Rush Hour, 2025,
Colored pencil and pastel on paper, 53 x 59 in

Courtesy of the artist.

Not Too Short!, 2024,
Colored pencil on paper, sheet: 30 x 22 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Detail of Not Too Short!, 2024,
Colored pencil on paper, sheet: 30 x 22 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

The Archer, 2024, Colored pencil on paper,
sheet: 25 1/2 x 19 3/4 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Detail of The Archer, 2024, Colored pencil on paper,
sheet: 25 1/2 x 19 3/4 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Hand Made Pupa, 2024,
Colored pencil and pastel on paper,
sheet: 41 3/4 x 29 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Detail of Hand Made Pupa, 2024,
Colored pencil and pastel on paper,
sheet: 41 3/4 x 29 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Entangled, 2024, Colored pencil and pastel on paper,
sheet: 19 3/4 x 18 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

Installation view of Custom Made, 2024.

Courtesy of the artist and Scroll, New York.

memory/

Art didn’t come to me at 27. I’ve been drawing since I was a child, and it has never left me. It was one of the rare activities I could focus on for hours without interruption. I remember all my school notebooks were filled with doodles. When I finished high school, I considered whether I should go to art school or pursue something more corporate. I grew up in a family of doctors and wasn’t really exposed to visual arts or surrounded by people working in any kind of artistic or cultural field.

My parents were pretty pragmatic about studies and financial independence. In the end, I didn’t choose the art path. I didn’t even know what being an artist really meant; I thought, “How do you even make a living from it?” So I went to business school. But no regrets! I met all of my best friends there. I worked in fashion and communication for a few years, but I felt something was off. The corporate world just didn’t feel aligned with me.

I’ve always read comics––my apartment is full of them. Originally, I wanted to quit my job to become a cartoonist, but I quickly realized that path wasn’t right for me. In comics, the drawing matters, sure, but it’s there to serve the story, not the other way around. I love spending hours on a single drawing, and that doesn’t work when you have to produce page after page of panels. That’s when I shifted my focus entirely to drawing. Nonetheless, comics still have a major influence on how I work, and I think that’s why I always include multiple narratives in my drawings.

The artist’s studio.

Image credit: Gabrielle Luu

line/

I’m deeply inspired by fashion and my surroundings. For example, Kenzo Takada is one of my favorite designers––his collections from the ’90s really influenced my use of color and patterns in clothing. I’m also fascinated by historical costumes, ballet uniforms, circus clothing, and pieces that carry a sense of ceremony or performance. To me, getting dressed isn’t just practical––it’s physical. It’s a way of expressing who you are through movement and material.

Whenever I start a new body of work, I visit libraries and museums, and I build these huge image collections. One of my favorite places is the Librairie des Arts Décoratifs in Paris, which specializes in fashion. I spend hours looking through books by major designers and photos of people working in ateliers. There’s so much documentation of the skilled hands behind those iconic runway shows, and I’m obsessed with the precision and technique involved. I wanted to draw people working and making things, which led to my exhibition Custom Made at Scroll NYC, where I focused on the idea of labor. The figures in those drawings were workers wearing similar clothes, like uniforms, defined more by what they do and wear than by who they are individually.

The women I drew before were not very feminine, but they are evolving to become more like me. Before, I was more pudique. I’m not depicting myself in my work, but I photograph myself for the poses and movements. I knew people were going to see these figures as images of me, so I gave them the impression of being more childlike and covered them up. I didn’t want people to recognize me or see my body on display. However, I think my drawings are growing up with me. Now, the women in my drawings look like me, but their unique clothes and masks give them individual character. The work has evolved with me as I become comfortable with my identity and femininity.

I often like to dress in short skirts, crop tops, or really feminine clothes, but growing up, my parents always told me to cover up. In Paris, like in many cities, women face harassment constantly, being catcalled and insulted. It made me so angry. You kind of learn to live with it, but deep down it strips you of a sense of freedom. I never really felt free to embrace my body or express my style in real life. So in my drawings, I just let my characters wear whatever I wish I could. There’s no harassment in that space. They can wear sheer, colorful clothes, or be half-naked and it’s totally fine. Drawing became a way for me to process all that frustration and anxiety. It’s like I’m creating this imaginary, safe world where I have full control; over the bodies, the colors, the movement, the interactions. Everything.

The artist’s inspiration boards.

Courtesy of the artist.

color/

I’ve treated the past few years as my own version of art school. It’s been a time for me to experiment, to explore my style, figure out which mediums I connect with, and understand what really draws me in. Looking back, my work has evolved a lot over the past years. I’m still learning, still growing.

I started working in my studio in Paris, where my living and working space are combined. For practical reasons, I began focusing on drawing and I quickly got hooked. I love how much control pencils give me. Every line is intentional, and the whole process feels really meditative. I can get lost in a drawing for hours.

I usually start with some rough sketches and a loose idea of the composition. But then I just let it unfold on the page. Generally, each character comes to me one by one. I might see a screencap from a film, or something from an exhibition, or a look from a runway show and it finds its way into the piece. I never really know what’s coming next in my work. Sometimes that’s scary and I catch myself thinking, “Oh my god, where am I going with this?” But it’s a bit like being in a dark room with just a candle. You only see what’s right in front of you, but the light grows brighter, little by little.

The artist’s studio.

Image credit: Gabrielle Luu

Written and interviewed by Gabrielle Luu.

Gabrielle Luu is a writer based in Brooklyn, NY and the Editor-in-Chief of Civil Art.

Published July 22, 2025.

Image credit: Pontus Hook
Courtesy of the artist.

Adèle Aproh

Adèle Aproh (b. 1996) is an artist based in Paris, France.

Aproh has presented recent solo exhibitions at MXM, Madrid, and Scroll NYC, New York. Her work has been included in group exhibitions at Saatchi Gallery, London; MIMA Museum, Brussels; The Hole, New York; ATLA, Los Angeles (in collaboration with IRL Gallery); IRL Gallery, New York; Future Fair, New York (with IRL Gallery); Moosey Art, London; and Unit 1 Gallery in collaboration with Delphian Gallery, London, among others. She was awarded the Innovate Grant in Summer 2023 and a Summer 2025 artist-in-residence at the Mack Art Foundation.