The Pinault Collection at the Bourse de Commerce

Two years ago, the historically-charged “Bourse de Commerce” became the Parisian outpost of the renowned Pinault Collection. The Pinault Collection is the private collection of over 10,000 works of largely contemporary art belonging to billionaire businessman Francois Pinault. The third physical museum displaying the collection, the Bourse de Commerce is unique for various reasons. Though lengthy papers could be (and have been) dedicated solely to the building’s unique architecture, I have decided to focus on the exhibits themselves. While Palazzo Grassi and Punta della Dogma–the collection’s two other locations–usually only showcase one exhibit at a time each, the Bourse de Commerce currently has five independent exhibitions on view. This variety of course leads to the exhibits existing in interesting relationships to one another, as well as a range in overall quality. In this post I will attempt to briefly analyze each of the exhibits and the ways they succeeded and failed within the space of the Bourse de Commerce.

The first exhibit a visitor is likely to encounter is that of the semi-controversial sculptor Charles Ray. One of his sculptures, Horse and Rider, is installed directly outside of the museum entrance, greeting the visitor with flashes of light glinting off of its reflective metal exterior. The prominence of the Charles Ray exhibit is therefore established from the outset and is continued by the placement of another Ray sculpture directly after the security check. Perhaps because of his fame and occasional infamy, or because of the visually bold and aesthetically recognizable character of his works, Charles Ray is used to affirm the value of the museum as a whole and potentially the value of the other exhibits by leading viewer through them.

After the second Ray sculpture, the visitor must cross the “passage,” which displays the Bertrand Lavier exhibit, to view the three additional Ray works arranged in the rotunda. This directed movement does encourage the visitor to at least spare a glance at the Lavier works. However, it simultaneously establishes a hierarchy of exhibit importance by utilizing the Lavier exhibit as a means of transportation to the Ray works. As for the works in the Rotunda, I found their spacing and unmarked placement combined with the building’s architecture to create the feeling of a hotel lobby. However, I must admit that my personal distaste for Ray’s aesthetic definitely colored my perception. The Ray exhibit continues on the second floor, again requiring the visitor to either disrupt the Ray exhibit or pass-up various other exhibits on their upwards trek. The Ray exhibit takes up the entirety of the second floor, with its layout almost mimicking a narrative structure with a plot-twist ending. Though analyzing individual pieces is not my goal in this paper, I do think a note on the final sculpture is necessary for its role in relation to the other pieces. Oh! Charley, Charley, Charley… depicts eight identical and life-sized copies of the artist himself engaged in a variety of explicit sexual acts with one another. However, it is the work’s installation that I find most fascinating. The massive sculpture is hid behind a semi-cubicle, with unaware visitors asked to wait in line before entering and viewing. This installation demonstrates a clear delight and almost reveling in the work’s shock value, which simultaneously reduces it purely to shock value. The unbalanced dynamic this set-up creates between the viewer and the artist threatens the integrity of the exhibit as a whole. Considering the exhibit after this piece feels very different, casting suspicions on the intent of the artist. Whether that is purposeful or not I can’t say, but it does seem vaguely insulting to the good faith of the viewer.

I’ll now briefly return to the Lavier exhibit. This unique retrospective made use of 24 display cases, built for the 1889 World Fair, which circle the outside of the rotunda. These cases add a transformative element to the works which in turn are placed into conversation with the cases and the other encased works. This playful intervention invites some of the older Lavier works featured to be questioned or considered from a new perspective.  This installation may not necessarily encourage lengthy viewing of the individual cases, but I found the exhibit to work well when viewed as one amalgamation of Lavier’s overall career as an artist rather than a collection of singular works.

The last exhibit I’ll discuss is that of David Hammons. This exhibit, which represents the largest collection of Hammons’ works in a singular location thus far, makes an interesting counterpoint to the Ray exhibit. The Hammons exhibit is more traditional in its basic set-up: the viewer enters in one room which includes a description of the artist and then moves through a larger room of works and into a final room before exiting, the exhibit viewing now concluded. Because of this, the Hammons exhibit is far more self-contained than the Ray exhibit and also invites a more specific order of viewing the works. However, the installation of the works themselves within the space is anything but traditional. Most of the Hammons works had no physical barrier and in fact seemed to encourage nontraditional ways of interaction with the pieces. For example, one piece–a mounted deer head made off metal and assorted scraps–was placed so high and jutted out so far that the best way to perceive it was by standing directly underneath and looking up at it. Other works featured extremely delicate yet unguarded elements–such as a piece that included a pile of cigarette ash on the museum’s floor-that evoked a strong tactile desire.

These strange installations purposefully and effectively heightened the blurred boundaries between art and garbage–a main motif in Hammons’ works. The works dramatically and sometimes playfully toed the line between their high-art physical surroundings and their inconspicuous urban origins in a way that would have been impossible without the actual museum space. I therefore found the installation of the exhibit to create a much more effective and evocative dialogue with the Bourse de Commerce than the Ray exhibit.

The other two exhibits were relatively detached from the physical museum in comparison, so I will leave them for another writer to digest. Based on my analysis of the previous three exhibits alone, I believe that the Bourse de Commerce is an extremely interesting exhibition space and has the potentially to be used in ways that heighten and contribute to the art. However, it is also a non-neutral space, and needs to be carefully considered in the curation and installation of exhibits.

One thought on “The Pinault Collection at the Bourse de Commerce

  1. Shira, this is a wonderfully precise account of the works currently on display at the Pinault Collection. Considering the unusual architecture of the building, I think it was a good move to organize your blog through the installation strategies of the different exhibitions. This also enabled a kind of map that associates, and differentiates, the different works, which I found to be very interesting and useful. The primary important contrast, as you point out, is between Ray and Hamons. I am an admirer of Ray’s work, but this exhibit brings out a kind of schoolboy humor that I found to be off-putting, even though there are individual works that I found to be quite powerful, especially the baroque Christ. In contrast, Hamon’s work stands out even more powerfully as critique, especially in a museum funded by a luxury brand. You are observant to point out Hamon’s interest in the aesthetic transfiguration of trash, though I prefer to call it, “street recycling.” 😉 Excellent!

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