Chase Contemporary

André Masson was not trying to make drawing cleaner.
By 1924, he was trying to break the part of the mind that made drawing too controlled. No planned subject. No careful composition. No safe idea waiting in advance.

He let the pen move before the brain could organize it.
That became automatic drawing: a way to outrun logic long enough for something stranger to appear. The line came first. The image came after.

Inside the chaos, Masson found bodies, animals, violence, desire, and strange forms that looked less invented than released.

That was the shift. Drawing stopped being only proof of control. It became evidence of what escaped it.

Jason Dussault did not come into art through the clean, expected route.

He spent more than a decade in finance before reconnecting with art while living in Malta, surrounded by old stone, ancient history, and the kind of permanence modern culture rarely gets.

That turn explains the work.

Dussault takes mosaic, a 4,000-year-old craft, and gives it the wrong gods: superheroes, sneakers, cartoons, Lego figures, the icons people actually grew up watching, wearing, buying, and collecting.

Then he rebuilds them by hand in tile, grout, resin, paint, and vintage porcelain.

The result is pop culture made heavy. The disposable becomes physical. The things that were supposed to pass through trends start looking like artifacts from a civilization that worshipped them.