Discover Alan Ezur's fresco on the Darbelots snow factory in Cernix, a look towards a new snowy horizon.
The snow factory at the Crest-Voland Cohennoz resort blends into the landscape. An anonymous, functional structure. A place one forgets. But here, something catches the eye.
A woman's face emerges from an icy mist. Sculpted by light, chiseled by cold. Silent, powerful. Her gaze pierces the horizon, beyond the visible. Her contours fade in a vaporous breath, a fragile and majestic apparition.
Goddess of the peaks, sentinel of the altitude, she watches over. At her feet, immensity. The mountain, dazzling, indomitable. Perhaps already threatened.
Pure lines, sharp contours, fleeting shadows. It seems frozen in its splendor. Intact. And yet, this wall is not insignificant: it belongs to this artificial heart that prolongs winter when nature hesitates. A subtle irony. An assumed paradox.
Alan Ezur plays with this tension. He doesn't paint the erasure of the landscape. He captures the moment before, the moment when everything still holds. A dazzling, controlled vision. Eternal snow? Or a mirage ready to dissipate?
His work oscillates between hyperrealism and abstraction. The movement of graffiti surfaces beneath the precision of the line. The artist, fueled by the adrenaline rush of the wastelands, retains that raw intensity, that spontaneous rhythm inherited from his early lettering. He blends photographic realism and urban graphics, merging instinct and mastery, instantaneity and permanence.
His white lines cross the fresco, creating the effect of a stained-glass window. Our gaze is filtered, as if through a glass prism. A shattered light fragments it, giving the scene the strangeness of a vision between two worlds, where fascination and astonishment intermingle. The mountain has never seemed so majestic. Nor so vulnerable.
Alan Ezur's work doesn't provide an answer. It challenges. It places the viewer on the edge, between admiration and vertigo. Not in the face of what might disappear, but in the face of our irrepressible desire to stand up to time.
"React'Now," whispers the wall...
Text credits: Sophie-Anne Smilevitch ©Be on the Crest
A woman's face emerges from an icy mist. Sculpted by light, chiseled by cold. Silent, powerful. Her gaze pierces the horizon, beyond the visible. Her contours fade in a vaporous breath, a fragile and majestic apparition.
Goddess of the peaks, sentinel of the altitude, she watches over. At her feet, immensity. The mountain, dazzling, indomitable. Perhaps already threatened.
Pure lines, sharp contours, fleeting shadows. It seems frozen in its splendor. Intact. And yet, this wall is not insignificant: it belongs to this artificial heart that prolongs winter when nature hesitates. A subtle irony. An assumed paradox.
Alan Ezur plays with this tension. He doesn't paint the erasure of the landscape. He captures the moment before, the moment when everything still holds. A dazzling, controlled vision. Eternal snow? Or a mirage ready to dissipate?
His work oscillates between hyperrealism and abstraction. The movement of graffiti surfaces beneath the precision of the line. The artist, fueled by the adrenaline rush of the wastelands, retains that raw intensity, that spontaneous rhythm inherited from his early lettering. He blends photographic realism and urban graphics, merging instinct and mastery, instantaneity and permanence.
His white lines cross the fresco, creating the effect of a stained-glass window. Our gaze is filtered, as if through a glass prism. A shattered light fragments it, giving the scene the strangeness of a vision between two worlds, where fascination and astonishment intermingle. The mountain has never seemed so majestic. Nor so vulnerable.
Alan Ezur's work doesn't provide an answer. It challenges. It places the viewer on the edge, between admiration and vertigo. Not in the face of what might disappear, but in the face of our irrepressible desire to stand up to time.
"React'Now," whispers the wall...
Text credits: Sophie-Anne Smilevitch ©Be on the Crest
Rates
Rates
Free access.
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Openings
Openings
All year 2025 - Open everyday
Location
Location
Spoken languages
Spoken languages
Access
Access
- Albertville: 27 km Grenoble: 100 km Lyon: 174 km
By road:
Coming from Lyon or Grenoble, take the A43 motorway, exit 30, towards Val d'Arly, Megève. Coming from Geneva, take the A40 motorway, exit 20 towards Albertville.
By train:
Nearest train station: Albertville (then regional bus shuttles).
