To Paskua writing that his work is « an exuberant, dancing, mocking, childish, happy art”,
one should dare to retort that it is nothing of the kind ; that his creation is
everything but  exuberant, dancing, mocking,
childish… And happy ! 
Indeed, who would link these adjectives to works,
admittedly figurative, but in which significant linearities are not always
evident ? Which have the obsessional recurrences of Outsider Art’s. In which
the artist, firmly fixed in a will of originality and sincerity, has, like all
Outsider artists, got rid of the canons of classical painting, giving himself a
boundless freedom, travelling in a pictorial reasoning where the most total
fantasizing prevails. Compulsive, could one say, to fill the whole space and
express what is stirring in him. So much so that very often, this space may be
assimilated to vegetal closed doors, in which the painter seems unable to let
the slightest breathing. Paskua’s work is, in fact, a mixing of anomalous and
endogenous plants, with stiff and sometimes parallel stems, more often than not
arborescent ; born from substratum/bellies situated off the picture-scope, but
nevertheless retaining the whole work, their “presence” attested by the
plant-floridness. These plants branch out into bundles which group together
again, intertwine their complexities ; breeding in their ascent, islets where
life peeps. For Paskua’s painting is all about elements of life, static but
omnipresent, according to these shapes and no-shapes : as if what looked, at
first glance, solely flowerlike, harboured in fact, enclosed in the least
entanglements, budding forces suggestive of “human” presence : anthropomorphous
embryos, maybe ; faces, most certainly… phallus/spurs, heart/flowers, head/petals,
gap/vulvas… And then, childish tadpole little men on bas-reliefs, as the
outcome of these matings : a polymorphic, uncertain and deceptive miror : in
short, means for, and aims to prove that life. Now, easy to “read. Now, hardly
emerging from the magma elaborated by the painter with the heavy paintbrush
working bit by bit to convey its reliefs ; badly dented, and hillocky ; thick
to the point of clinging to the vermiculated planks regenerated by the artist’s
creative intervention. At other times, unable to keep hanging from the support
projections, from its grainy surfaces, it drips between the “plants” and slides
down to the “ground” ! So that Paskua, in a double movement, raises “with his
plants”, in the assertion of his being ; and falls down “with his drippings”
which, by their uncertain forms and uncontrollable collapses, seem to want and
keep present to him the cleaving of spirit with lost illusions going by, man’s
drifting towards death, the impossibility for him to hold back, even for a moment,
the passing of time. The very titles, by their antinomies, the pictures they
convey… corroborate this search of sensuousnesses and subsequent
disillusionments (“Flowerings of silence”, “A bit of free and windy chaos”,
“Fern eyes almost coal, almost flame, almost waves”, “Springs of the night
bathed in light”, “The whole beyond is in that life”…) The most unexpected,
being those in which the artist seems to carry out a dual personality, to split
from this environment ; or, on the contrary, try to master it (“Let her
sleep at the bottom of my slumber”, “My flood linked to her
waves”…). 

But, all things considered, is this attitude so surprising ? From his
years spent in the tropics, doesn’t Paskua want, through the luxuriance of his
work, prove his will to assimilate the atmosphere of the island, by painting
over floated woods and other sea-discharges ; by using land-anomalies, for
instance glanzing termites’nests, symbols of other swarmings he himself created
? Meanwhile, doesn’t he give painted evidence, through the paradoxical
simplicity imposed on these luxuriances, and since his work is neither
ethnological nor a “witness of his time” or of the society he mixes with, that
he keeps fresh in his mind, memories of other places accosted along his sea-wanderings,
and which had him sail this far ? Whatever the answer, his preoccupation
consists in searching for “him” in the primal signs of life, with such
intensity that he confirms “his” presence on each painting, in the guise of a
picto-signature !