"The Incontinence of French Journalism: the case of de Noirmont" by Eric Mircher

[This is a continuation of my translations of Eric Mircher's original articles.  Please read this introduction for the background behind this project.]

     The little world of Parisian art was recently in turmoil after an email sent by Monsieur Jérôme de Noirmont announcing the closing of his eponymous gallery on Avenue Matignon.

     Most of the newspapers, websites and other news outlets reprinted in unison the obfuscating words that Mr. de Noirmont used to account for the closing, citing “the noxious and ideological cultural climate of France,” or “the French fiscal overkill,” and all the rest.  We've heard the tune before, Gérard Depardieu had already set the tempo to the music.  One notable difference here, however, the art-dealing couple stealthily stated that they did not plan to expatriate themselves, and not fiscally, in particular.  The chorus of French voices would reply that one has to first have the choice and luxury of doing so.  And it is certainly this particular point that hurts.  

     To evoke any number of external factors to explain the closing of the Galérie Jérôme de Noirmont is indecent.  It is an indecency that does not trouble the gallery's namesake in these less than prosperous times.

     The de Noirmonts are penniless: this aristocratic family has been without the means to support their ambitions since long ago.  I, however, speak of the de Noirmont family in general and not specifically of  the particulars that had set up shop at Avenue Matignon amongst the art works that they promoted.  In fact, Jérôme de Noirmont astutely used an old aristocratic formula, he got together into a partnership, or rather, a marriage.  As such, Madame Dunoyer de Noirmont was born Fraikin, as in the family that owned one of the largest commercial vehicle fleet company in Europe.  Her father started his business after the Second World War, starting from a small delivery truck rental business.  He built this into an empire.  It is a truly remarkable achievement for a man who started with little and who created a European leader, which he sold just before his death in 2004, for a little over two billion euros.  So it is understood, Jérôme de Noirmont has done very well in building himself back up from aristocratic poverty and his journey from the Marché Serpette flea market at the Porte de Clignancourt of Paris, to the antique shop he had in the 12^th arrondissement, and finally finishing in beauty in his contemporary art gallery, which faces the five star Hôtel Le Bristol in the 8^th arrondissement of Paris.  One can only congratulate him: he was deft, shrewd, and hopefully also in love.

     Whatever the case, the journalists who covered the announced closing of the gallery reprinted the entirety of the argument from his email without reflection nor verification.  Béatrice de Rochebouët, the supposed “specialist of the art market” of Le Figaro even organized a written elegy to the orphaned artists of the art dealer.  Newspapers complained to no end of the never ending recession of the land and how could it be otherwise given that they recuperated the same exact texts and sound bites to the point of appearing to duplicate each other in their articles.  As for the art press,  it was more close-ended rehashing and regurgitation.  Only Judith Benamou-Huet of Les Echos looked beyond the news cycle, and was able to get the analysis of Daniel Templon on the story.  He was in Dubai, no doubt, at the art fair, and quipped: “when one quits at 50 years of age, it's because one no longer needs to work.”  And speaking of the current situation in France, the old art dealer said, “a decent situation but certainly difficult.”  One recognizes Mr. Templon's plain speak here, he never beats around the bush.  There is no one better than him, long established at the Rue Beaubourg, to give this analysis, as he more than any other knows the mysteries, the joys, and the pains, of being an art dealer.  He has lived through all the different stages of the business, surviving the run of bad luck, and he knows how to survive. Frankly speaking, he is not the nicest of persons, but he stays all the same the quintessential French art dealer because the beauty of the business resides fittingly in this ability to persevere despite all the vicissitudes, all the changing fashions, and all the vagaries of the personnel.  It is very much this persistence that art collectors compensate for with their loyalty: you have struggled with your artists, your clients, your politics, your taxes, well, we will follow you and your choices.  I remember an abrupt remark that Mr. Templon made when I told him of my desire to open an gallery, “one doesn't make a fortune with this.”  Close with a drumroll. 

     This will not be the case, and a long way off at that, for the de Noirmont couple, despite their small slice of the contemporary art dealing pie.  The propensity of Jérôme de Noirmont for that which is facile knows no end and his eponymous gallery was built by audacity but without vision.  His path resembles him, in fact.  Can one really speak of his support of artists, or of any remarkable discovery of talent, or of notable exhibitions in his case?  Very little, really.  Jeff Koons—a nice deal.  The Iranian-born graphic novelist and moviemaker Marjane Satrapi—flypaper for journalists.  Shirin Neshat—her greatest collector is French.  In fact, it all resembles and comes together.  One should point out that he did do real work in valorizing the photographs of Pierre et Gilles, but even though they were outsiders to fashion as well as art photography, they were already very comfortable long before their entry into the gallery.  All in all, very little to speak of for twenty years of art dealership under the veiled sun of happy Paris.

     Certainly, one does as one can and as one wishes with the four white walls of one's gallery.  Whether one is rich or poor, passionate or cynical, old or young, art dealers do not resemble each other.  Journalists should be counseled to go a bit further to research that which is behind the facade of an art dealer.  It is, in theory, the work of journalism, to gather information and to investigate.

     The price tag for picking up the lease of the space occupied by the closed gallery is said to be two million euros.  This, however, is not verified information and is no doubt slightly suspicious.  Art as social and real estate investment.  It's not certain that the father-in-law, who at 84 years of age still looked to invest in this “unhealthy country” would appreciate the gesture.  One is never spoiled by the in-laws.  

• Article written by Eric Mircher
• (Translated from French by Roy Forget)