My Last Tribute to Christian Pélier, writer and founder of Univers d'Artistes

A last tribute to Christian Pélier, writer and founder of Univers d'Artistes.





















This night, a great man, humble and generous, has passed away. He would probably not approve if he knew I was sad. He would remind me that it is forbidden to be so, that I should rather be laughing and dancing! I accept it, I am happy, he said, before leaving us.

Little man will become a great one

An innate love for arts (1961).

Julien and Claire, his greatest masterpieces.

He had observed me from his home in Marseille for quite a while, discreetly, through this virtual world which can sometimes bring us closer too, analyzing me, enjoying my artistic work. One day, he approached me and asked if I would agree to let him write an article about me in the magazine he had founded with love and passion: Univers d'Artistes. What an honor!

At home with Priscilla, his sister-in-law.

He then asked me to become an editor for his magazine and at the same time, he was offering me on a silver platter the form of expression I needed so I could finally feel as a complete and fulfilled artist. Not only did he allow me to express myself as I wanted, when I wanted, about what I wanted, but he also gave me the confidence to break my barriers and finally open my own wings.






He knew he was in the twilight of his life and he found in me his art and writing twin, as he liked to call me. Throughout our exchanges, his observations on my articles and my texts, he chose to entrust me the magazine, administrating it, and becoming editor-in-chief as well, so Univers d'Artistes could continue to exist and to put in the spotlight the talent of incredible artists, even after his death. It was his biggest dream.

I have nothing to do with it, it's your dream to write that called me, beautiful Carolyn, and I am giving you the key. From editor to art journalist, you become administrator. Calm down, breathe, take the key, it's yours. It is quite simple; it is the key of your office. Welcome home. There are photos on the ground to choose the best one. On the walls, pictures everywhere, autographed photos. My desk is in a tidy mess, yours is right next to mine, dress it up. I'll support you, it's easy. Come in calmly and visit.

I shall respect loyally the last wills of this man of heart, of an unlimited generosity, who saw himself in me and in whom I saw myself as well. He loved photography, art, the words to speak about it, but most of all, the artists and creators behind the works he shared with such a contagious enthusiasm.






That's a lot for my frail shoulders, Christian, but I will try. I will try very hard, because you asked me.






He became a precious friend and today, it is with a lot of sadness that I let go of his hand to let him fly away. It will be alright, Christian, I will make it. You offered me a very well-stocked toolbox that I keep preciously next to me, easily reachable.





You taught me a lot and made me grow so much in such a short period. You gave me the piece of the puzzle that was missing to my entirety. This is one of the greatest presents I have ever received. Thank you Christian. Thank you for everything, everything, absolutely everything. I will never forget you and I want everyone to know how admirable and moving your strength and your joy of life were.

After having studied in tourism and business management, Christian worked for a few years in these spheres. Following the worsening of his multiple sclerosis from which he was suffering, diagnosed in 2004, he chose to become a writer and to share his passion and knowledge by teaching writing. Life redirected him to where his rightful place was, where he could bring a lot to this world. He was meant for it.






I present here a very touching text that Christian wrote with his finger... his only finger left, yes. He used to never complain about anything. And despite this enormous constraint, he has never stopped writing magnificent texts that spoke directly to our hearts.

A warrior never complains. Elite soldier, I shall go at the end of the end of my finger.

My last editorial. Maybe so many artists leave in order to come back...

I have only one finger left to write. I fought well, but it will not have been enough.

I'm not sad. I cannot wait for It to embrace me and to end my suffering.

My mission on Earth ends and I will settle on another more welcoming planet because I have purified my karma. I had an extraordinary life. I traveled the world for twenty years and realized dreams that I did not even know I had. I have even found my vocation and I will continue to write more and more, words of white magic, words of love. I did not kill anyone, I saved four lives, I respected nature and its living beings. Gabriel and Omaël gave me the time to forgive myself for my mistakes, my faults and my resentments, as to forgive theirs too.

The comedy ends now. Three little turns and it's already time to go. My patchwork (figuratively: a whole composed of disparate parts) is stored, so I say See you, especially not Farewell nor Never more, just See you and thank you, it's enough.

Without tears or sorrow and without any other wealth then the caress of your eyes on my words, in this last editorial, I say See you soon.

I say See you on another planet, because in another time and in other places, we will meet again.

That's it, it's over. I just wanted to say So long to you tonight. Wanted to say See you soon and I love you.

Dearly,

Smiling,

Chris

Rest in peace my dear friend. We all love you so much.

https://www.instagram.com/luniversdartistes/

http://www.n2r-christian-pelier.com/

His books:

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/pelierc

I am not reasonable

I am neither compliant nor conventional

I don't eat like I should

I don't sleep when I should

I shut up when I should speak

And comment what must be kept silent

I have no age consciousness

I don't watch my back

I don't believe in any homeland

I did no war

And did not cause any

I am not fashion

No system suits me

I do not care about the institution

And I don't believe in gods anymore

I am not strong

I am not tall

I don't exercise

And I hate soccer

During the Inquisition, I would have been burnt

For all that I proclaim

My words for our liberty

Pinochet would have shot me

Staline, deported me

Hitler, gased me

And Bush would punish me

For my sincerity

In my society, I am lost

I must be in the wrong era

Maybe in a thousand years from now

Will we finally understand

                                        - Christian Pélier