Introduction

Laurence Picot

Les années 1980 vibrionnent d’énergie. Dans leur tourbillon, une génération de créateurs a émergé, porteuse d’arts de vivre différents. Afin de donner chair à cette époque, en France, cet ouvrage a recueilli la parole d’un témoin des coulisses. Elisabeth Delacarte est l’une des seules dont la galerie, Avant-Scène, a perduré jusqu’à aujourd’hui. Depuis bientôt quarante ans, elle défend des artistes singuliers devenus incontournables en leur domaine. Un point commun entre eux transparaît dans les pages qui leur sont dédiées : ils ont changé de vie pour se consacrer au mobilier d’art. C’est aussi le cas d’Elisabeth. Son point de vue personnel éclaire de l’intérieur les mutations des arts décoratifs à la fin du xxe siècle. Cette histoire commence en 1981.

Cette année-là, le festival de Cannes décerne la Palme d’or à L’Homme de fer, le film d’Andrzej Wajda inspiré des récentes grèves en Pologne à l’origine de Solidarnosc. Un soutien symbolique du monde de la culture au premier syndicat libre des États communistes. L’élection présidentielle a porté le socialiste François Mitterrand à la tête du pays, suscitant une liesse jamais vue chez les jeunes. Il est vrai qu’un tiers de la population a moins de 20 ans, près de deux fois plus que de soixantenaires1. La peine de mort est abolie et le TGV inauguré en icône de l’innovation industrielle, censée ralentir une montée galopante du chômage inédite depuis les « trente glorieuses ».

Pendant que Myriam enlève le haut puis le bas sur les affiches placardées dans le pays, le ministre de la Culture Jack Lang autorise les radios libres. Les auditeurs y découvrent « Ashes to Ashes » par David Bowie, fredonnent « Chacun fait c’qui lui plaît » du duo Chagrin d’amour ou dansent au son d’« African Reggae » de Nina Hagen en pleurant Bob Marley tout juste disparu. Le grand public regarde toujours les shows variétés de Maritie et Gilbert Carpentier et apprend de la bouche d’Yves Mourousi qu’un cow-boy de série B a été élu président des États-Unis. L’événement planétaire reste pourtant le mariage féerique de Diana Spencer avec le prince de Galles, diffusé en mondovision.

En janvier 1981, Elisabeth Delacarte a 29 ans. Un père polytechnicien, comme son père avant lui, une mère issue de l’aristocratie remontant au Moyen Âge. Elle a été élevée avec ses trois sœurs cadettes dans un appartement du XVIIe arrondissement parisien meublé en « Louis, du XIV au XVI, ponctué de quelques incartades napoléoniennes 2 ». Pas d’études d’ingénieur au

The 1980s swarmed with energy. In this whirlwind, a generation of creators emerged, bearers of different arts associated with fine living. In order to give substance to this period in France, this work collects the words of a witness behind the scenes. Elisabeth Delacarte’s gallery, Avant-Scène, is one of the few from that time that has lasted until today. For nearly 40 years, she has defended singular artists who have become essential in their spheres. A commonality between them can be glimpsed in these pages: they all changed their lives to devote themselves to artistic furniture. This is also Elisabeth’s case. Her personal viewpoint illuminates, from the interior, the mutations in the decorative arts in the late 20th century. This story begins in 1981.

That year, the Festival de Cannes awarded the Palme d’Or to Man of Iron, Andrzej Wajda’s film inspired by the recent strikes in Poland that led to Solidarnosc. It was a symbolic act of support from the world of culture to the first free union in the communist countries. In France, the presidential election brought the socialist François Mitterrand to power, causing jubilation never before seen in young people. A third of the population was under 20, nearly twice as many as those in their sixties.1 The death penalty had been abolished and the TGV [high-speed train] was inaugurated as an icon of industrial innovation, supposed to slow down a runaway rise in unemployment not seen since the “Thirty Glorious Years” [1945–1975].

While Myriam removed the top then the bottom on posters plastered around the country, Jack Lang, the minister of culture, authorized free radio stations. Listeners discovered “Ashes to Ashes” by David Bowie, hummed “Chacun fait c’qui lui plait” by the duo Chagrin d’amour, and danced to the sound of “African Reggae” by Nina Hagen while weeping for Bob Marley, who had just died. The public still watched the variety shows of Maritie and Gilbert Carpentier, and learned directly from Yves Mourousi that an actor who starred in a series of cowboy B movies had been elected president of the United States. The main global event remained, however, the fairy-tale wedding of Diana Spencer and the Prince of Wales, broadcast throughout the world.

