A new salon in Paris

Paris arrived quietly. A narrow room off a courtyard in the 3rd, tall windows that catch the late afternoon, walls the color of unbleached linen. We spent a week just sitting in it before we moved a single piece in — before we hung a nail, before we set a chair against the wall, before we let anyone know it was ours.

The address will not be published. Collectors who visit will be sent a small card the week before, hand-numbered, with the door code written in graphite. That is the whole invitation. There is no sign on the street.

What the salon is

The salon is not a gallery. There are no opening hours, no press list, no gift shop. It is a room where collectors can come to sit with the work, to talk with the studio, and to see pieces that never travel far from where they were made. A kettle in the corner. A record player. Two chairs that do not match on purpose.

We wanted somewhere that felt like a friend's apartment rather than an institution. The kind of place where you might spend two hours in front of a single canvas and not feel the time move. Where a conversation about a piece is allowed to wander into the weather, into a book you both read years ago, and back again.

"A room where the work is allowed to be quiet. That was the whole brief."

The 2022 piece

Alongside the room, we acquired a rare piece from the 2022 series — one of the few that had stayed in a private collection since it was first shown. It came back to us in its original crate, wrapped in the same glassine we sent it out in, with a hand-written note from the previous owner tucked into the back of the frame. We have not opened the note. We will pass it on with the work.

The piece will anchor a small, single-piece drop next month. Not an edition, not a print — the one work, offered once, to one collector. Verified collectors on the list will receive an early note ten days before it opens. There will be no waitlist after that.

What comes next

There will be a handful of these salons over the next year. Not many. Each one chosen because the room already had something to say before we walked in — a floor with the right grain, a window that faced the correct direction in October, a neighborhood where the noise of the city softened into something a painting could sit inside of.

We are not in a hurry. The next room will happen when it happens. If you are a collector and you would like to be told when the door opens, the concierge in the corner of this site can take your name.