Alienation.: Exit Through the Gift Shop at the Espace Pierre Cardin (an appropriate paradox)

Two weeks ago I’ve received a personal invitation [ :-) ]to a street art exhibition at the Espace Pierre Cardin close to La Concorde realized under the patronage of La Fondation Ricard with the collection of Nicolas Laugero Lasserre.

The exhibition opening was accompanied by a projection of Bansky’s film Exit Through the Gift Shop . My friend Emilie from Brussels joined me at the exhibition and we did a tour between works of Banksy, Shepard Fairey, Speedy Graphito, Space Invader, Miss Tic, Dran, Jérôme Mesnager, and Miss Van which I’ve just wrote an article on if you want to have a look.

Miss Van Article on CANALSTREET.TV

The room was full of overstylished people, hungry of camera lenses in order to appear even partially (a distinguishable hair cut in the background is sufficient) on the coolest blogs. After 10 hours at my office, I looked like a little panda with my mascara drawing big black rings under my eyes. As usual, I didn’t feel at my place wearing a coat while the temperature was nearly tropical so I just went to the projection room where I waited for the crowd to come in.

The film starts, we see Banksy hidden under a hooded sweater(Instantly I felt more at my place) and explaining that he is not the protagonist. Then, we meet Thierry Guetta, a crazy funny character with an (very= XIX century) incredible old fashion style with spit curls, that has the obsession of filming every moment of his life. Thierry is the cousin of the French street artist Space Invader and starts filming him before meeting the rest of the street artist superstars. Without any desire behind of putting the rushes together, he kept following Shepard Fairey, Space Invader and even…Banksy and starting building the biggest archive files of the street art movement. Banksy realizing that he was not a real filmmaker but a simple mental deficient man holding a camera advised him to go back to his street art practice and to organize a small exhibition. There, the film starts taking all its sense, after a first documentary part seeping into the real works-in-progress, the last part is an acerbic critic of the art world illustrated by the making-of a supermediated artist in a month just with illusion, communication unblessed of talent. An ambivalent work right in between fiction and reality.

And it is precisely the reason why I found it funny to be there with all these snobbish people working in the so-called artworld watching this man in the shadow giving them back the hypocrisy of their daily lives

Miss Van