A Man of Style

Courtesy Martine Franck/Magnum Photos

Saint Laurent with Bergé in 1977

Courtesy Sichov/Sipa

Pablo Picasso Mark Rothko Jackson Pollock Fernand Leger J Goya Matisse Barnett Newman YSL/Bergé Auction Fetches Double Its Estimate

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For more than 40 years, the design icon Yves Saint Laurent, who died last June at 71, was the king of Parisian fashion and one of the most celebrated Frenchmen alive. Throughout his career, standing at his side as associate, manager, partner, confidant and longtime lover was Pierre Bergé. Over decades of collecting, the pair amassed hundreds of artworks and precious objects, from Roman marbles and Qing Dynasty sculptures to Picassos and the finest Art Deco furniture pieces, many of which elegantly filled Saint Laurent’s Rue de Babylone duplex and, later, Bergé’s spread in the Rue Bonaparte hôtel particulier where Édouard Manet was born.

This month, Bergé, 78, is selling the majority of the treasures in a 700-lot auction, to take place from the 23rd through the 25th at the Grand Palais, in Paris. It is estimated to earn between €200 million and €300 million ($280-560 million), a sum that, if achieved, would make it one of the most significant single-owner sales of all time. Christie’s is handling it in conjunction with Pierre Bergé & Associés (PBA), the firm that Bergé founded in 2002 after failing in an attempt to buy out and unite the 110 auctioneers that form Drouot, Paris’s historic (some would say archaic) auction house. The entrepreneur has applied to PBA, which handles fine art, books, design, jewelry, tribal art, furniture and antiquities in Paris and Brussels, the same business acumen that helped make ysl the global brand that he and Saint Laurent sold for more than $650 million in 1993.

In addition to PBA, Bergé runs the Pierre Bergé-Yves Saint Laurent Foundation, which preserves and exhibits YSL creations, and plans to use the proceeds from the February sale to launch a new organization to fight aids. He has also restored and owns the Jardin Majorelle, in Morocco, which attracts 650,000 visitors a year, and operates a farm that produces an unlikely French delicacy — caviar — in the Gironde, north of Bordeaux.

One of France’s leading cultural gurus since 1988, when President François Mitterrand appointed him head of the Paris Opéra, Bergé has spent his highly eventful life pulling cultural strings and hobnobbing with the high and mighty: His autobiographical Les Jours s’en vont, je demeure details his relationships with two dozen artists, socialites and politicians. Yet he remains a private figure who seldom expresses himself in public. He was in an unusually expansive mood when he met Simon Hewitt on a blustery fall morning in the foundation’s offices, on the Avenue Marceau between the Champs-Élysées and the Seine, where the YSL fashion house was based for nearly 30 years. Spry, dapper and sometimes waspish, peppering his phrases with superlatives and voilàs, Bergé spoke about Yves Saint Laurent and his own preeminent role in assembling what the French media have dubbed the "sale of the century."

Why did you decide to sell the collection?

I learned that Yves Saint Laurent had terminal brain cancer in April 2007. He died 14 months later. I had plenty of time to reflect, and I soon realized that once he had died, the collection we had built up together would no longer have any meaning. I was not obliged to sell. I am sole legatee. I could have kept the collection, though I don’t know how, as there are more than 700 items in two venues: Yves Saint Laurent’s home, in Rue de Babylone, and mine, in Rue Bonaparte. So first, there was a problem of space. And what would I have done afterward — maybe sold a Picasso or a Matisse from time to time? Not a very satisfactory solution.
Another solution was to go and see the president and the culture minister to try and create a big museum somewhere in Paris. But that would have meant including all the costumes — I have 5,000 of them — plus 15,000 objects and drawings. So a very large space indeed would have been needed! What with French bureaucracy, the time needed to find somewhere and my age, I thought it was all a bit complicated.
The third solution was an auction. For me, this was the right one, for several reasons: It was the easiest and quickest, and I have always believed that we hold art in transit and that one day it must go on its way. I’m very glad about the idea that the art we collected will go to new homes or to museums. For me, that’s most important. People don’t know about the collection yet — they haven’t seen it. With an auction, it will exist. Not least because there will be five catalogues.

What does the collection mean to you?

