, wax pastels, and pigments, letting the process guide her. Joy and play are important to how she approaches the canvas, as is the physical act of making. Her works have a tactile quality, shaped by repetition and small rituals. In 2024, she opened her first solo exhibition titled “Mix Tapes,” and continues to explore painting as a space where time slows down and memory finds form.
Q: After 25 years working in film sets, what made you start telling your own stories through painting?
A: While film work is creative, the constant need to fit specific parameters can be sometimes frustrating... Even with some room for personal input, you're essentially applying someone else's ideas, fitting into their funnel. While I enjoyed inventing small details for characters' interiors, ultimately, only a small percentage of the decoration team work would ever be visible on screen. This gradually led to a desire for more creative freedom. I was already creating in my free time and during gaps between movie projects, and this naturally opened that door for me. In the studio, there's no one telling me to make something bigger, smaller, or more blue; each step of the process is entirely up to me. Being creative on my own terms and schedule, and making something from A to Z all by myself, is deeply satisfying and liberating.
Q: You describe your paintings as visual diaries. What kind of moments or memories do you find yourself returning to most?
A: Mostly, I return to childhood. Since long before I started painting, I often experienced these sudden flashes, memories that would pop into my mind, triggered by a scent, a music, an image or a place. And just like that, I’m back there again: summer holidays by the sea, ballet lessons, the candy shop around the corner, cosy evenings with my family.
It's really that period, perhaps between five and ten or twelve, where I recall these wonderful times. That innocence, that sense of safety, shaped my internal world deeply. As I got older, of course, life became more complicated, adolescence, studies, work, life, responsibilities. But in my art, I consciously choose to reconnect with that earlier time. It’s not about ignoring the rest; it’s about preserving and celebrating those glowing moments of peace and joy. My paintings are my way of sharing that feeling.
Q: Your use of colour and texture feels spontaneous. How do you know when a piece is finished?
A: It’s mostly intuition—a gut feeling rather than a fixed rule.
I work in layers, reacting spontaneously to what’s already on the canvas, with maybe a palette or theme in mind. I keep adding, removing, and drawing until the right balance emerges—of light and dark, bright and muted, spontaneous and structured... Sometimes, I know instantly when it’s done: I feel joy, I want to touch the surface and get lost in the lines. Other times, I need distance, a day, a week, before a small change reveals the answer.
I’ve learned that a painting doesn’t have to be everything. Finishing is also about letting go and moving forward.
Q: You often use both hands, vintage tools, and old materials. What does this hands-on process give you that digital or more traditional methods would not?
A: For me, making art is deeply tactile, I need to feel the materials, even if it means getting covered in paint. I didn’t train in fine arts, so I explore tools in my own way, often using both hands after discovering how intuitive and surprising my non-dominant marks can be.
I enjoy working with vintage tools, thrifted, inherited, or found, not just for their quality, but for the stories they carry and the uniqueness they bring to a piece. I particularly love the thrill of the hunt, and imagining the unexpected marks a specific tool will produce. Also, they're often more affordable, which gives me freedom to experiment without fear.
I’ve tried digital, but I quickly miss the mess. Nothing replaces the texture, unpredictability, and physical joy of messing with real materials.
Q: “Mix Tapes” was your first solo show. How did it feel to share that much personal emotion and playfulness in a public space?
A:It felt both exciting and strangely natural. I had just finished the series when the gallery opportunity came up, and the space was in my neighbourhood and I knew the owner, so I dove in without hesitation.
I mainly focused on the logistics during the preparation time, maybe to avoid thinking about facing the public at the opening night. And it’s only once the paintings were on the wall, that I realised how vulnerable it was, but the positive reactions from visitors were incredibly rewarding. Sharing personal work publicly gave it new life and gave me fresh confidence in my path. Once the show was up, it took on a life of its own, allowing me to move forward and focus on the next paintings.
Q: You say your work is meant to comfort and uplift. What helps you stay connected to joy when the world feels chaotic?
A: First, I avoid starting the day with the news, it’s too heavy and primes my day with the wrong mindset.
Instead, I ease into the day with quiet rituals in the studio: a quick meditation, journaling, cleaning. And once I start painting, I often lose track of time and worries, playing loud music helps.
Colour, movement, and intuition take over, and joy slowly returns.
It doesn’t mean I ignore what’s going on in the world, but the studio feels like a safe space to breathe and feel grounded.