In January 1981, Elisabeth Delacarte was 29 years old. Her father had attended Polytechnic, as had his father before him, and her mother came from the aristocracy, dating back to the Middle Ages. She was raised with her three younger sisters in

Saint-Ouen, qu’elle se meuble en chinant. Un délicieux fouillis où dénicher des trésors. Son premier fils voit le jour en 1983 et elle participe à une autre naissance en décorant l’agence de pub Équateur, fondée par son mari.

Rares sont les boutiques où trouver l’inspiration. Gilles Derain chez Modernismes revendique la diversité de sa sélection de mobilier, luminaires et objets ayant en commun la perfection des formes. Il propose des rééditions des années 1920 à 1930, d’Eileen Gray ou Jacques Adnet. Autre lieu incontournable, Meubles et Fonctions de Pierre Perrigault. Il se rapproche de l’époque contemporaine avec le Scandinave Arne Jacobsen, père fondateur du design danois des années 1950, ou Pierre Paulin, célébré depuis les appartements du couple Pompidou à l’Élysée en 1971. Aucun réseau de diffusion n’existe pour les an apartment in the 17th arrondissement in Paris, furnished in “Louis, from the XIV to the XVI, studded with a few Napoleonic indiscretions.”2 She did not study engineering, to the great distress of her family, but received a masters in economics along with a bachelor’s degree in history from the Université PanthéonSorbonne. The job she had as a student in the Jacqueline Pérès fashion house, on the rue de Castiglione, became her profession.3

“Like today at the gallery, I did everything. What I liked the most was looking for fabrics at the suppliers, preparing sample plates to recommend to the customer, following the sewing to the last millimeter by the seamstresses, making sure to never propose the same thing. I learned rigor, precision and the luxury of the unique piece.”4 Elisabeth had just married Jean-François Variot, an engineer who graduated from Arts et Métiers and then became a publicist. Their bridal registry for tableware and silverware was filed with the Jansen house in Paris.

Founded in 1880, this decoration and furniture production company had 3,700 square meters of workshops on the rue Sabin, not far from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, which had remained the furniture district since the privileges granted by the Sun King.5 On the basis of its extraordinary collection of historic pieces, over 200 craftsmen made prestigious copies following professional standards. Its projects could have been a Who’s Who, with the Red Room in the White House under Kennedy, and interior design and decoration for the duchess of Windsor and the Shah of Iran.6 Suffice to say that a major surprise awaited Elisabeth on the upper floor of the private mansion on the rue Royal, with an exhibition of “improbable” furniture7 with strange forms in papier mâché and hand-wrought iron. “It was almost a joke given that the material and style were so different from the feats of traditional cabinetmaking and the gilding that surrounded them.”8 The creators of what resembled a moment of distraction by the management went by the name of Elizabeth Garouste and Mattia Bonetti. The newlywed Elisabeth did not notice that a small seed had just been planted in her mind by “unknown creators, outside of any movement.”9

The decorator in the spotlight at the time was Jacques Grange. Trained at the Boulle school, he created décor with hushed minimalist atmospheres, 1930s armchairs, and African sculptures in dark wood that captivated Yves Saint Laurent and Isabelle Adjani. At the opposite end of the spectrum was Jacques Gracia, an enthusiast of royal furniture, accumulating fabrics and furniture in order to “give off comfort, sensuality, pleasure,” as he would write, between the spirit of a boudoir that had a strong hint of the libertine about it and the splendor of a regent, for great names like Ornano and Mauboussin. Elisabeth remembers how “in the middle of the ad, each of them laid claim to his modernity with Le Corbusier’s chaise longue, table or sofas or Mallet-Stevens’ armchairs and chairs. They were black, at best deep gray, the most extravagant being the brown and cream of a cow’s hide, metal and smooth leather, straight, stripped-down lines, transparent glass.”10

7.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

Cornu et Malcourant, en haut à gauche, serre-livres Trône bronze finition or, 1988, édition Monnaie de Paris ; en haut à droite, lampe Rendez-vous à Bagdad, bronze patiné, 1987 ; en bas, table Taureau, acier laqué noir, verre, PVC et peau naturelle tendue, 1988.