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  • An Exhibition in Paris Reconsiders Minimalism for a Hyper-Mediated Age

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    “Minimal” is on view at La Bourse de Commerce — Pinault Collection through January 19, 2025. Courtesy Bourse de Commerce – Pinault Collection

    Minimalism emerged as both an act of resistance and a direct response to the exuberance of mass media and mass production—forces celebrated as progress that fundamentally reshaped how we relate to objects and to material reality itself. Seen from today’s vantage point, works made during the height of the movement in the 1960s and ’70s reveal a radical and strikingly timely philosophical and political interrogation of our modern sense of reality that feels particularly urgent in an era defined by the mediatization and spectacularization of the digital sphere.

    Against the promise of endless availability and the relentless cycles of production, circulation and consumption—including the infinite reproducibility of the digital image—Minimalism’s artists embraced an ascetic discipline of reduction, stripping the artwork to its essential terms and events while intensifying its effects. In doing so, they underscored how an object, through restraint, can shape perception and reconfigure the very space and architecture that contain it.

    Minimal,” a major exhibition that opened at La Bourse de Commerce in October, brings together over 100 works, including a core group drawn from François Pinault’s collection, alongside international loans from the Dia Foundation in New York and other institutions. Curated by Dia director Jessica Morgan, it traces, likely for the first time, both the diversity and the global reach of the movement launched by a generation of artists who initiated a radical approach to art that later took on different forms around the world.

    The exhibition unfolds as a journey that allows for multiple discoveries and rediscoveries, showcasing how artists from diverse cultural backgrounds across Asia, Europe, and North and South America similarly challenged traditional methods of art production and display. At its core is a fundamental reconsideration of the artwork’s placement in relation to the viewer and within the cyclical flow of energy and matter that underpins the cosmos itself.

    A dark room with gold threads forming an installation.A dark room with gold threads forming an installation.
    Lygia Pape’s Weaving Space. Photo: Nicolas Brasseur/Pinault Collection | Courtesy Projeto Lygia Pape

    The works in the show were born out of a shared attempt to stage raw encounters with matter and to engage the most primordial and authentic structures of human experience. Conceived with both conceptual and spiritual rigor, they privilege presence and perception over form, becoming experiential sites of “lived perception”—embodying an entire mode of thinking in an art object that places the physical self at the center of understanding the world.

    Philosophically, Minimalist artworks foreground a mature awareness of reality as inherently interrelational, something that arises only in the encounter between object, viewer and environment. A radical manifestation of this interdependence appears in the central installations by American artist Meg Webster, which dominate the Bourse’s scenic, frescoed rotunda. Conceived and realized in collaboration with natural processes, their final form stages a tense resistance to entropy, which inevitably alters their shape and appearance over time beyond any claim to human formal control or perfection. Natural processes are embedded within these seemingly simple structures, which ultimately draw an entire ecosystem into Tadao Ando’s spare architecture. Here, the total choreography matters as much as its individual components, as Webster constructs an interior landscape at the building’s core.

    Merging nature and culture, matter and energy, Webster’s process-based sculpture is infused with a prescient ecological consciousness. Poised between the elemental and the formal, between human-shaped material and natural transformation, her work prompts reflection on sustainability and our relationship to the earth—particularly resonant today as she receives long-overdue international attention through this presentation, which runs in conjunction with her year-long exhibition at Dia Beacon.

    A wide view of Meg Webster’s installation for “Minimal” shows several large geometric forms—a white cone, a rust-colored dome, a gold circular surface, a curved yellow wall, and a mound of living vegetation—arranged across the floor of the rotunda.A wide view of Meg Webster’s installation for “Minimal” shows several large geometric forms—a white cone, a rust-colored dome, a gold circular surface, a curved yellow wall, and a mound of living vegetation—arranged across the floor of the rotunda.
    Meg Webster works at Bourse de Commerce. Photo : Florent Michel / 11h45 / Pinault Collection

    If Minimalism has long been interpreted as an aesthetic reaction to the subjective overflow of Abstract Expressionism and the figuration of Pop Art, the global perspective and breadth of this exhibition make clear that the approach often extended far beyond a purely aesthetic exercise. In doing so, it prepared the conceptual ground for a substantial share of contemporary sculpture and Conceptual Art, pushing the logic of economy of means to the point of privileging the idea over its realization. This shift opened up possibilities for many contemporary artistic practices that operate beyond, or are no longer confined to, fixed traditional media.

