Painting to Say It by Nathanaëlle Herbelin

Her paintings are filled with elements that resonate with us: our loved ones, our safe spaces, and every day moments. Franco-Israeli artist Nathanaëlle Herbelin explores the idea that painting can bring both comfort and discomfort. From her studio in eastern Paris, she invites us to experience the intimacy of her work and her connection to the concept of familiarity.

Regarding the two concepts in this Tide issue – comfort and sensation – I’d like to discuss both the comfort you experience as a painter and the sensations your work evokes. Let’s begin with your roots and the historical origins of pictorial sensation, starting with the Impressionist movement. This movement aimed to express emotions through gesture, colour, and materiality, breaking away from classicism. Has this influenced your work? Which artistic movements, whetherEuropean or Middle Eastern, have inspired you?

Impressionism has left a lasting mark on me, as has Symbolism. I often return to books on these movements and enjoy visiting the MET in New York to study these paintings – particularly those of the Swiss artist Ferdinand Hodler, who's quite the risk-taker. I'm also drawn to the French master Poussin and other artists whose loose, untamed gestures break away from tradition. InIsrael, there is another trend that fascinates me, known as החומרדלותor "the poverty of matter". It is a minimalist art, an art of the poor. These movements have played a key role in shaping my compositions, including the very pure ones in my paintings that evoke desert landscapes. I find comfort in these paintings; they are my escape when I need to relax.

But you've moved away from these minimalist compositions, haven't you? The paintings in your studio now depict scenes of abundant life instead...

It’s true that the paintings I create now are much denser than my earlier works, though the symbolism remains. For example, this one was influenced by Egon Schiele – there’s almost a mannerist quality to it, which even surprises me. It carries a certain romanticism. This period of my painting feels much heavier and more melancholic. Like the grandfather painting, or these pieces that have a more solemn tone, yet still hold a touch of humour

Nathanaëlle, through your works, I wanted to explore a pictorial idea, the idea that a painting can provide comfort, or what I would like to call "comfort painting", similar to "comfort food". Wecan feel comforted and reassured by the sight of animals, scenes of daily life, nature, our loved ones, or any images that bring us a sense of well-being. This may be due to the choice of scenes depicted – often set within the "home" environment and in intimate situations. It is also influenced by the soft colours, the depth of the paint layers, and the overall sensation conveyed by your paintings, which is calm and enveloping. Why do your paintings make us feel good? Is it the choice of daily life scenes or the figures you portray?

More than comfort, I’m always seeking familiarity.It’s deeply embedded in my culture. I come from theMiddle East, where we communicate through familiarity. For example, our language carries this sense of closeness. In Israel, if you want to be polite, you greet someone with "brother, do me a favour", even if you don’t know them. In France, however, it’s essential to set yourself apart by using "vous" and exercising caution. If I approached you on the street and said"sister, do me a favour", it wouldn’t be seen as polite on the contrary, it could even be perceived as a form of violence.The familiarity in my paintings stems from this — from the trust we build through language and conversation. Painting allows me to explore my roots. Like any artist, I wonder how my work reflects the ongoing conversation I have with my culture. But the feeling of familiarity also depends on perspective. To create an intimate connection with my subjects, I always position myself at eye level. I paint within this inner dialogue. Ultimately,I paint the way I speak.

In this conversation, do you often ask people you know to paint them? Can familiarity come from intimacy?

Approaching strangers is a pretext for me to create. I can go pretty far to become friends with someone I want to paint. When someone attracts me,I feel the need to consume them by painting them, to merge with them. Painting is a way to see them, to freeze them, to pass through them, and finally, to feel them. For example, I'm currently pain-ting my late grandfather. Painting him allows me to bring him back and have a conversation with him. I wish I could hear his thoughts about what's unfolding now in Israel and Palestine.

This is not just a current event, but an endless and unbalanced war. A war that buries old values beneath new ones, and takes its greatest toll on the people— displaced, silenced, and systematically destroyed. I was born into this conflict and I wish that beforeI die, a peaceful and respectful solution for both will be found.

How do you begin your painting process? Do you start with sketches?

Sketches are an integral part of my process andI currently paint a lot from my imagination. All these tiny strokes quickly bore me. Instead of detailed line drawings, I prefer creating colour blobs and using a brush rather than a pencil. I’m looking into pictorial experimentation and working with the material.

These comforting colours can emanate from the light that flows through your paintings. Do the environments you work in have an influence?

I also find the warm colours of the Middle East in the paintings of Lebanese artist Christine Safa andin the Fayum portraits. Each country I’ve worked in has influenced the light in my paintings. I can easily recognise the ones I painted in New York, or those created under neon lights in China.

Do you have a painting process that allows you to achieve a certain balance, a certain comfort?

I work on all my paintings at once. In the morning at the studio, I start with the most pressing idea that comes to me, then I move from canvas to canvas.

What is your painting ritual — the one you're the most comfortable with?

Before I start, I often call my family — my mother or my brother. I also listen to podcasts to break the solitude of the studio. It feels a bit like cheating, but it helps me focus. Since becoming a mom, I’ve become much more structured and efficient; with less time, you have to stay organised. This environment also makes me paint much more than I did before, when I was at art school, dealing with an unstructured rhythm and overwhelming solitude. The accumulation of dozens of paintings that never left the studio had become quite burdensome.

Can you paint in uncomfortable situations?

I enjoy painting outdoors. It's a more challenging process to paint from nature, like in the desert. But being in different environments allows me to create unexpected moments in my work and refresh my approach. I need to move for my paintings to move.

Is your studio your comfort zone?

This is the place where I can be the person I want to be. No hierarchy, no politeness, no expectations.The freedom is incredible.

This sense of comfort can also come from a feeling of completeness in your compositions — a balance of shapes, colours, and light. How do you know when a painting is finished? Do you experience completeness?

I know a painting is finished when everything seems to fit together within the painting’s own world. My eye moves smoothly across the canvas, and if something feels off, I fix it. I need to be certain that nothing feels out of place. It’s all about harmony.