Normes Corps @ Palais de Tokyo

Cathy de Monchaux, Studio, Wounds, and Battles. Desire is the Reiteration of Hope, 2026 

I am always on the hunt for exhibitions without hoards of visitors and inspired by the promise of empty halls, I went to the Palais de Tokyo last Friday night.There is a large diversity of work on display throughout the building, loosely cohering around the theme of bodies on the margins. I was struck by how often the works challenged, reappropriated, or simply drew to attention the ways in which the design and construction of public space rarely pay attention to those who are not able bodied, or are without power in the social and cultural world. A lovely installation by Benoît Pieron, for example, sees street lights filled with confetti in liquid, reminding of snow globes. Rather than having lights guide our path or keep us safe in a dark street, Pieron's installation has us fascinated by the shimmering movement of the lint. A bench next to one of the light posts encourages us to look at, rather than, be guided by, light. Behaving in a way not prescribed by the organization of public space, Pieron challenges it through inversion.

Benoît Pieron, Vernis à Ombre, 2026
Installation View

Many of the works left no doubt that public space is commanded over by men. Among the exhibits is a film by Pauline Curnier Jardin and the Feel Good Cooperative made together with street workers during lockdown in the EUR quartier of Rome. Made to mark the "celebration" of Christopher Columbus's discovery of the United States La Colonne della Colombo shows sex workers in the quartier imagined by Mussolini to celebrate fascism. It was empowering to watch their appropriation of the space—which today is actually a quartier of ghettoization—to celebrate people who are otherwise downtrodden. In full costume, seemingly happy to perform for the camera, the street workers indulged both live and film audiences in a carnavalesque, thus subversive, romp filled with humour and wit.

Pauline Curnier Jardin, La Colonne della Colombo, 2023

Another striking film shows aging women in prison, communicating with each other, creating community through the walls, much to the chagrin of a young male guard. Qu'un sang Impure (2019) is clearly drawing on Jean Genet's Un Chant d'Amour (1950) as we see the women passing gum, exhaling smoke, and expressing desire through the walls. However, unlike Genet's film, neither the women nor the film are restrained. The arousal, masturbation, and ecstasy of women often assumed to be sexually barren, is full throttle and confronting. We do not see genitalia though there is explicit masturbation, leaving nothing to the imagination. It is, once again, refreshing and liberating to see people so often cast out by those who dictate cultural and social desire, ignoring the norms and conventions. 

Pauline Curnier Jardin, Qu'un sang Impure, 2019

For me, the most striking in the suite of exhibitions was Studio, Wounds, and Battles. Desire is the Reiteration of Hope by British born artist Cathy de Monchaux. Doing justice to the intricacy and vastness of her work is almost impossible. Unicorns and other mythical creatures, pregnant women, bodies wrapped in what might be bandages or simple cloths, tightly wound to imprison, immersed in forests of intricately formed landscapes, a snake with skin covered in mouths that could easily be mistaken for vaginas, and the fantasies continue. Each piece is meticulously hand made from wire, paper, plaster, leather, rubber, velvet, woven, tied, wrapped and studded. The sculptures are spellbinding, and we don't know whether to be amazed, repulsed, or to recoil from their intimacies. Also included in the display of her work is a room whose walls are filled with drawings, ideas, early works from her studio. In it, we find an artist taken up with a forthright argument about women, the environment, and the entrapment of both in history, culture, and the world that we live in. It was exciting to discover de Monchaux's impressive work. 

Cathy de Monchaux, Maud's Pink, 1999

This is only a taste of what is on display at the Palais de Tokyo in Normes Corps. What a breath of fresh air to be at the Palais de Tokyo, not only to see some interesting, some brilliant, some puzzling art. The quiet and all but empty halls of the Palais de Tokyo were sheer pleasure after battling through crowds at some of the major exhibitions around town. And in spite of the relative calm, the art was filled with an energy that filled me with inspiration. It was also delightful to see so many young people in the museum, not only looking at art, but chatting, relaxing, and also enjoying the peaceful and generative atmosphere. 