    The exhibition is organized into seven thematic sections: Light, Mono-ha, Balance, Surface, Grid, Monochrome and Materialism. The titles signal the core elements these artists investigated in their inquiry into the most radical ways of translating reality through art reduced to its most essential components. Unadorned by any pretense of figuration or narrative and detached from the biographical identity of its maker, each work functions simultaneously as proposition and question.

    Underlying the pieces on view is a shared desire to situate the audience within the same perceptual field, calling for a bodily correspondence between artwork and viewer through scale and proximity. In many parts of the world, this reconceptualization of three-dimensional form and perception led to a dialogue with performance, whether through process-based making, choreographic collaboration or direct physical interaction with the work.

    The exhibition naturally includes the early generation of American artists most closely associated with the movement, including Donald Judd, Carl Andre and Dan Flavin, though they do not occupy center stage, reflecting an effort to decentralize and broaden the narrative. As at Dia, the show presents artists from the 1960s who pursued a similarly radical engagement with the canvas, exploring austerity and mathematical rigor through monochrome and grid-based structures. Figures such as Robert Ryman and Agnes Martin are represented by some of the most significant works drawn from Pinault’s collection.

    Particularly compelling is the dialogue established with parallel aesthetics emerging from markedly different cultural, philosophical and spiritual contexts outside the United States. Among these, the Japanese Mono-ha group offers one of the exhibition’s most resonant contributions. Pinault’s holdings include one of the most substantial collections of Mono-ha works outside Japan. Artists such as Lee Ufan, Kishio Suga, Koji Enokura, Susumu Koshimizu, Nobuo Sekine and Jiro Takamatsu foreground the interrelation of object, space and viewer, staging “things” together in their natural or industrially fabricated states. By embracing the delicate balance and tension produced by their transitory condition, these artists investigated a form of material intelligence, examining how matter retains identity even as form shifts, prioritizing material presence over sculptural expression and over any symbolic or linguistic framing.

    An installation view of the “Minimal” exhibition shows a rough stone block resting on a cracked sheet of glass placed directly on the floor, with a large dark rectangular metal panel leaning against the white wall in the background.An installation view of the “Minimal” exhibition shows a rough stone block resting on a cracked sheet of glass placed directly on the floor, with a large dark rectangular metal panel leaning against the white wall in the background.
    In Japan, the Mono-ha movement focused on bringing objects together in their natural, unaltered states and the interdependence of object, space and viewer. © Tadao Ando Architect & Associates, Niney et Marca Architectes, agence Pierre-Antoine Gatier. Photo: Nicolas Brasseur/Pinault Collection

    Another compelling perspective included in the exhibition is the organic and participatory reinterpretation of geometric abstraction developed in Brazil through the Neo-Concrete movement, exemplified by Lygia Pape, Lygia Clark and Hélio Oiticica. A capsule exhibition dedicated to Pape, “Weaving Space,” which opened a month earlier and runs concurrently, served as a prelude to “Minimal.” It traces key moments in her oeuvre, from Max Bill-inspired geometries to an increasingly organic and participatory use of abstraction, presenting works that range from her first abstract engravings to her monumental Livro Noite e Dia III (Book of Night and Day III) from 1963-76, alongside experimental films that emerged in response to Brazil’s sociopolitical context at the time. At the heart of the presentation is her poetic, full-room installation Ttéia 1, C (2003-2017), in which she literally weaves space into a new architectural structure using delicate gold threads, transforming the environment into a luminous and diaphanous site of exchange between physical presence and imagination, light and darkness.

