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Near Paris, the Fondation de Coubertin incarnates
the extraordinary ambitions and self-effacing character of its founder.
It would be difficult to imagine a more wow-inducing client list:
Versailles, the Elysée Palace, Mont-Saint-Michel, the Rodin Museum,
the Musée d’Orsay, the Banque Rothschild, Tiffany & Co., Louis Vuitton,
L’Oréal.... Not to mention various and sundry international multimillionaires
whose names are not revealed “out of discretion.” They along with
hundreds of other historic monuments, cultural institutions and corporations
have all commissioned work from the Fondation de Coubertin, a lovely,
fascinating and somewhat quirky place about 20 miles southwest of
Paris.
Yet ask most any Parisian—even those
savvy types who pride themselves on always being in the loop—if they
have heard of the foundation, and they will likely draw a blank. At
most, they’ll wave away the question with a vague statement about
its probable association with Pierre de Coubertin, founder of the
modern-day Olympics. They would be vaguely right—the foundation is
in fact the legacy of Coubertin’s niece Yvonne. That few people have
heard of it is not really that surprising, given that it rarely opens
its doors to the public or does anything to solicit media coverage.
As for the craftsmen who work there, well, they’re an unpretentious
lot not given to bragging about their work—even if it does end up
in museums and palaces from Paris to Tokyo.
Although easy to reach from Paris
(located in Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, it is a short walk from the
last stop on the RER B line), the foundation’s woodland setting fosters
the impression that this place is a world away. Just off a country
lane, its imposing wrought-iron gates open onto a long tree-lined
drive leading to a château—ordinary enough until you spot the enormous
bronze horse and bull on either side of the front door.
Completed in 1700, the château belonged
to the Freddy de Coubertin family for nearly three centuries. Like
any self-respecting country retreat of its day, it boasted a working
farm, massive dovecote, ice house, orangery, greenhouse, orchard and
tiny chapel. Yvonne de Coubertin, born in 1893, spent her summers
in this privileged place, surrounded by family and a Who’s Who of
Parisian society. “Yvonne’s parents were very mondains, but
they were also remarkably modern,” says Gilles de Navacelle, president
of the foundation and a descendent of the Coubertin family. “They
very much wanted to give their children a balance of cultural, intellectual
and athletic activities.”
Yvonne could have grown up worrying
about little else than what to wear each day, but that was not her
style. Instead, she studied Japanese and racked up honors from the
Sorbonne in subjects as different as philosophy, history, chemistry,
zoology and ceramics. “She did so many things that were extremely
rare for her era,” marvels Navacelle. “You can only wonder how her
life might have turned out were it not for World War I.” Tragically,
she lost not only her mother but her two brothers in that conflict.
Later, she would also lose one of her sisters at a young age.
During the war, Yvonne worked as a
volunteer nurse for the British Red Cross—the first step in what would
be a lifetime of service to others. Before the age of 30 she had established
and directed the first residences in Paris for female students, providing
not only lodging but an intellectual, cultural, academic and spiritual
environment as well. Women’s education would remain a pet project,
but she also gave generously of her time and fortune to champion other
causes, notably helping underprivileged women and orphans. “Yvonne
became something of a mystic,” says Navacelle. “You could say she
was a sort of lay nun.”
Indeed, although quite pretty and
extraordinarily accomplished, Yvonne never married. Nor did her one
surviving sister, and the question of what to do with the Coubertin
château soon became an issue. “She was tremendously concerned about
making something useful and lasting out of the place,” recalls Navacelle.
“It was her meeting with Jean Bernard in 1949 that finally helped
her decide what to do.”
In Bernard, she met her match, at least
when it came to spiritual devotion, passion and raw energy. Son of
renowned sculptor Joseph Bernard, Jean was an artist in his own right.
In 1927, the 19-year-old took on no less daunting a project than producing
130 illustrated copies of the Epistle of Saint John. The project took
eight years and entailed hand carving 2,000 woodcuts and block printing
thousands of images—not to mention making the paper and selecting
the typefaces. Bernard would later go on to become a stone carver
and most important—at least for the future foundation—a Compagnon
du Devoir.
“Some people think that compagnonnage
may go back to King Solomon’s Temple,” explains Jean-Paul Jusselme,
director of the Fondation de Coubertin and himself a compagnon. “But
it most likely emerged in the 11th century, when the cathedrals were
being built.” Originally guilds of stone carvers, carpenters and metalworkers,
compagnons were bound by more than their craft. “Religious orders
founded these groups, and they wanted craftsmen to realize that they
weren’t merely making a living but were serving a higher purpose,”
says Jusselme.