Wolfgang Tillmans, Nothing could have prepared us. Everything could have prepared us @ Centre Pompidou

Installation view on empty shelves of the public library

German photographer Wolfgang Tillmans has been given carte blanche at the Pompidou Centre for a few months before the cultural mecca shuts down for five years of renovations. The simple activity of entering the Pompidou to visit this exhibition is a novel experience, even for those of us who are regulars. Visitors must cross the empty ground floor, walk up stairs, then take an escalator through a space not previously accessible to the public. On arrival at the second floor, having completed this unusual traversal of space, we enter the old public library. All other areas are boarded up. Even before I reached the entrance to Tillmans' exhibition, I was happy to be there. 

Installation view

I had taken my time to visit this exhibition because I am not a big Tillmans fan, but seeing so much of his work in one place — and in this space — was rewarding. Tillmans' photography is often not aesthetically pleasing, which is part of the point, and also, one of the reasons I am not always drawn in. That said, there are works that are highly aestheticized—particularly those in which he experiments with photographic materials and light. More often exhibited in France is Tillmans' vast collection of personal and public photographs resembling something like an amateur archive of images depicting his journey through a changing world. As a body of work, these photographs make visible every day life over the past fifty years. 

Wolfgang Tillmans, Resolute Rave, 2020

I was surprised to see so many hip young people at the exhibition, because Tillmans' world is historical and presumably unknown to many of the visitors. Because Tillmans is my generation, his world is very familiar, and hence, I  enjoyed seeing the breadth of his vision across decades. Under glass over five tables, Tillmans has curated photographs, programs, flyers, books from the past five decades. I spent a lot of time in Berlin in the 1990s and 2000s, and the immediate post-wall Berlin of Tillmans' generation was the same one that I skulked around in those years. The ecstasy nightclub scene, grunge living, and the freedom of a world seemingly without limits, in a united, undeveloped Berlin. It is a city that we will never know again in our lifetimes. Perusing Tillmans' photographs of Berlin in those years, I looked with nostalgia, and grateful to have been a part of during an extraordinary period in history. 

Wolfgang Tillmans, Renzo Piano, 2024

Tillmans was given carte blanche to do as he wished, and perhaps the most interesting thing about the exhibition is that his installations are always in dialogue with the space. Whether it is a mirrored tabletop at which we peer and see the exposed pipes and ducts of the Pompidou ceiling, empty shelves of the one time library—the shelves of the arts and humanities being emptied while the scientific ones are filled with space travel books to indicate the state of knowledge today—a photograph of Renzo Piano in front of the building he designed, or photographs of the space we are in, Tillmans constantly reflects on the radical architecture of the Pompidou building. 

Wolfgang Tillmans, Freischwimmer 234, 2024

Among Tillmans most stunning works are the Freischwimmer and Greifbar works - images that he makes using different light sources in the darkroom without a camera. Huge abstract works that look like ink dye playing on surfaces, and in some, creatures busily fanning across paper. The colours he finds through light play in the process of image production are sumptuous, always different. Similarly, the Silver works remind of carefully worked abstract paintings. Photographic paper is fed through used developer triggering chemical reactions. The resultant images are varied, appearing to be marked, blemished by the silver salts of the paper. Over time, we see that they are gorgeous, but enigmatic. And then, over time, their appearance as something that they are not, disappears.

Wolfgang Tillmans, Paper Drop (green), 2011

Lastly, a lot of fun was to be had by visitors who spent time lounging around, talking, searching at computer stations - just as they did in the old library. Nothing could have prepared us. Everything could have prepared us was an experience as much as it was a visit to an art exhibition.So yes, I had a fun time at the Tillmans' exhibition, and I would highly recommend it as a lovely goodbye to the Pompidou as it goes on its five year restoration journey. 

