An Article by Our French Correspondent L.D. (694 words, 4 min. read)
As I stepped into the newly reopened Grand Palais, I felt as though I were entering a sanctuary made of light. The vast glass nave (restored to its full splendor) bathed everything in a gentle, almost holy glow. But there was nothing quiet or restrained about what waited inside. No. This was Niki de Saint Phalle’s and Jean Tinguely’s vibrant and explosive world seen through the eye of Pontus Hultén. The exhibition unveils the powerful bond that united the two artists and their close collaborator. Fueled by passion and creativity, their alliance gave rise to a bold, revolutionary and deeply participatory form of art. And it was loud, joyful, dangerous, and defiantly feminine.
Gunshots and Paint Splashes: A Radical Beginning
The first galleries hit me like a punch. Her “tir” paintings (canvases that bleed color from real bullet wounds) stopped me cold. Red and black dripped across chaotic surfaces, created by the violence of gunfire. And yet, even in that violence, there was healing. I could almost hear her saying: “I had to break it to understand it. I had to wound it to set it free.”
“Shooting at art allowed me to shoot at myself, and at my own violence.” – Niki de Saint Phalle
There was trauma here. But also courage. Saint Phalle wasnot just making art, she was purging demons, one bullet at a time.
Nanas: Women Who Refuse to Shrink
Then, the mood shifted. Suddenly I was surrounded by joy. Giant, colorful, round-bellied Nanas spun like dancers in a cosmic ballet. They were painted in psychedelic blues, bubblegum pinks, yellows, greens, colors that seemed to sing. They did not care what anyone thought. They werenot small. They were not polite. They were powerful, maternal, sexy, absurd, and deeply human.
One towered over me, laughing. Another stood like a monument to freedom. And though they looked playful, they carried meaning: Niki’s answer to a world that tried to cage women. “Take up space,” they seemed to say. “Take all of it.”
Love, Machines, and Whimsy: The Tinguely Rooms
“Nosso Barco Tambor Terra is not just about Brazil; it’s about where we come from and whereIn a side gallery, machines creaked and sputtered to life. Here, Jean Tinguely—Saint Phalle’s partner in love and art—added his chaotic magic. Kinetic sculptures whirred like fantastical creatures, clanking and spinning without clear purpose. It felt like stumbling into a mad scientist’s playground. And I loved it. Togeher, Niki and Jean built a world where messiness was a virtue, and imagination ruled. Their collaboration was electric. are going.”
The Theater of the Intimate
Beyond the spectacle, there were quiet, tender moments too. A small room displayed her letters, journals, and photos. I lingered there, reading her handwriting, sometimes angry, sometimes joyful. In a film clip, she laughed mid-sentence, cigarette in hand, eyes gleaming. She was not hiding anything. Not her pain. Not her love. Not her madness. I felt close to her, as if she just stepped out of the room and left her heart behind for us to find.
The Tarot Garden and the Dream of Immersion
Toward the end, we were invited into the universe of her greatest dream: The Tarot Garden. Through photos, models, and videos, I walked its mosaic-covered sculptures, its hollow towers, its blazing suns and moons. Even though I was in Paris, I felt transported to Tuscany, where she spent years building a garden of symbols and spirits, a place where art swallows you whole. That dream, to live inside art, was alive and pulsing here.
A Farewell in Color
As I stepped back into the nave of the Grand Palais, I paused. The light filtered down like confetti, catching the rainbow reflections of Saint Phalle’s towering sculptures. I did not want to leave. This was an extraordinary experience, it was a carnival of emotion, a feminist scream, a spiritual dance, a celebration of art as rebellion, as therapy, as wild love.
I left with paint on my mind and color in my blood.
