In the centre of the gallery at the Cartier Foundation in Paris, there’s a big ball of manure wrapped with twine, like a gift from the world’s largest dung beetle. It is surrounded by an assortment of primitive seats, some hacked out of chunks of granite, others fired from slabs of clay, all encircled by a bamboo enclosure that has the look of a shamanic hut.
Other curious props are arranged around the space, like offerings awaiting the start of a ritual. There is a carved stone block slathered in bitumen and adorned with gold leaf. It sits next to a little altar covered in chalk and a dark ball wrapped with white thread, inside a conical bamboo cage. There are tiny clay models of what could be temples, and intricate landscapes featuring steps carved into blocks of asphalt, echoing Indian stepwells. Above it all, a bronze bell hangs from the ceiling, as if ready to announce the beginning of whatever occult proceedings are about to occur.