We did not assemble this collection for money. It was a very important part of our life. There were three planks to the Bergé-Saint Laurent relationship: first, our life together for 50 years (I met him in 1958); second, our professional lives, building up the entity Yves Saint Laurent and everything this entailed; and the collection. For me, the three are totally interlinked.

Did you always intend to sell the collection in Paris?

Oh, yes! Yves Saint Laurent and I are French, we spent our careers in France, and our base for development was Paris. So this is where the sale had to be, even though there’s no art market in Paris.

You tried to remedy that in 2001 by taking over Drouot, but French regulations scotched the deal.

The idea of transforming Drouot into a truly international auction house was a very good one. I judge the commissaires-priseurs [state-appointed auction officials] who blocked it very severely. Now Drouot is stagnating. When they claim that they have maintained the art market in Paris, it’s quite wrong. There’s no truly international market in Paris. The only important sale is going to be mine. And I shall be staging it at Christie’s and PBA, while otherwise I would have staged it at Drouot.

PBA is based in Paris with premises opposite Drouot, but you’ve also sold in Geneva and acquired a space in Brussels. Were these actions part of an overall strategy?

There was no strategy. Geneva is the usual place to sell jewelry. Brussels was an opportunity to take over a magnificent building. Brussels is wonderful! The auction business is doing very, very well, and on top of that, we’ve done something different by opening an art gallery, asking contemporary artists and designers to come and work here.

Are there operational differences between Brussels and Paris?

I can’t really say. I’m not involved in the day-to-day management. But what I can say is that there are plenty of art lovers in Belgium and that the Belgians have always been art collectors and connoisseurs and connoisseurs of contemporary art. They have always bought the art of their own era.

What’s been the high point for PBA so far?

The Bérès sale, of course! [Book dealer Pierre Bérès’s collection brought €35 million ($47 million) over six auctions.]

Does PBA bring you pleasure?

PBA is a small auction firm, but we’re doing very well. We’re among the leading French firms. I’m very pleased.

What does the firm give you in terms of personal satisfaction?

That’s different! Not a lot. I’ve enough on my plate with all my other activities, like this collection I’m selling.

Why did you choose the Grand Palais as the venue for the sale?

I like to open doors. I’ve been doing that all my life! In 1983 I showed Saint Laurent at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, where they had never exhibited a couturier, and I continued with YSL exhibitions in Beijing; at the Hermitage, in St. Petersburg; and so on. So the Grand Palais suits me. It has great style.

Did you and Yves Saint Laurent form the collection together?

Not always. But we always approved everything together. That’s the main thing. No, I am more responsible than Yves for the choices in the collection. To begin with, we bought plenty of things together: Art Deco, Brancusi, de Chirico. Afterward, well, Saint Laurent was someone who worked from dawn till dusk, liked to be alone, was an introvert and lived by himself with his dog. I’m not like that. So I went around the galleries and did the buying. But afterward I showed him everything, and he always agreed with me.

Did your tastes change over time?

No. Our tastes didn’t change much, but the collection was about seizing opportunities. Today I’m well aware that people who build up collections tell their adviser, "I need a big Rothko to put there!" I never asked for a big Rothko — or a little Picasso. It was more about coming across a Picasso. That’s how things happened.

Were you influenced by artists you met?

Just once, with Andy Warhol, because he was a friend and did Yves Saint Laurent’s portrait. Otherwise, no. As collectors, we were influenced solely by the vicomte and vicomtesse de Noailles.

How?

Their Paris town house on Place des États-Unis was an exceptional place. You were greeted by two extraordinary Goyas, then an amazing Picasso. The salon was furnished entirely by Jean-Michel Frank, with parchment-covered walls and a mica fireplace; an enormous Rubens hung opposite a portrait of Marie-Laure de Noailles by Balthus. All that showed respect for the past and, at the same time, audacity and understanding for contemporary art.

Was their influence on you linked to individual works or their eclectic taste?

It was about taste, not works. And one thing above all: the most exacting standards. It’s not a collection based on signatures. We bought only four Picassos, for instance, just Cubist Picassos, because they’re the only Picassos I really like. We never bought Dalí, Chagall or Balthus.

Those artists are not to your taste?

