On a particularly spring-like March afternoon, the elegant gallerist and dealer Gladys Chenel steps into her Parisian courtyard. She is with her friend, the impeccable Isabelle Dupuy Chavanat, a polymath who makes films, takes pictures, and writes books. Immediately, they are drenched in sunlight. Not that they’ve noticed; they’re far too locked into their post-lunch conversation. It’s a fizzy snapshot of energy, a surge that can only occur between friends who effortlessly spark each other into life. Gladys is a bubbly, inviting host. Isabelle is warm with a dash of arthouse movie restraint. They cannot recall exactly where they met – it was either in Arles or at the Galerie Chenel on the Left Bank – but it was roughly a decade or so ago.

Everywhere you look in Gladys’s apartment your own eye is pleasured; her role as scenographer and art director for the gallery, as well as for external projects, is on plain view and showcases her innate skill at putting objects in harmonious dialogue with one another, despite their diversity of spirit or varying degrees of preciousness. Each room brims with objects that are conversation starters. There are Picasso ceramics. A vase by Kansai Noguchi. Photographs of Cy Twombly. A coffee table, consisting of a slab of 17th-century Italian marble flooring that rests atop a Roman head, is paired with chairs by Marc Held. At one point, she delightedly announces that an object in her personal collection once belonged to Simone de Beauvoir. “That is not for sale,” she smiles. 

Gladys shares the apartment with her husband Ollivier, and regardless of its gallery-worthy contents, it oozes homeliness and comfort. The pair met young, and established Galerie Chenel in 1999 with Ollivier’s brother, Adrien – their father had been an antique dealer. Gladys has just returned from fine art and antiques fair TEFAF Maastricht, an important event for the trio, who specialise in archaeological objects, with particular emphasis on Roman arts and sculpture. Their space on Quai Voltaire in many ways echoes the couple’s home, showcasing their thoughtful taste and considered approach to the presentation of ancient artefacts. Alongside their own thematic exhibitions and collaborations with the likes of photographer François Halard [Isabelle’s husband], they sell to both private collections and international museums, including Musée du Louvre, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and the British Museum. 

Isabelle is a documentary film-maker who began her career as a photographer: she trained at visual arts school Gobelins Paris, before becoming a journalist. She has executed projects for Hermès, spotlighting their artisans’ rare skills and craftsmanship. She has worked with art photographer Sarah Moon and co-directed a series of documentary films – “Au fil du monde” – for European culture channel Arte, also capturing the intelligence of the hand. Her wonderful book “L’Atlas mondial de l’artisanat d’art” was published in 2023, and is an ode to artisans’ journeys around the world, while in 2025 she made a film with Paris Opéra, “Métamorphosis”, a beautiful study of retired dancers. 

During the course of the afternoon, Gladys (above right) and Isabelle (above left) go on a conversational global tour. They stop at Chatsworth House in England [“I love the English countryside”, says Isabelle], the Teshima Art Museum in Japan [“You leave this place with a smile on your face and stars in your eyes,” says Gladys] via Casa Malaparte in Capri. The latter is captured in a Halard photograph which is propped around three Roman fragments sitting on a side table made of a Roman top and Neoclassical marble legs in Gladys’s front room. It captures a view through a window, a dreamy portal into the Mediterranean. Both women stand in front of it and talk about holidays, swimming and art – and so we begin. 

Simon Chilvers: What a beautiful afternoon in Paris. I’d love to just start with the story of how you met and became friends. 

Gladys Chenel: We became friends very quickly and very naturally. We met through François [Halard], Isabelle’s husband, who comes often to the gallery. 

Isabelle Dupuy Chavanat: I know that for François it is very important to go to the gallery, because it’s like a medicine when he is a bit stressed. 

Gladys: It’s like going to a shrink! [laughs]. We started talking to François about the artworks and we just felt an immediate connection with him and his work. Whenever he comes, I make him a coffee and we sit down and talk. For us, it’s wonderful to have a real dialogue with somebody who understands what we do and how we do it. Someone who understands the beauty of a fragment [historic or artistic artefact] without explanation. I am, of course, also a big fan of his photographs.

