By Chioma Nwoye

It has not been typical for contemporary museums to offer seating in a place of view for the art, but even less common for the seats to be a contributing piece within the exhibit. At Le Crédac, the Bote-tchu & Séllate (le Vallon) consisted of various unique groups of stools with a copy of the book, Bote-tchu & Séllate, amongst them. These stools mirror the content of the book as they were uniquely composed with an assortment of geometric wooden material, and did not conform to the typical form of a stool. I found myself very fond of not only the intended political message of these chairs, but their opportunity for practice in physical engagement as well.

Each of the 14 different variations of chairs were available to be sat in by spectators except the “kick-ass” or “bot-chu” stool. This seat is actually a one-legged stool commonly secured to the haunches of a milkmaid so that they may freely move amongst the cows to milk most efficiently while balancing on stable floors. I was greatly interested in the connection between this piece and the rest of Boudvin’s exhibit that references “anarchitect” Gordon Matta-Clark. Upon further reading in the material handed out by the museum desk attendant, it became clear that it is due to the original location of the object, Saint-Imiervalley, the birthplace of Swiss anarchism. 

Furthermore, I am interested in the Marxist lens of such a stool being included in this exhibit of dismantled cars. So often, dairy products are consumed beyond their local range and with little thought to their distant origin and hidden processing. Even going as far as to replace the position of a milkmaid with a machine in more industrial productions. The presence of a single non occupiable stool draws the audience’s attention amidst their focus of an already deconstructed and repurposed automobile. The stool forces the audience to consider how the industrialization that brought the car, an object of fascination throughout the exhibit, also has erased so much of the object’s connection to humanity and dairy consumers. Similar to the hidden labor invested in the car’s manufacturing and deconstruction, the stool is both an outcome and a tool of greater production. However, I wish this concept could be more explored by Boudvin in his personal work, with consideration to his direct role as a headlining artist—opposed to the less glamorized list of those supporting the showcase of his art.

Beyond the explicit political ties Boudvin makes between his art and anarchism, I find his inclusion of seating options to be liberating with a disability framework. Many contemporary museums, and overall buildings in Paris, lack the structural support for folks with a disability. From the large elevators to the front door, Le Crédac opens its showcase to an audience of diverse physical abilities. However, even for someone who greatly enjoys the walkability of Paris, I am very appreciative of a moment to not exert my physical body while experiencing a museum.

In addition to the stools offering a place of support for folks with disabilities, the stools allow for many with invisible disabilities to be more comfortable enjoying art. Viewers with sensory overload or similar symptoms may utilize the stools as places for centering or calmness. Although I value the potential for accessibility in the exhibit, I did find it to be limited in other ways as there was little assistance offered to sensory disabilities that would enhance the experience for an even broader audience. For example, the museum could have made their screening audible via noise-cancelling headphones to provide comfort and accessibility to their visitors who may be hard of hearing or neurodivergent. 

I found this experience to directly parallel my earlier visit to the Louvre. While the Louvre is fascinating in its quantity of art, I found it challenging to appreciate some of its content. While it may have been my partiality to contemporary art—specifically a want for more of a relevant political context in art, I found myself more able to engage with the art that had seating. Due to the size of the museum, and already feeling fatigued after a day of class, I was elated to find benches throughout the halls of Spanish art. In my moment of rest I was able to concentrate on something other than my energy levels, I was able to talk to peers and learn from their own interpretations and knowledge of historical content. In this I not only appreciated time to regroup, but time to socialize over a piece and form a more nuanced understanding of art that did not immediately spark my interest. 

Le Crédac offered its viewers a moment to truly sit with the art and reflect on it, rather than rush through out of irritability or disengagement. In my moments of examining and then using the stools, I was taken back into the present allowing me to individually focus on the art and experience. So often at our museum tours, it has felt like somewhat of a race against time to ensure that I can experience the entire exhibit within the proposed time—but with only three rooms and a 20 minute screening I felt the time allotted was adequate.

In not only including—but integrating and somewhat centering—seating in the exhibit, accessibility for folks with disabilities becomes a tangible reality rather than an isolating stop away from the art. When marginalized groups are brought to the center of art, it allows for a layered praxis and liberatory power in art. I hope that this aspect of the exhibit is not lost in able-bodied people’s visits as they find themselves enjoying the presence from a seated perspective. I can appreciate the efforts—intentional or accidental— made to support disabled audiences at Le Crédac. However, I wish to see stronger connections for those who don’t easily notice the support and more for invisible disabilities as well.