Compagnonnage would grow over the
centuries, spreading to other professions and taking on initiations,
symbols, secret handshakes and other opaque trappings while promoting
professional and human values. “Although no longer religious, it’s
still very spiritual,” says Jusselme. “To this day, we believe that
through building something, we in fact build ourselves.” Compagnonnage
began to decline in the late 19th century, however, due to increased
mechanization and the advent of unions and other labor movements,
which took over its role as a defender of workers’ rights. “Jean Bernard
spent much of his life trying to revive compagnonnage,” says Jusselme.
“He wanted to rediscover its roots, to bring back its original ideals.”
By the time Yvonne de Coubertin met
Bernard, she had already developed an interest in furthering the education
of blue-collar workers—her uncle Pierre had in fact been one of the
first to propose “workers’ universities.” She and Bernard quickly
realized that their objectives dovetailed, and in 1950 they launched
an association to give aspiring compagnons—most of whom leave school
at age 16 to begin some 8 to 10 years of training—the well-rounded
education they otherwise would miss. “We want to provide them with
the best means for developing their personality,” she wrote, “as much
from cultural, moral and spiritual points of view as from a professional
one.”
To facilitate their apprenticeships,
two compagnon workshops were set up on the château grounds. Christened
the Ateliers Saint-Jacques, one was devoted to joinery and cabinetmaking,
the other to decorative metalworking. In 1963, an art foundry—the
Fonderie de Coubertin—was added. They were so successful that it became
apparent that they could fund the association, which was transformed
into a foundation in 1973. The fact that it was self-supporting—a
rarity in France, the Pasteur Institute being another example—was
the best guarantee that its work would go on.
Yvonne de Coubertin died the following
year, leaving the château and grounds to her beloved foundation, which
is now part business, part school/museum/historic property/hostel.
From his small office, Jean-Paul Jusselme manages these diverse enterprises,
which employ 120 individuals and generate annual sales of
1.1 million euros. Yet while very much the equivalent of a
CEO, he is more inclined to talk about spiritual growth than about
growing the company. He speaks almost reverently of the founders and
devotes long days to ensuring that their vision is carried out throughout
every inch of the 67-acre property.
The locus of activity is at the far
end of the estate, where a collection of wood and glass buildings
are tucked discreetly into the forest. Walking up to them is rather
surreal—grassy patches are nonchalantly strewn with sculptures and
molds forming a sort of fantastical imaginary garden: There’s an outsized
De Gaulle striding alongside a massive Churchill, a woman engulfed
in flames, an eight-foot-tall unblinking eye, a dismantled Statue
of Liberty, a muscular torso, four frolicking graces....
All have emerged from the foundry,
whose reputation can be summed up by the fact that it was selected
to make a copy of Rodin’s “Gates of Hell”—a monumental bronze that
few other foundries in the world could have attempted, let alone cast
so successfully. Along with reproducing museum pieces, the foundry
also works with contemporary sculptors—Australian John Kelly (whose
enormous cow-in-a-tree, also made at Coubertin, was recently exhibited
on the Champs-Elysées); Senegalese Ousmane Sow, American Dan Ostermiller,
Spaniard Santiago Calatrava....
Many of these artists come and stay
at the foundation during certain stages of the process. “It makes
for very rich exchanges,” says atelier director Jean Dubos. “We gain
a better understanding of what they are trying to do, and they gain
a better understanding of the process. It’s especially stimulating
when their vision for a particular piece requires us to come up with
a new technique.” Indeed, the Coubertin foundry has been credited
with innovations that have been adopted by foundries throughout the
world.
Yet if profit were the foundation’s
only motive, the foundry probably would have closed by now, given
the erratic nature of the art market. But in keeping with one of the
tenets of compagnonnage—that it is vital to preserve and pass along
this kind of rare savoir-faire—proceeds from the other workshops have
kept it afloat.
In terms of sales, the foundation’s
biggest activity is cabinetmaking, followed by metalworking and stone
carving (added in 1993). All three ateliers do restoration work—in
particular, for historic monuments—as well as new projects. “Restoration
is important because it helps us preserve certain skills that might
otherwise be lost,” says Jean-Louis Gimalac, who directs the cabinetmaking
atelier. “We can then apply those skills to new commissions.”
