Pinault Collection at the newly-reopened Bourse de Commerce


A few days ago, I went to see the Pinault Collection's opening exhibition at the newly-renovated and reopened Bourse de Commerce.

It was good to see that, for this opening exhibition - actually called Ouverture - the curators didn't just go for a massive show of billionaire purchasing-power: big, glossy, hugely expensive, boring works that look like they were made specially for sale to tycoons. There was perhaps some of that - I really don't get Bertrand Lavier, who filled the ground-floor glass cases, or for that matter Martial Raysse, who opens the whole show with a big painting just inside the entrance. But the upstairs selection mixes art-world stars with young artists just starting out and others somewhere in-between, not always to the youngsters' advantage. As an example, Luc Tuymans (another one whose fame is beyond my understanding) is shown with Miriam Cahn, a Swiss artist, and Antonio Obá, a Brazilian born in 1983.

Urs Fischer's monumental installation, under the glass dome, of a Giambologna sculpture on a pedestal surrounded by various sorts of seating, including aeroplane seats, all of them candles and all lit, melting, and dribbling wax, is impressive. I also particularly liked some of David Hammons' work, using found objects, and made some interesting discoveries (no surprise, as I know so little): Rudolf Stingel's intriguing photo-realistic portraits, or Kerry James Marshall's colourful, graphic paintings.

But for me, one work in particular stood out from everything else in the building, taking things to another level: Peter Doig's disturbing masterpiece Bather (Night Wave). The one thing in the show I'd have loved to take home, and in my mind I did, thinking about little else for hours afterwards.


The building is a former commodities exchange from the late 19th century, with some parts (and the circular plan) going back to an earlier corn exchange, and a free-standing column, once used as an observatory and now supporting a light installation by Philippe Parreno, dating back to one of Catherine de Medici's houses. The frescoes around the dome and maps of trade routes painted on a ground-floor wall are obvious colonial references. But they've been carefully restored and the works on show are allowed to resonate richly with them. The international assortment of ephemeral chairs in Fischer's installation, right under the frescoes, for example, or the deliberate siting of a skeletal prison cell (David Hammons' Minimum Security) next to the maps. But there are plenty of other examples, and as in the end it's the art that wins, this seems to me a more sensible approach to the past than toppling statues and 'cancelling' it.

This is a link to the exhibition website. A Google search will throw up plenty of  reviews in various languages with more intelligent, informed comment on the works than mine.

Some more of my photos:











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