    One of her most radical works, Divisor (1968), was restaged during the show’s opening weeks. As in its original enactment in Rio de Janeiro, a hundred participants moved as one beneath an immense perforated white sheet, forming a living metaphor for a shared social fabric. In this gentle merging of forms, hierarchy is suspended, and the work invites a collective, participatory meditation on equality, employing abstraction as a universal language that transcends individuality and binds participants within a shared structure.

    A wood farmed vetrine with black paintings with datesA wood farmed vetrine with black paintings with dates
    Kawara’s austere date paintings reflect Minimalism’s drive toward precision and restraint, inviting viewers to confront the passage of time. © Tadao Ando Architect & Associates, Niney et Marca Architectes, agence Pierre-Antoine Gatier. Photo : Nicolas Brasseur / Pinault Collection

    Occupying the entirety of the rotunda is On Kawara’s Minimal Chronology of Dated Paintings, forming a minimalist diary and record of personal and collective time. By painting the numbers that denote each passing day, Kawara creates a fragment of space and materiality in which the durational act of painting absorbs the multiplicity of events and meanings implied within a single date, set against the relentless flow of time. By confronting the idea that linear time itself is a conventional and ultimately arbitrary human construction, Kawara’s date paintings distill life to its most essential marker—time alone—aligning with Minimalism’s drive toward radical reduction through their emphasis on the viewer’s direct encounter with the present. Meanwhile, in Europe, movements such as Zero in Germany and Arte Povera in Italy pushed the boundaries of sculpture through minimalist vocabularies and a direct engagement with space as a hybrid, active presence.

    The additional perspectives and less expected figures presented in the Light section offer a fresh reading of how Minimalism enabled artists to investigate one of the most phenomenologically charged elements through which we access physical reality. In the 1960s and ’70s, light became a primary material. Artists including Dan Flavin, Nancy Holt, François Morellet, Robert Irwin, Mary Corse, Keith Sonnier and Chryssa worked with fluorescent tubes, neon, black light, projected light and natural illumination, driven by a broader inquiry into perception and immateriality as artificial and industrial lighting came to dominate the urban environment. Flavin’s fluorescent structures redefined spatial boundaries and architectural features, while Holt and Irwin explored the relational, phenomenological nature of light, focusing on how it organizes perception and bodily movement. Corse, meanwhile, experimented with Tesla coils and argon gas, producing works that appear to capture and hold light itself.

    Neon sculptures in a concrete covered underground space. Neon sculptures in a concrete covered underground space.
    Organized into seven thematic sections—Light, Mono-ha, Balance, Surface, Grid, Monochrome and Materialism—the exhibition foregrounds these distinct yet interconnected artistic developments. © Tadao Ando Architect & Associates, Niney et Marca Architectes, agence Pierre-Antoine Gatier. Photo: Nicolas Brasseur/Pinault Collection

    It is in these perspectives that we gain further evidence of how, through a minimalist language, these artists were already posing urgent questions that remain, or have become even more timely today. Ultimately, Minimal art, in its various declinations, was already probing the dynamics and structures that shape our relationship to reality and our physical position within a world of things transformed into products and meaning through human-made symbols and systems that often attempt to contain or neutralize, through illusion, the entropic nature of reality beyond human cognitive and sensory grasp.

    The emphasis in these works rests on the moment of encounter itself: the phenomenology of seeing before and beyond any process of signification. Form becomes secondary to process, presence and the inherent agency of materials. Through deconstruction and reduction, these works introduce profound existential doubts rather than offering closed propositions, redirecting attention to a pre-linguistic register of experience—the first contact with reality, which already carries its own phenomenological truth. What they propose is an epistemology grounded in dynamic, open-ended relationships with matter. In doing so, the works cultivate a heightened awareness of the sensory core of our experience of the world, our only access within the limits of embodied perception.

    In a culture saturated with mediated images and, increasingly, with algorithmic simulations and machine-generated forms, Minimalism restores the body as the primary filter and medium through which the world is apprehended—an insistence on embodied perception that feels newly urgent in a desensitized and increasingly alienated society, where digital mediation and elaboration govern, or can potentially substitute for, much of our experience of reality.

