Aly AMIMEUR is my name. I was born in 1966, not far from Algiers (Algeria) to the accesses of the plains of Métidja. With the paddle of my adolescence, I discovered France, a country to the thousand and one colors. I learned how there to speak with the heart and thus I knew that I had two of them, one for the country who saw me being born and the different one for that which enabled me to be. My childhood was rocked by the women my "tribe". These women, whose tunics chatoyantes merged with the colors that exhibait spring through these landscapes of countryside, if expensive with my heart. I have this major memory of art to the daily newspaper; carpets, potteries and baskets with the Berber reasons, the hot colors collected in nature, which spoke the language about my ancestors and answered the sun. I remember these women endeavouring to paint with white lime the walls of the ground houses, like tables ready to receive a divine inspiration. The flexibility of the wicker and the delicacy of clay, lived a real happiness between the so skilful hands of these anonymous artists. They had a perfect knowledge of the harmony of the colors and forms, they had modesty to be unaware of the kindness of art, indicating all that like a need and not like an expression dedicated to the inexistence.

 These some lines are insufficient to pay the great homage to them which is owe them.  All my recognition their is acquired. 

France was my "culture medium". Autodidact, I begin with photography. In parallel, I was formed with the audio-visual techniques, the cinema, the dramatic art and put in scene. A formation with the computer graphics has perfect my course. During my readings of technical reviews, I took an advice which appeared very invaluable: (to study the light photographs some through painting). I was unaware of whereas that would carry out me so far. Cézanne, Van Gogh and all the impressionists gave birth to in me a passion without precedent. Later, the surrealist ones made me dream; the cubists, Picasso at their head were right of my investigations and Kandinsky convinced me of its spirituality and the way to be followed. Rimbaud, Baudelaire and the Others knew to give me the tone of transitory and very whole eternity.

 "When snow melts, where the white goes?"  W Shakespeare Said. 

Large a Thank you with all the berceurs of the heart...