Isabelle: It was the first time I saw people – Gladys, Ollivier and Adrien – who were a little bit rock’n’roll in this kind of gallery! And when I first visited them, I really saw the link immediately between this space and their personalities. Gladys had organised an exhibition that linked contemporary artists, such as Cy Twombly and Andy Warhol, with antiquities. She organised this exhibition with François. I was very impressed by her vision. I think she has a very distinctive approach and has breathed new life and a modern spirit into her field, so that everyone can share in all this beauty. 

Gladys: We don’t speak so much about work, actually it has never been necessary. But I have a deep admiration for Isabelle. Everything she does reflects who she is. She’s very attentive, curious, sincere. It is expressed through her work. She made a beautiful book about craftsmanship “[L’Atlas mondial de l’artisanat d’art]” – it’s very sensitive, precise, and you really feel her way of looking, her attention to detail, her respect for handmade work. It’s a natural extension of who she is. 

Isabelle: The last time I wondered what bound us together beyond the friendship and admiration I have for you… and deep down I think perhaps it began in our childhoods. We are like opposites, because Gladys was born in Nice and I was born in the absolutely last city in France, Dunkerque, near the border of Belgium. We were both lulled by the winds: perhaps gentler for you, as the mistral is less strong when it blows on this side of the Mediterranean. For me, the north wind gave us a rough ride. 

Gladys: We both love the Mediterranean, and we love to swim together. 

Simon: You found each other through creativity, then. I’d love to ask you both a bit more about the creative life. You are both married to and live with equally creative people. Can you talk a little bit about this.

Isabelle: I met François 20 years ago. I was a journalist, and at the time I lived with a  different photographer; I am a photographer too, and I studied photography. He said there can only be one photographer in this couple. I loved him, so I said: “OK, don’t worry, I’ll do something else.” After 10 years, we split. I met François, we went swimming and I said I wanted to start doing photography again because I loved it. One day with Sarah Moon, Sarah saw my pictures and said, “You need to follow this.” François knew that I liked photography, I like music and I liked to tell stories, so he suggested I make films. 

Sharing my life with a creative person allows me to speak the same language. It’s fantastic because we have a shared energy. We understand and embrace each other’s creative process. We both know how long a project can take. We appreciate each other’s uncompromising perspective, we push and encourage each other. There is absolutely no competition at all. I have a lot of respect and love for the freedom we give each other. I think that is the secret.

Simon: How did your business start, Gladys? That seems to anchor you to your creative path? 

Gladys: The business, our gallery, is a family business. Ollivier, my husband, and I work together with Adrien, my brother-in-law. Ollivier and Adrien’s father was an antique dealer in Nice. Ollivier always knew that he wanted to be an antiques dealer, even when he was a kid. When we met in Nice, we were not even 18. I really liked to draw, not as an artist, but it was something that I was dreaming of. I had my eyes wide open, but Ollivier knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to be a dealer. We went to London and lived together, and then we left London and decided to open a gallery in Paris. We were 21. I loved many things about art but I knew nothing, I didn’t study it. We were selling a bit of everything. We had pieces of furniture. Ollivier taught me how to look, what to look for.

We built the collection very instinctively, almost emotionally. We’re not looking for a period or the perfect coherence. We’re looking for a presence. These objects carry something, a trace, a tension, a memory. Some pieces are immediate, almost physical. Others take time, but they stay with us.

Simon: Could you tell us more about your drawing?

Gladys: When people first came into the gallery, I was always drawing. I still draw but I kind of stopped when I had my kids. But now I like to have my sketchbook in my bag everywhere I go. I’m enjoying it again. I'm a dreamer. I think a lot. I think too much sometimes but I like to draw what I have in front of me. It could be my foot, it could be the table, it could be an ambience, it could be a body.

Isabelle: On Sunday she showed me her drawings, which are part of the work for a new project. They are very, very beautiful. I think it’s very important for her to draw, to follow her dreams. And I haven’t seen anything like this new work she is creating elsewhere. It’s interesting because it’s a mix between design and antiques.