    An interior view of the “Minimal” exhibition shows a curved white gallery lined with sparse paintings and sculptures, including wall-mounted works and low geometric forms arranged across the floor.An interior view of the “Minimal” exhibition shows a curved white gallery lined with sparse paintings and sculptures, including wall-mounted works and low geometric forms arranged across the floor.
    The show’s intergenerational and cross-cultural perspectives challenge the American-dominated narrative of Minimalism. © Tadao Ando Architect & Associates, Niney et Marca Architectes, agence Pierre-Antoine Gatier. Photo: Nicolas Brasseur/Pinault Collection

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    An Exhibition in Paris Reconsiders Minimalism for a Hyper-Mediated Age

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    Elisa Carollo

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  • Lina Ghotmeh Is Reimagining Cultural Architecture for a Connected World

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    The architect behind landmark cultural projects at the British Museum and the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum discusses reimagining museums as evolving, participatory spaces. Kimberly Lloyd, Courtesy of LG—A

    Lina Ghotmeh, recognized on this year’s Art Power Index, is changing the global conversation between art, architecture and place. Based in Paris and raised in Beirut, Ghotmeh has emerged as one of the defining voices of a new architectural sensibility rooted in sustainability, memory and cultural dialogue, rather than spectacle. Her recent and forthcoming projects span continents and histories: the British Museum’s sweeping Western Range redesign, the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia, the Jadids’ Legacy Museum in Uzbekistan and Qatar’s Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Each project, in her words, sits “at the crossroads of this transformation—where local narratives meet global dialogues.”

    Ghotmeh’s approach, which she refers to as an “archaeology of the future,” treats architecture as both excavation and invention, a process of uncovering the social, material and emotional layers of a place before imagining what comes next. This philosophy took shape in her acclaimed Serpentine Pavilion in 2023, a table-like structure that beckoned visitors to sit, share and converse, turning architecture into an act of gathering.

    The shifting power dynamics in the art world, from the rise of voices across the Global South to the integration of technology and A.I., are redefining cultural institutions. Ghotmeh envisions museums as “living environments” that immerse audiences in the creative process and connect them to the broader human story art continues to tell. For the architect, buildings are never neutral containers but vessels for dialogue, resilience and renewal. In reimagining how and where art is experienced, Ghotmeh is rethinking culture itself as a space for belonging, continuity and care.

    What do you see as the most transformative shift in the art world power dynamics over the past year, and how has it impacted your own work or strategy?

    Over the past year, I’ve felt a profound shift in both voices and geography within the art world. We are finally witnessing the rise of influential perspectives from the Global South and other historically underrepresented regions. This expansion of voices is not only reshaping who gets to speak but also how and where art is being shown. It signals a move toward a more plural and inclusive understanding of art as a critical platform—one capable of engaging with the most pressing social, cultural and environmental questions of our time.

    This shift deeply informs the type of work I pursue and aligns with a trajectory I’ve been committed to for years. Projects such as designing Qatar’s National Pavilion at the Venice Biennale, the Jadid Museum in Uzbekistan, and the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia all sit at the crossroads of this transformation—where local narratives meet global dialogues.

    Similarly, reimagining the British Museum as a vessel for a truly global art history offers an opportunity to rethink cultural institutions as spaces of exchange rather than dominance. It’s an invitation to reframe how we tell the story of humanity through art—decentering traditional hierarchies and embracing a more interconnected, equitable cultural landscape.

    As the art market and industry continue to evolve, what role do you believe technology, globalization, and changing collector demographics will play in reshaping traditional power structures?

    Art not only reflects culture but actively shapes it, serving as both a social force and an economic driver. As collector demographics shift, we’re witnessing new modes of collecting and new ways of constructing cultural narratives—ones that move beyond Western-centric frameworks and embrace more diverse and interconnected perspectives.