The range of these projects—in style,
materials and dimensions—is astounding. Whether you’re looking for
a Renaissance stone staircase, Louis XIV wood paneling, an ultra-high-tech
conference table, a chic storefront or a whimsical light fixture,
they will gladly design and/or produce it for you. And thanks to a
roster of famous designers and architects who have discovered the
foundation—Philippe Starck, Andrée Putman, Jacques Garcia, Gae Aulenti,
Alberto Pinto, Ricardo Bofill—these and other custom-made pieces are
finding their way to clients around the world. This past January,
for example, craftsmen were fashioning a music pavilion destined for
Tahiti, a wrought-iron stair railing for Barbados, a stone chimney
for Long Island....
Richard Ruvin, the managing partner
for an American architecture firm, was so impressed with the foundation’s
work that he recently signed on to be its U.S. representative. “I
work on high-end residences, and for a space to become truly remarkable,
it needs a jewel,” he maintains. “Coubertin’s craftsmen can provide
that jewel.” Equally important, they seem to thrive on challenges,
whether it’s coming up with just the right design, devising a new
technique or working within a tight budget. “The more difficult the
project, the happier they are,” marvels Ruvin. Indeed, a leitmotif
of conversations with craftsmen is their disdain for anything resembling
series work—these guys are definitely into prototypes.
While the workshops buzz with activity,
a lone woman quietly holds down the other end of the domain. Curator
Pascale Grémont has maintained headquarters in the château for the
past 20 years, overseeing the library of rare books donated by Yvonne
de Coubertin and the foundation’s art collection, which includes drawings
and sculptures by Joseph Bernard, a gift from his son Jean. Grémont’s
bailiwick also extends to the sculpture garden, which boasts some
of the world’s finest bronzes. (The horse and bull, it turns out,
are on extended loan from the Bourdelle museum and Jean Cardot.)
Each year, Grémont single-handedly
mounts a major exhibit, the one occasion when visitors can see Coubertin—or
at least the château, exhibit hall and sculpture garden. “We are fairly
cut off from the outside world,” she explains, “so these exhibits
are a way of establishing a relationship with the general public.”
This year, she plans to showcase the works of Eugène Dodeigne, who,
like the foundation, is better known to museums than to the public
at large.
Yet, in spite of the growing appeal
of its collections and the prestige of its ateliers, the raison d’être
of the foundation remains the 30 boursiers (all students are
on full scholarship) who live and study in a cluster of storybook
farm buildings now transformed into dormitories, classrooms and lecture
halls. Hailing from towns throughout provincial France, most are aspiring
compagnons nearing the end of their Tour de France—a series of yearlong
stints at businesses in different cities.
Fresh-faced and industrious, these
young people are surprisingly sure that they would not want to be
anywhere else, in spite of a schedule that keeps them busy from morning
’til night. Days are filled with classes and work in the ateliers;
evenings are spent on elective studies or crafting a “chef d’oeuvre,”
a sort of thesis submitted for acceptance as a compagnon. Any remaining
downtime is absorbed by cultural excursions and weekly lectures by
guest speakers on such diverse topics as “The Life of Bees,” “What
Is Philosophy?,” “Rodin in 1900,” and “Ethical Questions Posed by
Modern Biology.”
Curiously, these twentysomethings
don’t seem the least bit tempted by the idea of hopping on the RER
and heading off to party in Paris. And although some have long-distance
girlfriends, dating doesn’t seem too much of a part of their lives
either. (Women are welcome at Coubertin, although only four have attended
during the past 10 years.) “Oh, we like fun and girls as much as anyone,”
laughs one student, “but there will be time for that later.” He acknowledges,
though, that the lifestyle here isn’t suited to everyone. “Some people
are afraid to come to Coubertin because they’ve heard it’s very demanding,
and it is.”
Those who do come, however, seem truly
grateful for the opportunity and intent on making the most of it.
Former student Jérôme Buffet, now a cabinetmaker with the Ateliers
Saint-Jacques, recalls the experience as extremely enriching, one
that opened new personal and professional horizons and boosted his
self-confidence. “Being a boursier at Coubertin is like living
in a bubble where everything revolves around you,” he says. “That’s
a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”s
French-speakers of all nationalities are welcome to apply for scholarships.
The foundation also offers group training sessions, with lodging available
on the premises. For more information on these or any of its other
activities, contact the Fondation de Coubertin, BP2, 78470 Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse,
France. Tel. 33/1-30-85-69-60, Fax 33/1-30-85-69-99. Web site: www.fondation-coubertin.asso.fr
For information on commissioning work from the Ateliers Saint-Jacques,
call Richard Ruvin at 866/585-1200.
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