Ariana Papademetropoulos Discusses Her Immersive Paris Exhibition

Ariana Papademetropoulos’ latest exhibition, titled “Glass Slipper”,” This is not just a fairy tale. The exhibition, currently on view at Thaddaeus Ropac’s Paris space through April 11, includes two different series of paintings – one a surreal depiction of a dress in a dry cleaning bag, other chairs floating in different landscapes – and an installation made up of a fish tank and mattress, which visitors are invited to lie down in and put on headphones to listen to a commissioned soundtrack. The artist hopes to transform the gallery into a ritualized space, where water, portals and invisible forces create an immersive encounter. Below, Papademetropoulos describes her conception of the exhibition, her various influences, and what she thinks keeps art alive.

Thaddaeus Ropac’s space in Paris looks a bit like a church, with high ceilings. I want to treat this exhibition as a journey and let the works guide you through it. I drew the dry cleaning to greet you. (One piece of clothing I already owned, the other I rented for this painting.) They don’t have figures, but you can feel them. You can almost hear them. From presence to absence, there is a thread running throughout. As you step into the nave-like gallery, a glass coffin dominates the center, surrounded by large canvases imitating Roman trompe l’oeil. Chairs are directional; they tell you where you should sit. The chairs in my paintings replace the figures. They float in the air, unable to tell whether they are rising or falling. The same ambiguity applies to rainbows gravity rainbow (2026). Jump out or get into the water? Interestingly, the first painting I created, Jupiter and Io (2026), the exhibition on the second floor ends, while the last piece I made, the aquarium, takes center stage downstairs.

I think art should make you meditative. That’s why we go to the museum. With the aquarium, I thought I could take it a step further. It was filled with 150 freshwater kissing fish. They kiss to control each other. I’m waiting for them to start, but so far they’ve been kissing the glass. They’re so cartoonish that they’re almost unrealistic. I wanted 1,000, but was told the limit for this type of fish tank was 150. I want the audience to be immersed in it and feel like they can coexist with another species. Air, one of my favorite bands, asked me to do the art for their upcoming album. In return, I asked them to compose a three-minute track for the aquarium. I gave them a lot of references, including their own work in the film virgin suicideand 70s ambient music. The music aims to convey the feeling of being deep into the ocean: starting at the surface and descending as the track progresses. I feel like their music completes the piece. Is this Snow White’s coffin? The Pope’s coffin? I like it when people have their own interpretations. Inspired by Korean spa rituals, I built the aquarium to be the ultimate healing device. Visitors become avatars of themselves, observers are observed, immersed in this game of gaze. Ice, fog, steam – through water we purify, renew and transform.

The show’s title, “The Glass Slipper,” is a reference to Cinderella. I love that it’s reminiscent of fairy tales, but it’s also violent. There’s a tension there – you’re protected, but that protection can be broken. The title carries these dualities. I think of the glass slipper as a vessel, echoing the theme of other vessels in the show: microwaves, dry cleaning, and finally the aquarium. I curated this exhibition around an esoteric version of The Wizard of Oz. Frank Baum, the author of the novel on which the film is based, was a Theosophist, and I love where Hollywood meets New Age—my work reflects that. big book, The Wizard of Oz This is the ultimate story, the best movie ever made. Certain movies you watched as a kid—in my case, Jean Cocteau’s beauty and the Beast and Roger Vadim’s Barbarella– Embed them in your mind. These stories remain alive and continue to inspire people’s imaginations.

The vintage telephone booth on the second floor was the only work I had completed prior to this exhibition. I think they can act as portals, like my paintings. Each is made of seashells, which also serve as gateways to the ocean. What a beautiful moment when you lift the receiver and hear the sound of the ocean. It connects us all. I had been working with a media outlet in Los Angeles for six years for the recording, but we had an intellectual property dispute. Then I discovered another incredible psychic, recommended by the artist Pol Taburet.

The psychic’s name is Yaguel Didier. He is 83 years old and is very famous in France. Her house is filled with paintings by Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse. She has the warmest voice. I don’t speak French, so someone at the gallery translated her reading, allowing me to isolate three excerpts for each phone booth. (These excerpts have nothing to do with my personal life.) Keeping her voice in French adds an invisible layer, a conveying effect of language. Her visions – rose petals falling in swirls, fish surrounding you, objects flying through the air – often echo my work. She knew nothing about it, but her images fit the exhibition perfectly.

Much of my practice is an investigation of the intangible. I am fascinated by the places where the psychic realm meets the quantum realm, where science meets magic. Anything I don’t understand makes me think. I love movies with unknown endings – they’re still alive. This is why I love David Lynch or the Mona Lisa: we don’t know why she smiles. Mystery keeps art alive. Things we cannot fully grasp always seem to have a life of their own. —As Sarah Belmont says