Inspiring Conversations
From the dawn of civilization, spaces fostering creativity have sparked the human spirit.
Think of the Greek mouseion, where the Muses once resided, inspiring artists and thinkers alike.
My passion for museums has always provided a wellspring of inspiration, especially during my wanderings through the breathtaking galleries of Paris.
Though I’ve spent countless hours soaking up the beauty around me, I had yet to experience a full night surrounded by such artistic wonder.
Last year, while I was in Italy to cover a museum opening, fate led me to meet Laurent Le Bon, the president of the Centre Pompidou.
In our brief conversation, I shared my yearning to explore the museum after dark, and Le Bon readily embraced the notion, noting that it fit seamlessly with his vision for the museum’s future.
Subsequently, during a follow-up discussion, the Pompidou team revealed that no journalist had previously been granted this exclusive opportunity.
Usually, film crews wrap up their shoots by 1 AM, leaving the museum in silence.
I would have the honor of being accompanied by Francine, the esteemed head of security, affectionately dubbed “Tinker Bell.” With nearly twenty years at the Pompidou, she was the only woman in such a prestigious role.
Though the highly anticipated “Surrealism” exhibition remained off-limits due to insurance restrictions, a plethora of other experiences awaited us.
The Nocturnal Journey
On a brisk December night at 8 PM, I rendezvoused with Francine at a discreet entrance.
We ascended to a multifunctional area on the sixth floor, reminiscent of an Art Basel Paris press conference I had attended that year.
This cozy nook would serve as my temporary base while the museum prepared to close for the evening.
Admittedly, a plush sleeping bag awaited me on the couch, but I was resolute about staying awake; the sprawling, 80,700-square-foot marvel designed by Piano & Rogers beckoned me to explore its hidden treasures.
As the clock neared 8:45 PM, a pre-recorded voice announced the upcoming closure, nudging visitors to gradually exit the galleries.
By 9:45 PM, the beloved Bibliothèque Publique d’Information on the third floor also closed its doors, evoking reluctance from familiar patrons, affectionately referred to as Barracuda and Jesus.
Approaching 11:30 PM, the Forum on the ground floor fell into peaceful silence, immersing us in tranquility—myself and Francine, the last guardians of the Pompidou before it embarked on a five-year intermission.
When midnight approached, Francine led me to the fifth floor, where I would meet the renowned French photographer Antoine d’Agata, a prominent figure at Magnum Photos, celebrated for his gripping depictions of addiction and conflict.
He had spent nearly five months transforming Room 21B—formerly a screening room—into a creative studio as part of a project titled “Méthode.” Le Bon had invited d’Agata to create a space designated for reflection and artistic exploration, with striking black walls and metal frameworks adorned by photographs, cameras, and proofs of his forthcoming book.
D’Agata elaborated on his choice of this unusual residency over a conventional exhibition, expressing his need for a dedicated environment to organize his personal archive and thoughts.
He articulated a sense of entrapment due to unfinished projects and welcomed the chance to regain his freedom and clarity.
Hidden Treasures and Reflections
Following two captivating hours of conversation, we bid farewell just after 2 AM, coinciding with the closure of the rooftop Restaurant Georges.
With d’Agata’s departure, I turned my gaze to the permanent collection, which houses approximately 2,000 masterpieces among the Centre Pompidou’s grand total of over 140,000 works—boasting the title of Europe’s largest collection of modern and contemporary art, second only to New York’s Museum of Modern Art.
Surprisingly, the galleries retained their radiant glow long after the Forum’s lights dimmed.
In that serene nocturnal environment, free from the usual hustle and bustle, the Pompidou’s artistic wonders revealed themselves in an entirely new manner.
I found myself captivated by the vibrant abstract works of Sonia and Robert Delaunay, particularly a mesmerizing double-sided piece featuring Robert’s poignant self-portrait alongside a stunning landscape.
My journey continued to an enchanting untitled painting by Karl Godeg from 1962, where the shimmering gold shape contrasted beautifully against a deep, dark background—an evocative imagery reminiscent of moonlight in a twilight sky.
In the Marc Chagall gallery, I lay beneath the enchanting Les mariés et la tour Eiffel (1938–39), feeling as if I were one of the newlyweds gliding across Paris atop a stately white rooster.
Next, I stumbled into a striking crimson gallery showcasing Barbara Chase-Riboud’s exhibition, “Everytime A Knot is Undone, A God is Released.” The monumental sculptures displayed across eight sites in Paris delighted the senses, with a vibrant interplay of textiles and bronze igniting my excitement.
As we discussed the museum’s fascinating history, Francine illuminated how the piazza below had once served as a cour des miracles, the pre-modern slums that inspired Victor Hugo’s legendary tale, Les Misérables.
This thought electrified me with its historical weight.
As the clock struck 3 AM, we ventured down to “floor 21,” the museum’s lower level, where hidden tunnels connect the Centre Pompidou to the esteemed Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique (IRCAM).
This rare pathway, typically off-limits, filled me with exhilaration as we explored its secretive charm.
It was time for a much-needed coffee break.
As we sipped our drinks, a man appeared from a nearby room, a sleeping bag in hand—a testament to the all-nighter culture among researchers at IRCAM.
Mindful of the slumbering occupants, we quietly left the area and encountered a woman at the reception desk, realizing the early morning hour was drawing near.
Reentering the Centre Pompidou, we stumbled upon the dedicated cleaning staff beginning their daily routine to restore the museum’s brilliance.
They playfully tried to teach me their efficient dusting strategies, transforming their work into a lively dance, all set to the sound of cheerful radio tunes.
While we awaited the restorers, Francine and I shared warmth and laughter, but soon it was time for me to take my leave.
As 10 AM approached, signaling the library’s imminent opening and the arrival of eager visitors, I realized my extraordinary night had come to an end.
Yet, I departed with a heart full of inspiration, confident that the enchantment of the Centre Pompidou would stay with me long after I had gone.