Do Ho Suh, Walk the House @ Tate Modern

Do Ho Suh, My Homes, 2010

As someone who has lived in different countries, I was fully immersed in and mesmerized by Do Ho Suh's Walk the House exhibition at Tate Modern. I was right there with him in his project to convince us of the ways that space and architecture are simply the tangible structures for housing identity, memory, and the experiences that give meaning to life. I immediately identified with his desire to find home—whatever that means—within walls, in the objects around him, the intuitive sense of the air that fills a space, the relationships developed therein. As a voyager, like him, I know that home has to be portable, able to be experienced in multiple apartments, carried on my back, across oceans and decades. But, I kept wondering if visitors rooted in a single country, culture, house or apartment were able to fully engage with the longing and yearning for belonging? These feelings are what really shape those of us who lead transitory lives.

Do Ho Suh, Blueprint, 2014

Immediately inside the exhibition, a series of works set a tone that will be instantly familiar to anyone who has spent a life in transition. Colourful images of homes on legs and wheels, rushing to the next location in My Homes (2010), or connected to a parachute flying across skies in (Haunting Home, 2019) are touching, playful, and all too real for those of us who have never sat still. Another work for which Do Ho Suh has used the same process— hundreds of multi-coloured threads embedded on paper—sees a facade of a New York apartment block with a figure blending into the tangled web of threads on the inside. The complex weave of life inside the front door, through the window, the emotions, experiences, woven into the fabric of daily life, that we nevertheless keep hidden from others are the substance of our life inside any space that we occupy. 

Do Ho Suh, Perfect Home: London, Horsham, New York, Berlin, Providence, Seoul, 2024

Do Ho Suh works in multiple media, but I especially enjoyed his use of fabric. In a work such as Perfect Home (2024), handles, locks, sockets, wall telephones, bells, keypads from multiple apartments in which the artist has lived are integrated into a transparent polyester model of his London apartment. Visitors are invited to walk through the space as well as around it, watching others as shadows—like ghosts—on the other side, removing the distinction between inside and outside, and with it the certainty of who occupies and who is locked out. Bringing together fixtures from multiple apartments across borders and oceans, cultures and customs, Do Ho Suh's Perfect Home is not fixed in time; it is an accumulation of times and spaces. The perfect home is marked by entrances and exits, the turning on and off of a light switch. Home, in this work is defined by the transitional, the motion between here and there. Similtaneously, home is the familiar, yet mundane things that we hold onto as if they were forever.   

Do Ho Suh, Nests, 2024

Thanks to the different forms and fabrics of his installations, the exhibition is connected by ideas and feelings about home and our relationships to spaces. Dong In Apartments (2022) is a video reconstruction of decaying modernist apartment blocks in Seoul shortly before their destruction. The camera halts at windows, furniture, floors, and walls, as if to document loss, searching for the crevices where memories live. Chairs remember the person who sat in them, the people who breathed the air are still there, the furniture arranged to bring back the lives whose stories are told by the walls. The film reminds us that space is not static, because time doesn't sit still, that the thresholds and props of our lives keep moving, if only, as is the case in this film, into demolition and another living and working space.

Do Ho Suh, Robin Hood Gardens, 2018
Film still

Houses, spaces, buildings carry memories inside their walls, the feeling of the air, the layout of the walls become so familiar that we navigate them intuitively, our eyes closed. Spaces created in concrete and steel look different when others are next to us, inside together. For Do Ho Suh, we carry this baggage on our backs, wherever we go. For him, Home is a feeling inside of which we are surrounded by the mess of our emotions and senses, nothing to do with the walls themselves. Across the exhibition, as we move through passageways, around fabric sculptures, up close to threaded images, we find the often invisible threads that bind us together across generations, oceans, and cultures. For all of the physical journeying that we undertake, the material that brings life to the notion of home, for Do Ho Suh, these threads, have both a material and non-material existence. And despite the physical existence of the walls around us, and the emphasis we place on the intransigence of objects, the overwhelming message of the exhibition is that home is carried inside us. 

Kate MccGwire & Mathieu Dufois, Ce monde-ce et l'autre @ la galerie particulière

Kate Mccgwire, Squall, 2017

I was very happy to kick start the season’s gallery visits with this exhibition at my local gallery, la galerie particulière, a joint show of Kate Mccgwire and Mathieu Dufois, Ce monde-ci et l’autre. The juxtaposition of two artists whose work is not obviously connected produces fascinating results, emphasizing the other worldliness in each suggested by the title Ce monde-ci et l’autre. Mathieu Dufois’s work, which I didn’t previously know, is conceptually and visually compelling. Dufois produced the works on view in this exhibition while at a residency in the Vallée Vézère, in the prehistoric world of the Dordogne. Many will know the ancient cave drawings of bison and other bovine animals from Werner Herzog’s 2010 film, Cave of Forgotten Dreams documentary on the miraculously preserved images.