Not at all! The collection was formed in a very demanding manner, with very sure taste. To form a collection of this quality is like creating a work of art. In a way, you stop being a collector and become something of an expert. Alas, we never bought Rothko, Newman, Pollock or Bacon. I very much regret the absence of Barnett Newman, a painter for whom I have immense admiration.

Was there a link between the collection and the world of haute couture?

Yes, but the other way round. Saint Laurent’s famous Mondrian collection dates from 1965, but the first Mondrian we bought was in 1972. There were other links, but not as strong as with Mondrian. Saint Laurent was always influenced, somewhat mysteriously, by Goya, Delacroix and Géricault, with regard to his taste for the Orient and the Moroccan feel to some of his designs.

Where did your own love of art come from?

It was partly innate, then developed through people I met: Cocteau; the French writer Jean Giono; and Bernard Buffet, a painter I loved when he was 20 and loved much less later, but never mind. I never deny my past. I was 19 when I met Bernard Buffet. I liked art but didn’t know a lot about it. His knowledge was extensive. Together we went round the Louvre together 50 times, maybe 80 times. That’s when I started to love art. The young, minimalist Buffet was very different from the later one. Buffet was a great painter. Unfortunately he started to produce works on an almost industrial scale.

Was that for commercial reasons?

I don’t know. Maybe he had nothing left to say.

Do you think that’s often the case with artists? You like early Picasso but not the later work, correct? Yes, of course, it’s often the case! Take Matisse. There are admirable Fauve Matisses, like La Danse, in the Barnes Collection, but afterward you have a long tunnel, with all those odalisques on the Côte d’Azur. It’s still Matisse, but... And then suddenly, an ending like The Tempest, like Verdi’s Falstaff — his swan song: You have the cutouts, absolutely wonderful, which take us back to the Matisse of the beginning. But it takes courage to say all this!

Did Yves Saint Laurent maintain his inspiration throughout his career, or did he also have his ups and downs?

No, he never had any downs. I can honestly tell you that there was no down period when it came to Saint Laurent. There are people who say that he always did the same thing for 20 years. Yes, for 20 years he always did the same thing! Saint Laurent hated fashion. Saint Laurent respected only style. Saint Laurent thought that changing every year, introducing something new, was quite ridiculous. Saint Laurent thought his role was to be useful to women, not to make use of women. Saint Laurent created a style and was faithful to that style. At the big Pompidou Center défilés [runway shows] you can see there was the first tuxedo, then the last tuxedo, and it’s the same, only it’s not the same at all. Voilà! And it was like that for years. So when people criticize Saint Laurent for not changing, it’s just hot air. Because people who have more than just talent never change.

Did you share ideas? Did he ask for your opinion?

I never put forward ideas, saying, "You should do this or that." No, never, ever. But on the other hand, as we were living together and were very close, of course he would ask for my opinion. I remember the Mondrians. Suddenly someone burst in and said, "‘Monsieur Saint Laurent asks you to come immediately!" So I went round and saw a model with this red square. At first I was speechless, then I said, "It’s a Mondrian!" And Yves said, "Yeah, that’s right. We’re going to show it."
We exchanged a lot, but between him and me there was a Berlin Wall. He never penetrated my territory — he wouldn’t have been able to — and I never penetrated his. Especially in my role as manager. I never asked him, "Why are you doing another coat like that? We’ve already got one. We don’t need a second." He did as he pleased. I, on the other hand, always tried to be by his side and to help.

His death must have been a body blow for you.

Yes, but I realized long ago that I would one day be alone, and in a way, I wanted things to happen like that. I don’t think Yves would have staged this sale, and afterward the collection would have been split up any old how — precisely what I wish to avoid by staging this sale.
I’ve controlled everything. A bit too much, some say. Too bad. I believe only in details. No detail must be neglected. Not one. It’s the details that count. So I will see everything through till the end. Voilà!

Will you be relieved when the sale is over?

Very.

Will you feel emotional? Will you feel nostalgic?

I detest nostalgia. I’m not someone who thinks everything was better before. I always think that things are better today and will be even better tomorrow. But I’ll feel emotional, yes. That’s for sure. "A Man of Style" originally appeared in the February 2009 issue of Art+Auction. For a complete list of articles from this issue available on ARTINFO, see Art+Auction's February 2009 Table of Contents.