    Technology, particularly A.I., is playing a transformative role in this process. It enables new kinds of artistic experiences and provides tools for reinterpreting and visualizing data in ways that were previously unimaginable. In our recent work with A.I. artists, for example, we’ve been exploring ways to visualize art histories from the Arab world. This process begins with the crucial task of collecting and structuring data that has long been overlooked or rendered invisible. Through this, knowledge and cultural memory that were once marginalized are reemerging, allowing for a more inclusive understanding of global art histories.

    In this sense, technology and globalization are not merely reshaping the market—they’re redistributing cultural power, enabling new voices, narratives and regions to participate in defining the future of art.

    Looking ahead, what unrealized opportunity or unmet need in the art ecosystem are you most excited to tackle in the coming year, and what will it take to make that vision a reality?

    I’m deeply interested in rethinking how we show art and in reaffirming its central role within society. I believe museums and cultural spaces should evolve into living environments—places that not only exhibit art but also immerse audiences in the creative process itself. Spaces where people can experience how art is made, why it matters, and how it continues to shape our collective consciousness.

    Art has accompanied humanity since its very beginnings—it is how we have sought to understand ourselves, substantiate our existence and give meaning to the world around us. Yet many institutions still treat it as something static or distant. The opportunity now lies in transforming museums into dynamic ecosystems of learning, participation and dialogue—bridging artists, communities and new technologies.

    Realizing this vision requires rethinking institutional models, fostering collaboration across disciplines and embracing innovation in both curation and architecture. Ultimately, it’s about restoring art’s fundamental purpose: to connect us more deeply to one another and to the shared human story we continue to write.

    You grew up in Beirut, a city with a complex history of destruction and rebuilding. How has that background shaped your approach to sustainability, resilience and place-making?

    Living in a city where buildings are constantly collapsing and rising again, you understand that architecture is never only physical—it’s social, emotional and deeply tied to survival. Sustainability, for me, comes from that consciousness: to build with care, to use what is available, to adapt rather than erase. In Beirut, you see nature reclaiming ruins, and people reinhabiting them with extraordinary creativity. That taught me that true resilience lies in continuity, in working with the traces and resources already present. Every project I design begins with that same listening to place, so that what emerges feels born from its ground rather than imposed upon it.

    You coined the term “archaeology of the future.” How do you balance uncovering historical traces and designing something genuinely new?

    “Archaeology of the future” is both a method and an ethic. It means that before drawing, we excavate—not with shovels, but with research and attention. We study a site’s geology, its crafts, its human stories, its past uses. But this act of uncovering is not nostalgic. The goal is to let those traces inspire something that speaks to today and tomorrow. In Stone Garden, the innovative technique of hand-plastered façade carries Beirut’s collective memory, echoing natural forms found in the city and belonging to the ground, yet its vertical form points to regeneration. The building rises as a novel form anchored in its place. In the Bahrain Pavilion for Expo 2025, we drew on traditional boatbuilding to create a light, demountable timber structure, entirely new but rooted in cultural memory. The past is not a model; it’s a fertile ground from which the new can grow.

    How does that translate when designing spaces meant to hold art—objects that carry their own histories and spiritual weight?

    Designing for art demands humility. These are spaces of encounter, between artworks, viewers and time itself. Architecture must offer silence and presence at once. The space should talk about the place where we are. Building in AlUla, for example, is an invitation to think of the galleries as earthly structures warmly welcoming art, all while framing nature. At the British Museum, we are working within a building dense with history, yet our aim is not to add another layer of authority but to open it up—to allow light, porosity and new readings of the collection.

    The architecture becomes a mediator, a frame that encourages reflection rather than spectacle. Some new spaces we are designing restore a lost feeling of openness, of sky, the use of local stone for the finish reminds us about the place we are in. I like to think of architecture as a vessel for dialogue, where both the art and the visitor can breathe, all while allowing us to dream. 

    Many contemporary buildings feel imposed rather than born of their surroundings. How do you resist that tendency in your own work?