Mathieu Dufois, The Herd 2, 2017

Dufois transfers archival photographic images, usually taken at night, of animals to drawings, and in that transference he claims to be bringing the past to life. While the animals in his images are not the same cave drawings, they do look like ghosts are racing away from lights under which they are visually trapped. The animal forms are like apparitions not meant to be discovered, not meant to be visible, who have accidently stumbled into the light. In other of Dufois’s images, the light looks to be a spotlight that effectively puts them on a stage, and consequently, the animals begin to perform for the camera. The images play with time, representation and the ancient world of the lost, hidden animals. It’s just that they happen to come out at night, happen to be caught by the camera. Dufois talks a lot about questions of memory being triggered by the old images, but if it’s another world at stake here, it is something and somewhere more mysterious and more unreachable than the historical past.

 

Kate Mccgwire, Swarm, 2018

In contrast, Kate Mccgwire makes sculptures that are so present they are unnerving to the point where they become frightening. That said, I must say, since I was familiar with her feathered forms in glass cabinets, I wasn’t as creeped out as I was the first time I saw them. The titles of her work have the sense of something crawling and shaking on the skin. Swarm, 2018, Squall, 2017, Tremor, 2018 on display here are her familiar feathered compositions and creations that on one level we want to resemble birds, but on another, have no relation to the living flying creatures. The sculptures draw us up close and we admire the pretty patterns of the feathers and then we recoil as, over time, they take on characteristics of being alive. Mccgwire’s works are otherworldly in that they sit somewhere between the sinister and the beautiful, the natural and the man made, the living and the dead. If we look at them for too long, we start to fear they might suddenly burst out of their cabinets and attack us. On a more serious note, her work challenges the way we look, where we stand in relation to a piece of art, and draws attention to our desire to make the unknown knowable.

teamLab Au-delà des limites @ la Villette

Les Fleurs et personnes ne peuvent être contrôlées,
mais elles vivent ensemble

teamLab is a Japanese group of artists, programmers, engineers, architects, mathematicians and animators that have turned the Grande Hall de La Villette into an immersive, interactive experience for the whole family. On a sweltering hot Paris afternoon, there were kids of all ages—from 5 to 75—wandering, lying, sitting, dreaming and interacting with the imagescapes in au-delà des limites.

 

La paix est possible même sans ordre

The images are design innovations before they are aesthetically challenging or conceptually interesting. The walls, floors and, in one room, screens are overtaken with fully interactive image narratives, some of which have no beginning and no end. Others are clearly story narratives, though not of the cause and effect kind. Children loved in particular the installations that required full interaction from the visitors: works activated and further developed by touching, moving along or towards the wall. The thrill was in the process of creating images rather than in the images created. 

 

A visitor walking past the above installation

Two of the installations invite visitors to sit on the floor and not just watch, but allow the constantly moving procession of images to wash over them. For these, one in the biggest space and the other in a small room, I sat at the edge of the room, others lay in the middle, and still others walked around. The music and images together (both electronically generated) were so hypnotic that I fell asleep. In the heat of the non-air-conditioned former abattoir, lulled by images and sounds in motion, was a surprisingly restful experience.

 
Univers de particules d'eau dans Au-delà des limites

The installations are a coming together of electronic and organic, technology and nature, human, and flora and fauna. We watch sunflowers grow, birds and butterflies flying, flowers blooming, stars falling water cascading, and figures walking. The exhibition as a whole is a living digital organism constantly churning out new images that make a sharp break with our daily lives, thus whisking us off to a dreamlike world. While I did think the world created was more interesting from a technological and design perspective, the effect of being lulled into an organic world of pure relaxation by the computer generated in a former abattoir was interesting.