Shedding new light on fine art

A €20 million renovation of the Musée D’Orsay in Paris has done wonders for its collection of iconic paintings, writes Alan O’Riordan

THE light is gently diffused, where once it glared through a huge glass canopy; the walls are deep grey, where once they were white. And the result of these two changes? The paintings’ colours leap from the walls, as you’ve never seen them before. Yes, the renovation of the Musée D’Orsay in Paris is a success, a stunning reworking of the famed museum.

What strikes you immediately on entering the museum’s centrepiece impressionist gallery — the “beating heart of the museum” in the words of its president Guy Cogeval — is the new vibrancy of the colours in these, some of the most famous and recognisable paintings in the world.

Manet’s Dejeuner sur l’Herbe is fittingly bold in its positioning, with the visitor greeted squarely by the unabashed eyes of the nude, whose skin, against the new walls is all the more contrasted against the clothes of her fellow picnickers. It is once again easy to imagine the scandalous irreverence of this painting. And next, a pair of Renoirs, Danse A La Ville and Dance A La Campagne, stand side by side, his palette of blue and white enlivened by the new contrast. It’s a signature effect of the renovated gallery: making us look again at images that might have been in danger of becoming wearily familiar.

The new galleries complete a €20 million two-year renovation that has been part financed by some of the museum’s big names hitting the road on lucrative tours around the world. Now the Monets, Manets, Renoirs, Degas, Van Goghs and Cezannes are back, in a gallery space that goes back to the future in its abandoning of the white walls that, during the last century, became almost the default setting for museums and galleries. White walls work, says Cogeval, for 20th and 21st century art, but with impressionists, he says, the white radiates, creating a halo around the works that kills the painting and prevents the revelation of their subtle contrasts.

And in the old Orsay, that halo effect was exacerbated by the pale polished stone floor which, lit from above by sunlight, created an uncomfortable glare. Of course, impressionism is all about light, and these paintings were meant to be lit naturally. Yet in such a large space, one big glass canopy proved simply too blunt an instrument. Now, artificial spotlights complement the diffused light from above, and can be modulated according to the light of the day. In fact, the halogen diode bulbs mimic sunlight so well, and are so finely tuned with the natural light on any given day, that they are easy to miss at first.

A final little touch comes with the signature porthole windows of this former train station. Now, you can walk right up to them and take in a view across the Seine and the Tuileries Gardens to the terraces of Rue Rivoli, with Sacre Couer and Montmartre looming in the background. It is arguably the finest vista in all of Paris — an almost gratuitous added extra in a room of such visual pleasures.

The darker walls also create a greater intimacy. During the recent property craze in Ireland, white walls were all the rage as people struggled to make their increasingly “bijou” homes seem bigger than they were. For a gallery the opposite is necessary and the grey creates a warmer and closer space. The works, says Guy Cogeval, were originally intended not for galleries but for private homes. The new galleries are more intimate and give one the impression of seeing a lot more in far fewer steps than before.

This domestic effect is carried on in the rooms below the impressionist galleries, especially the decorative arts collection, where the furniture now comes to life, liberated from display cases into bourgeois apartment scenes, complemented with paintings and sculptures.

Such mingling of furniture, sculpture and painting is now a feature across the museum, in keeping with the new, more smoothly flowing experience of the visitor who does not, as was once the case, find himself dipping in and out of little rooms and retracing his steps. Now, the circulation is more straightforward, with the lift shafts located at one end of the building, helping the logical flow between levels.

At least, that is the theory. At the time of writing, the reopening of the complete museum (it never actually closed fully during its two-year renovation) was, in true French style, delayed by a strike. But they treat strikes like bad weather here in Paris and carried on regardless, giving this writer the distinct pleasure of a private tour through its deserted salons.

This diffusion of the museum’s many highlights and the creation of numerous focal points continues with the relocation to their own level of the Van Goghs, Gaugins and the post-impressionists. The idea here is to ease the flow in the main gallery, which at times could resemble a metro station in August, something that was inimical to viewing the paintings, and, with all the increased humidity crowds bring, also damaging for the works. There is a lively interplay at work in the room shared by Van Gogh and Gaugin, their mutual influence apparent, even late in their careers when, having quarrelled, they were separated, Van Gogh in Auvers-sur-Oise and Gaugin seeing out his days in Polynesia.

This lively curatorial engagement has also rescued Toulouse Lautrec from his lonely corner, and created a more chronologically coherent path. There are also a couple of rooms which present snapshots across the permanent collection that change every couple of months according to a specific theme.

The Musée D’Orsay has turned 25 in style and its visitors now have even more to look forward to.