Nicolas Brault

A winter tale: the real experience of an imagined love.

Squame explores the body's sensitive envelope, the skin. The ephemeral animated desquamations, created with the help of sugar casts, evoke fragile landscapes in a world at the edge of abstraction. Somewhere between archeological artifacts and macroscopic observations, the friable frontiers of these human bodies elude our gaze.

The first of a trilogy, this animated media film embraces novel production and broadcasting methods to embrace a non-narrative, open form. FOREIGN BODIES was created using video light painting and modern medical imaging (CT, MRI, cryosection), generating a mythical landscape of transparent bodies, and instilling a sense of strangeness that our own bodies can sometimes inspire.

The first of a trilogy, this animated media film embraces novel production and broadcasting methods to embrace a non-narrative, open form. FOREIGN BODIES was created using video light painting and modern medical imaging (CT, MRI, cryosection), generating a mythical landscape of transparent bodies, and instilling a sense of strangeness that our own bodies can sometimes inspire.

Na década de 1920, o ator George Valentin é uma estrela do cinema mudo, mas sua carreira está ameaçada pela chegada do cinema sonoro. Enquanto ele luta para manter seus filmes, Peppy Miller, uma coadjuvante, alcança a fama.

In the vestibule of a hospital room, a young boy waits to see his dying mother. The clamor and spiralling movements of bodies around him intensify, forming a grotesque circus—a cacophonous circle that pushes the child back, depriving him of one final touch of his mother's hand. Using rotoscoped drawings suggestive of charcoal sketches, as well as 3D and object animation techniques, The Circus compels viewing with its unsettling realism. Colour is employed metaphorically to subtly express the promise and the memory of maternal affection. Nicolas Brault's highly personal film, suffused with poetic modesty, casts a poignantly sincere gaze on the heartbreak of a child facing the fearful, mysterious experience of his mother's death.

In the vestibule of a hospital room, a young boy waits to see his dying mother. The clamor and spiralling movements of bodies around him intensify, forming a grotesque circus—a cacophonous circle that pushes the child back, depriving him of one final touch of his mother's hand. Using rotoscoped drawings suggestive of charcoal sketches, as well as 3D and object animation techniques, The Circus compels viewing with its unsettling realism. Colour is employed metaphorically to subtly express the promise and the memory of maternal affection. Nicolas Brault's highly personal film, suffused with poetic modesty, casts a poignantly sincere gaze on the heartbreak of a child facing the fearful, mysterious experience of his mother's death.

In the vestibule of a hospital room, a young boy waits to see his dying mother. The clamor and spiralling movements of bodies around him intensify, forming a grotesque circus—a cacophonous circle that pushes the child back, depriving him of one final touch of his mother's hand. Using rotoscoped drawings suggestive of charcoal sketches, as well as 3D and object animation techniques, The Circus compels viewing with its unsettling realism. Colour is employed metaphorically to subtly express the promise and the memory of maternal affection. Nicolas Brault's highly personal film, suffused with poetic modesty, casts a poignantly sincere gaze on the heartbreak of a child facing the fearful, mysterious experience of his mother's death.

In the vestibule of a hospital room, a young boy waits to see his dying mother. The clamor and spiralling movements of bodies around him intensify, forming a grotesque circus—a cacophonous circle that pushes the child back, depriving him of one final touch of his mother's hand. Using rotoscoped drawings suggestive of charcoal sketches, as well as 3D and object animation techniques, The Circus compels viewing with its unsettling realism. Colour is employed metaphorically to subtly express the promise and the memory of maternal affection. Nicolas Brault's highly personal film, suffused with poetic modesty, casts a poignantly sincere gaze on the heartbreak of a child facing the fearful, mysterious experience of his mother's death.

In the vestibule of a hospital room, a young boy waits to see his dying mother. The clamor and spiralling movements of bodies around him intensify, forming a grotesque circus—a cacophonous circle that pushes the child back, depriving him of one final touch of his mother's hand. Using rotoscoped drawings suggestive of charcoal sketches, as well as 3D and object animation techniques, The Circus compels viewing with its unsettling realism. Colour is employed metaphorically to subtly express the promise and the memory of maternal affection. Nicolas Brault's highly personal film, suffused with poetic modesty, casts a poignantly sincere gaze on the heartbreak of a child facing the fearful, mysterious experience of his mother's death.

Under the African sun, a child walks in the desert with his kin. Death is prowling, but a mother's soul resurrected by music will return strength and life to the child when he becomes a man. Inspired by the grace and raw beauty of African rock paintings, Nicolas Brault paints a story without borders, with the humanity and elegance of a universal narrator.

The film is an abstract allegory, showing two penguins with different ideas abot sea creatures that are their food or their shadows, depending on the perspective. Basically, sense-twisting animation.

The film is an abstract allegory, showing two penguins with different ideas abot sea creatures that are their food or their shadows, depending on the perspective. Basically, sense-twisting animation.

The film is an abstract allegory, showing two penguins with different ideas abot sea creatures that are their food or their shadows, depending on the perspective. Basically, sense-twisting animation.

The film is an abstract allegory, showing two penguins with different ideas abot sea creatures that are their food or their shadows, depending on the perspective. Basically, sense-twisting animation.

For an Inuit fisherman, technology means absurdity. Floating out on a block of ice, he doesn't have any other choice to grab onto some flying fish to save himself.

For an Inuit fisherman, technology means absurdity. Floating out on a block of ice, he doesn't have any other choice to grab onto some flying fish to save himself.

For an Inuit fisherman, technology means absurdity. Floating out on a block of ice, he doesn't have any other choice to grab onto some flying fish to save himself.

Short animation by Nicolas Brault

Short animation by Nicolas Brault

Short animation from Nicolas Brault

Short animation from Nicolas Brault