Every summer, changes take place at Louvre Abu Dhabi without fanfare.
There are no big banners or special announcements, yet the permanent galleries undergo a subtle shift. New loans and acquisitions are peppered throughout – not to disrupt the museum’s focus, but to expand and enrich its universal narrative.
While there are changes in the museum’s galleries year-round, a lion’s share of shuffling takes place at this time, says Guilhem Andre, director of scientific, curatorial and collections management. “We refresh our new loans from partnering institutions and rotate our collections as well,” he adds.
This year, additions range from a delicate Roman cameo and a Gabonese reliquary figure to artworks by Russian painter Wassily Kandinsky, Swiss sculptor Alberto Giacometti and Catalan artist Antoni Tapies. Placed among the museum’s existing displays, they invite new dichotomies and connections.
Among these is a Menhir statue, dating to 3000 BC. It stands small beside the towering image of Egyptian pharaoh Ramesses II (which is about 2.6 metres tall), but is equally intriguing. The sandstone figure was carved more than 5,000 years ago in what is now southern France.
The Menhir statue has a triangular face, arms etched flat across the body and legs marked by two straight lines. A belt with chevron patterns wraps the waist. Its features are minimal, but enough to suggest the outline of a person, most likely someone of importance.
Similar to its neighbouring pharaoh, it may once have stood as a marker of identity or power, though its form is pared down, and is more symbolic than representative. “This is interesting because this a man of power represented here,” Andre says. “So, again, this is putting civilisations in dialogue.”
The statue is on loan from the National Archaeological Museum in Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
A decorative Roman cameo is a highlight acquisition by Louvre Abu Dhabi. Carved in layered stone no bigger than a palm, it shows a young man in a tunic and toga. He is thought to be Agrippa Postumus, the grandson and adopted heir of Emperor Augustus, founder of the Roman Empire. Originally a sign of imperial loyalty, the cameo was remounted in 18th-century Britain in a gold setting. While this piece could have been worn on the body, generally, they were more frequently inlaid into furniture.
Craftsmanship is on full display in the form of a 16th-century casket from the Kingdom of Kotte, in present-day Sri Lanka.
Made of minutely carved ivory panels set in gold and inlaid with rubies, spinels and sapphires, the object was likely a diplomatic gift – a product of South Asian courtly art shaped by both local traditions and Portuguese influences.
“It was given as a diplomatic gift to John III, King of Portugal,” Andre says. “It’s incredibly meticulous. You can’t even see the joints. That’s the mark of a masterpiece.”
Nearby in the exhibition sits a 15th-century lustreware dish. Produced in the workshops of Manises, near Valencia, it was a diplomatic gift to the French royal family.
Its surface is glazed with the coats of arms of both Burgundy and France; the deep blue is still vivid. Perhaps most striking is its shimmer, achieved through metallic oxides, which was a technical marvel of its time.
Another notable addition is Una Bulaquena (1895) by Juan Luna, on loan from the National Museum of the Philippines. The painting is regarded as a Filipino national treasure. Its arrival at Louvre Abu Dhabi marks the first time the work has left the country.
Una Bulaquena, which is one of Luna’s most enigmatic works, depicts a young Filipina woman poised and composed in traditional attire. She holds a handkerchief in one hand and in the other, an ivory fan.
Luna is perhaps best known for his epic paintings, which reframe moments from ancient history as allegories of colonial oppression. Una Bulaquena is a rare example of one of his softer, more introspective works.
The painting hangs between two other masterpieces from the same era – Auguste Renoir’s La Tasse de Chocolat (Cup of Chocolate) and Edouard Manet’s The Bohemian, presenting an alluring variety in the art of portraiture.
Several other additions build dialogues with nearby works. A limestone Head of an Ephebe from 5th-century BC Cyprus now joins a line of sculpted heads from across time and geographies. With its wreath and triangular smile, the limestone sculpture presents a stark formal contrast with heads from the Nok and Mayan cultures.
“It’s a male youth from the Greek world, coming from Cyprus,” Andre says. “It’s a face with curved eyebrows, and the smile is typical from the fifth and sixth centuries.”
The Kota Reliquary Figure from 19th-century Gabon, meanwhile, is displayed near artefacts tied to burial and remembrance. Its function contrasts with the materials and beliefs of neighbouring objects, but is dedicated to ancestral memory all the same.
One of the more historically charged loans is the Sarcophagus of Livia Primitiva, circa 250 AD, considered one of the earliest-known examples of Christian funerary art. On its surface, Roman decorative motifs intertwine with emerging Christian symbols – a shepherd, a fish, a ram. The piece is on loan from the Louvre Paris, where it will eventually return to be the opening piece of a gallery dedicated to Eastern Christianity.
Among the acquisitions are a trio of portraits and scenes that span styles and centuries.
The Rialto Bridge from the South (circa 1720) by Giovanni Antonio Canal captures Venice in crisp detail. The idealised cityscape is seen as an early example of souvenir paintings, bought by tourists in the 18th century.
Charles Meynier’s The Farewell of Telemachus and Eucharis (1800) takes a more allegorical turn, using a classical myth to stage a drama of longing and envy.
Then there’s Portrait of Kosa Pan (1686) by Antoine Benoist, a rediscovered depiction of the first Siamese ambassador to the court of Louis XIV. The ambassador is depicted in formal dress, poised and composed in a French setting.
The painting is hung close to a self-portrait by Hortense Haudebourt-Lescot (born Antoinette Cecile). Loaned from Louvre Paris, it shows the artist, brush in hand, presenting herself not as subject, but author.
The new modern works, meanwhile, turn towards explorations of form, material and abstraction.
Two bronzes on loan from the Centre Pompidou approach the human figure from opposing angles. Giacometti’s Femme de Venise V (1956) is replete with tension, showing a body that is emaciated to the point of being barely present.
Germaine Richier’s L’Orage (1947–48), meanwhile, is a more robust but nonetheless dramatic piece. The figure is as textured as Giacometti’s but has its face hollowed out, with deep streaks that give it the impression of having been clawed out of form.
And then there’s Kandinsky. A new acquisition, White Oval was painted in 1921, a turning point in the artist’s life, created as Kandinsky was leaving Russia for Germany. The work carries traces of figuration, but they’re dissolved into loose forms with drifting colours. It's a transitional piece, not just in a biographical sense, but also pointing towards the sensibilities that would inform his history-making abstract works.
“He was already working on colours and shapes,” Andre says. “Trying to give the person seeing the painting the idea of harmony, it’s a bit as if he were depicting music.”
Finally, Tapies’s Grand blanc horizontal (1962), on loan from the Centre Pompidou, adds a different register in the final space in the permanent galleries. The work is more terrain than images, a textured surface that is superimposed by a clean horizontal line, which meets another in the middle at a perpendicular angle.
The artwork resonates with the sandstone fragments from Saudi Arabia’s Sarat Abidah region. And although 4,000 years separate the two displays – there is an interesting parallel between the works in how they exhibit mark-making and a timeless urge to leave something behind.
