If he sold little, he gave a lot of his works and sometimes traded them. A bulimic painter, in 1935 he made more than 80 paintings and just as much wash and watercolors. Brittany and Provence were his favourite fields that he walked in his eternal velvet golf trousers, a tight jacket at the waist and a faded colonial hat. He painted landscapes with a sure and inventive gesture, “It’s Monet”, his wife will say frequently. Unsatisfied with his paintings, he destroyed or repainted incessantly half of his canvases. Drawn with charcoal, primed with flat areas of contrast finished with a knife. Less detours, less contours, the colors lit up, the matter thickened, insensibly. Aging, Matisse followed his progress with interest and strong advice. The war settled the couple who lived close to Mont Ventoux. The arid and luminous landscape imposed itself on the painter. He defeated the perspectives by touches of successive colors to print on each canvas the impressionist symphony he composed. Sardou maked acquaintances, found new clients, a circle of admirers and did not leave the lights of Provence anymore.
Born in Nice and spent most of his life in France. He painted outdoors and had Courbet as a referent.