When you walk into the Marian Goodman Gallery in the heart of Le Marais, the space does not seem conducive to hosting art that questions the value structure of society and the artistic world as a whole. In fact, from the outside looking in, Marian Goodman seems like any other art space in Paris. To enter the gallery, you must buzz and be let in through an imposing wooden door. Next, the immaculate courtyard comes into view, replete with cobblestones that provide a somewhat industrial contrast to the islands of manicured bushes and vibrant green grass throughout. The Hausmann-style double windows and wrought iron details of the building’s façade only augment the feeling that Marian Goodman Gallery is just another elegant, conventional museum in Paris’s city center. 

What sets Marian Goodman apart from its compatriots, however, is the art displayed there. The gallery is unafraid to showcase bold contemporary artists, such as filmmaker Chantal Akerman or conceptual artist Lothar Baumgarten, who might otherwise be shied away from in more traditional Parisian art spaces. Thus, what could be a stuffy, conventional gallery is made into something more thought-provoking. You expect to see one type of art, but you actually get another. By making room for international artists and auteurs, the gallery realizes the goal of the eponymous Marian Goodman, who stated, “Good art is never a commentary. Rather, art is about life and can give an answer, a way for an individual to relate herself or himself to it.” In my opinion, what sets the gallery apart from others in the city is this spirit of recognizing oneself in the art, and the way the gallery challenges the dominant European worldview that Paris tends to embody. 

From February 12th to March 26th, the gallery is hosting work from the American artist Paul Sietsema. Across both the upper and lower floors of the gallery, his exhibit displays eight painted works and two films. What most stood out to me about the gallery is that there is plenty of space for visitors to spread out and contemplate each painting within the gallery, a notable departure from more mainstream artistic haunts such as the Louvre or the Musée d’Orsay that are almost intimidating in their size and breadth of artwork. By keeping the exhibition tightly curated, the gallery virtually forces visitors to take their time examining and analyzing each piece. The result is a deeper understanding of not only the individual pieces, but also the exhibition as a whole. 

Notwithstanding the space itself, Sietsema’s work is an excellent study in how we value art and artists within modern society. When you walk into the space, you are immediately confronted with Woman Sitting, which is Sietsema’s take on Pablo Picasso’s 1902 bronze sculpture Seated Woman. At first glance, the piece seems like a photograph on canvas with three painting stirring sticks underneath. When you venture closer, however, you can see that Sietsema has actually painted in a way that makes his work seem like a photograph. He even paints the halftone dots that are characteristic to color printing, like what one would see in printed color newspapers or magazines. 

The piece made me reflect on the many processes that go into making and perfecting art, and the way that we as viewers often assign different levels of value to different mediums that we see. For example, I tend to instinctively value painting over photography because I can see the brushstrokes and effort that go into the piece, whereas I can simply attribute a good photograph to capturing the right object at the right time. Obviously, this is quite reductive and untrue—and Sietsema plays into these deeply held societal beliefs, then turns them upside down. The fact that the figure is depicted at rest, the photographic quality, and the simplicity of the image lead you to believe that the piece is just another contemporary work that is only famous because nobody else did it first. But this notion is disrupted by the three paint stirrers embedded in the piece. 

The paint stirrers break up the simplistic, peaceful image of Picasso’s sculpture to remind the viewer that we only see a finished product, never the brushes, paint, stained clothing, or long hours that actually go into a piece of art. Moreover, Sietsema’s use of halftone dots forces the viewer to confront the way that they value different types of art. Instead of using a style specific to painting, such as Impressionism or Cubism, Woman Sitting is a painting that imitates a different medium entirely. The piece almost asks, ‘Would you think less of me if I were a photograph?’ To answer this question, the viewer must grapple with the way that they view and value art. 

Another piece that stood out to me was Carriage Painting (Green Square). Like Woman Sitting, this painting looks like a photograph at first glance, and its texture is visible to the naked eye. I almost (definitely) wanted to run my fingers over it. With this piece, Sietsema manipulates dimension in such a way that the two dollar bill juts out of the canvas if you look close enough. It is also worth noting that for this piece, Sietsema bought another artist’s work and then altered the canvas to fit his own creative aims. 

I really like Carriage Painting (Green Square) because within it is a unique consideration of the way that we value both art and money. My first thought was of the irony that Sietsema employs by including a two dollar bill in a piece that is worth exponentially more. He takes the dollar bill, something that is commonplace and printed by the millions (trillions?), and raises its artistic value by painting it and capturing all of the details that a machine normally prints within a few seconds. What’s more, he raises questions of originality and authenticity by using another artist’s work to ground his own piece. I wondered how that artist would feel if they knew that Sietsema used their work—if they would be jealous, happy, sad, or somewhere in between. Moreover, the piece made me think of how the art world, similar to the luxury industry, will place a lot of monetary value on an artist who is better known versus an artist who is less well known, but who might have more skill. I would be willing to bet that Sietsema paid very little for the piece he bought, but because he is well known, the value probably skyrocketed once he made the piece his own. I think the point of Carriage Painting (Green House) is for viewers to contemplate how the authenticity of art is really a gray area, and how the magnetic pull of art does not rely on its originality, but the meaning imparted onto the piece by the artist. 

Another piece I really enjoyed was Abstract Composition, a 16mm film that focuses on how the art world classifies pieces that are up for auction or that are in an art catalog. In the fifteen minute film, Sietsema uses a rotating white sign to display phrases that have been used to describe art for sale. The piece includes phrases such as “Armes, Militaria, et Décorations,” “Rosewood Game Table,” and “Arab Horseman.” 

What stood out to me about Abstract Composition was the way that Sietsema plays with texture and dimension. He could have placed these phrases in a slideshow or foregone a film altogether in favor of placing the phrases side by side as paintings or images. Instead, he chose to display each phrase one by one, and I almost expected the film to include the pieces that he was describing. Instead, he uses the texture of the paper and the dimension of rotation to imply that not only are these pieces up for grabs, but their meaning is up for interpretation. The responsibility of visualizing what these pieces actually look like is up to the viewer’s imagination, and therefore, it is up to the viewer to determine the value that these hypothetical pieces might have. 

Overall, I really, really enjoyed Sietsema’s exhibition at the Marian Goodman gallery. I don’t always understand the meaning behind art, let alone contemporary art, so it was a pleasant surprise to walk into a gallery and to be able to take my time contemplating each piece and how all of Sietsema’s work comes together to form a cohesive exhibition. Additionally, the meaning behind Sietsema’s pieces prompted me to self-reflect on how I classify and prioritize different types of art. When I finished with the exhibit and walked out, I felt a new appreciation for the way that artists imbue their pieces with meaning for those who are willing to look for it.