    A building is not an exercise of style; it is an extraordinary place that needs to be inhabited. With my team, I begin each project with listening, to the land, the resources, the crafts, the wind, the people. Context is about an environment; it is not a constraint; it’s the material of the work. I try to design buildings that feel as though they could not exist anywhere else if they are meant to stay still in their place. In Normandy, the Hermès Workshops were built with bricks made from the site’s own earth. We worked with local brick makers and revived an artisanal work present for decades in the region. These gestures root the project in its environment. I think architecture should belong to its place as naturally as a tree grows from soil—it should feel inevitable, not imported.

    In redesigning major cultural and arts institutions, you are dealing not just with architecture, but with narratives, audience behaviors and institutional purpose. What can you tell us about the experience of collaborating with curators, conservators and communities?

    Architecture is the art of collaboration. It begins with an idea—a concept rooted in a place and informed by its history and context. From there, it becomes an act of orchestration: a dialogue among disciplines, a collaborative process in which all voices are heard, allowing the building to embody and integrate diverse perspectives and skills.

    In Qatar, we are currently working on several museum and exhibition projects. These are developed in close collaboration with curators, whose experience across different institutions brings depth and richness to the work. The community is also ever-present, through the ways people will use these spaces, the possibilities they create and the processes of making itself.
    I believe architecture is a means to guide knowledge and empower people through creation.

    What do you see as the most under-addressed challenge or challenges in cultural architecture at this moment?

    We still design too many cultural buildings as static monuments rather than evolving ecosystems. This risks alienating art and cultural spaces from the public, rendering them inaccessible, even though art is essential to our humanity and part of everyday life.

    The future demands openness and flexibility: spaces that can adapt to changing programs, technologies and communities. Another challenge lies in the diplomatic role of cultural spaces: in a world that may grow increasingly divided, museums and cultural institutions can serve as bridges between people, reminding us of our shared humanity while celebrating our differences as a source of richness. They are platforms for critical questions and spaces for meaningful dialogue.

    As Bruno Latour reminds us, “We have never been modern,” and this insight urges us to reconsider the artificial separation between culture, nature and technology. Cultural buildings must embody this continuity: becoming living, relational environments that connect human, material and ecological realities.

    Moreover, the ecological dimension of cultural spaces is an ever-growing concern. Museums remain among the most resource-intensive building types. We need to rethink how we conserve artworks, how we build, reuse and manage energy, all without compromising the sensorial and human experience of art.

    You often operate at the intersection of architecture, national identity and culture with projects like the Osaka Expo 2025 Bahrain Pavilion or the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia, slated to open in 2027. How do you think about the role of architecture in articulating both place and global aspiration?

    Architecture has the power to express identity while remaining open to the world. In Bahrain, the pavilion embodies the island’s maritime heritage—its wooden craftsmanship and its relationship to the sea—yet it also speaks of shared ecological values with Japan. In AlUla, surrounded by desert and archaeology, the Contemporary Art Museum will be a dialogue between landscape and art, history and the future. It suggests that the museum become a series of open pavilions, intertwined and interacting with nature. For me, global aspiration should not mean universality through sameness, but connection through specificity. The more rooted a building is, the more it resonates beyond its borders.

    When you imagine the art spaces of the future, what do they look and feel like?

    I imagine future cultural spaces like a kitchen—alive with cooks and guests in constant interaction. They thrive outside the box, in lively places where texture, light and life unfold intensely.

    These spaces will also extend into immaterial worlds. With the rise of digital platforms, we are invited to experience art in a new, hybrid dimension—one that merges the virtual and the physical. This deepens the need to intertwine both realms, to strengthen the sensoriality of the physical while embracing the possibilities of the digital.

    Museums and cultural spaces of the future will be lighter, more open and deeply connected to their environment. I imagine buildings that breathe—filled with natural light, porous thresholds and a tactile sense of material. Spaces that invite people to gather, not only to look. They will reuse what exists, evolve over time and dissolve the boundaries between art, nature and daily life. Above all, they will cultivate presence: places where people feel grounded, inspired and connected to one another through beauty and thought.

    Lina Ghotmeh Is Reimagining Cultural Architecture for a Connected World

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    The Editors

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