Beneath the majestic light shining through the glass roof of the Grand Palais, Art Basel Paris could almost be mistaken for a religious gathering. Nearly 200 galleries and more than 65,000 congregants made the pilgrimage to the 8th arrondissement for one of the art world's most important fairs. A celebration of art and wealth, prestige and power, the Paris iteration of Art Basel isn’t the most thrilling (Miami), nor the biggest (Basel), yet it has an unmistakable allure and a more humane scale.
It’s the fair’s first year at the Grand Palais, a glorious Beaux-Arts exhibition hall. The palace features ornate steel railings and soaring plate glass ceilings, which flood the space in a luminous light. When it opened for the 1900 Universal Exposition, the Grand Palais served as the site for France—then at its cultural and political zenith—to peacock its prowess for all the world to see. Over a hundred years later, France finds itself much diminished: Paris no longer the capital of the world, French abandoned as the lingua franca. Hosting an art fair as illustrious as Art Basel inside the Grand Palais therefore felt charged with meaning, at least for me. The French government had just completed a major restoration on the building and I couldn’t help but hear them, as well as the elite art world saying, Don’t count us out yet!
Walking through the maze of lanes, I was drawn into My House by American artist Tschabalala Self at Eva Presenhuber. Self remodeled the entire booth into a sort of home, the white cube’s floors and walls painted in vivid blue and lined with gold and ivory accents. The space could be a richly wallpapered bedroom—or a cage surrounded by the sky. This transformation creates an unsettling “home” for the artist’s colorful, darkly complex paintings and sculptures. My House references historic figures such as Sarah Baartman and Josephine Baker. In the early 19th century, Baartman was trafficked to France from present day South Africa whereas Baker fled the segregationist era United States for Paris. In France, Baartman faced trauma while Baker found a sense of freedom. My House suggests that a similar dynamic endures for many today, in France and beyond.
