Lucille Fradin

Year of birth: 1999
Where do you live: Paris, France
Your education: BA in Political Science and International relations (McGill, Canada), MSc in Political Economy of Europe (LSE, UK) and Master in Management and Communication of the creative industries (CELSA, France)
Describe your art in three words: mischievous/playful, poetic, provocative
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Your artistic journey began in the world of Political Science and Political Economy. How did this background influence your work as a collage artist, if at all?

I do have a background in Political Science and Political economy but my artistic journey began when I moved back to France. While I’ve always been very creative and in need to do something with my hands, collage has never been something I had in mind, it started intuitively after experimenting editing software life Photoshop.
I do not think my academic background influences my work, but if it does, it’s more in opposition to it as I’ve become quite sceptical of the political world, its processes and its rules.

You describe your process as intuitive and improvisational. Can you share a specific instance where an unplanned moment led to a particularly satisfying artwork?

The whole process of making collage is about improvisation, which is something I paradoxically find hard to do in my everyday life… I never have a precise idea of what I want to achieve, I either start with a background or pre-cuts elements that inspire me and I build on that, while always trying to tell a story and be a little provocative. The process is also made intuitive and ad-lib due to the jumble of papers resulting from endless cutting. I constantly have to navigate through scraps of paper, which makes the process fun and always a bit accidental. For instance, it happens that two elements end up side by side or superimposed and work perfectly together.

The theme of renewal and reinterpretation is central to your practice. How do you decide which discarded materials to incorporate into your collages?

I choose materials that speak to me—old, abandoned pictures found in antique shops, worn magazines, and vintage books from secondhand bookstores. I often say I “murder” these materials, breaking them out of their original context to give them a new life. By removing images from their past narratives, I can reinterpret them, creating something entirely fresh and allowing them to rebirth in a new form through the collage.

The human body, especially the female form, plays a significant role in your work. What draws you to this subject, and how do you aim to represent it in your art?

The human body, is central to my work because I find beauty in its diversity and its fluidity, not bound by any singular notion of ideal or sexuality. I’m drawn to the body in all its types and forms—whether full or slender, young or old, marked by age or untouched by time. Each body tells a unique story, and I see these forms not as objects of desire, but as representations of strength, resilience, and natural grace.
What specifically attracts me to the female form is the way its curves seem to flow, like a continuous line or a movement in space. There’s something inherently dynamic about these shapes—the soft undulations of the waist, the gentle curves of the hips, the natural lines of the arms and legs—that feel alive, almost like they’re constantly in motion. I aim to capture that sense of flow and energy in my work, celebrating the form in its most organic state, without reducing it to something sexualized or objectified. In my collages, I try to represent the body in a way that’s both abstract and evocative. I might fragment the body, break it into parts or reassemble it in unexpected ways, yet always with a touch of humor.
Ultimately, my aim is to challenge traditional representations of the female body, presenting it not through a lens of desire, but as something powerful and self-contained, a form that flows freely and exists beyond the constraints of societal expectations.

Your work captures the tension between order and chaos. How do you navigate this balance when creating a new piece?

I navigate the balance between order and chaos by embracing both as essential elements of the creative process. I start with a loose structure or concept, but allow room for spontaneity and intuition. The tension arises as I layer materials, creating moments of control through composition, while letting other parts evolve unpredictably. This interplay between intention and randomness adds energy and depth to the work, reflecting the way order and chaos often coexist in life.

In your opinion, what role does symbology play in collage art, and how do you use it to communicate complex ideas?

In collage art, symbology plays a role in conveying complex ideas by layering meanings through visual elements. I use symbols—whether they’re found objects, textures, or fragments of images—to evoke specific emotions or narratives. These symbols allow me to create a dialogue between the past and present, the personal and universal, adding depth and complexity to my work. By juxtaposing familiar and unexpected elements, I aim to communicate layers of meaning that invite the viewer to interpret the artwork from multiple perspectives.

As a self-taught artist, what were some of the biggest challenges you faced, and how did you overcome them?

I would say that my biggest challenge has been overcoming the feeling of illegitimacy. The term “artist” is so broad, and yet, at times, it feels like it carries such weight. I often struggle with the question of whether I have the right to call myself an artist without the traditional academic background that many others may have. There’s this constant tension between the desire to create and the self-doubt that sometimes creeps in, making me question whether my work is valid or worthy of being called art.

I’ve found that the best way to overcome this challenge is simply to keep creating. The more I focus on the process of making and the joy that comes from bringing something into existence, the less I allow those doubts to define me. I remind myself that art isn’t about credentials or formal training; it’s about the connection it creates with the viewer, which can transcend technical or formal knowledge. By letting go of the pressure to fit into a specific mold and embracing the authenticity of my own journey, I’ve come to realize that the legitimacy of my work is rooted in the act of creation itself—not in any external validation.