Gladys: In the gallery, I have many roles but my main role is to take care of the scenography. All of our pieces in the gallery are beautiful by themselves, but it’s important to put them in dialogue with each other. How they talk to each other and to the room is very important. I think in terms of rhythm, breathing… and also silence. Light is essential. I prefer natural light, it reveals without fixing, it lets movement exist. 

I’m interested in spaces you feel before you fully understand them. To me, a space or an image, it’s always a form of storytelling. My approach is quite intuitive. It’s always about composition, relationships, and creating a certain feeling. I try to create a feeling, a tension… something almost invisible, but present. It’s not only about showing, it’s about making people feel something. And the result has to feel like natural harmony.

Simon: And what can you say about this new project?

Gladys: As well as working on my drawings, I have been thinking a lot about [historic, artistic] fragments and how they can exist today. Ancient pieces, like Roman fragments. How can we bring them into contemporary spaces without freezing them? I want to give them another life. I have been working on furniture that starts with fragments and which I assemble with very simple steel structures. Very minimal, almost silent lines, where the present just accompanies the past. Each piece is unique; it’s really about balance between memory and function, past and present.

When I told Isabelle about this, I knew that she would understand immediately the attention to craftsmanship, which is also so visible in her work. It was good to get her opinion. Isabelle is such a good listener. She has good taste. She was enthusiastic which gave me confidence in the project. She gave me some tips which were very precious.

Isabelle: At this moment, it is so difficult to create something new. But really this is not furniture. These are pieces of art.

Simon: When and where can we see these new pieces, Gladys? 

Gladys: I think we will present three or four of these pieces in New York at TEFAF [in May]. Let’s see. 

Simon: I’m excited to see this new work. Isabelle, you wear several work hats as well as your film-making. What are you focusing on at the moment? What new project might we see from you soon?

Isabelle: At the moment, I’m switching between writing my next book – I love working with my editor Julie Rouart at Flammariont who I also worked with on my “Atlas mondial de l’artisanat d’art” for five years – and planning a trip to Japan. I’m preparing a new film set in Japan. Next month, I will go to scout locations. So it’s a lot of meetings with various producers and publishers and I’m often holed up in my study right now. 

Switching from one medium to another keeps me constantly on the move. These are professions where patience and tenacity are key. We spend a lot of time waiting, always looking for funding to make this or that project happen. You have to convince people, and then there are long months of work ahead. 

For my latest film, “Métamorphosis”, I was able to film dancers from the Paris Opéra who, once retired and after spending 35 years at the institution, are starting from scratch. For me, what matters most is what I want to say, what story I want to tell. But the aesthetic aspect, the form, is also very important, as I trained as a photographer. All of this requires a great deal of preparation, time spent on writing, directing and editing.

Simon: I really want to see this film, Isabelle. How did it come about? 

Isabelle: It began with a proposal from Emilie Fouilloux, who wanted to make a film exploring that fragile and delicate transition when dancers [are mandated to] leave the Opéra at the age of 42. A former dancer herself, she spent much of her childhood and adolescence at the Opéra before moving to Italy to join La Scala. When she made this proposal, what immediately interested me was seeing what remains of those many dance years in the dancers’ new lives. Émilie brought together friends: young dancers still at the Opéra, but also retired dancers, former principal dancers and former Étoiles [stars]. I really wanted us to be able to understand this transition through the eyes of people who have left the world of dance either completely or partially: Caroline Bance, now an upholsterer; Stéphane Bullion, a photographer and teacher; Audric Bezard, who wants to retrain as a landscape gardener; Yann Bridard, now an architect; and finally Alice Renavand, who has a new project to set up a senior company within the Paris Opéra. 

Émilie organises a festival in Italy every year, and we wanted the former dancers to dance with the younger ones, as a mirror of what they once were, and for the younger ones, a mirror of what they will become. Working with the former dancers, I learnt humility: that nothing is guaranteed, that injury can knock you down, that you have to relearn and start all over again. It is extremely difficult. I think these stories resonate with us. There are so many people who, at some point in their careers, have to start all over again. It’s something that happens to everyone.

Simon: Both of your work seems to revolve often around objects made by hand by gifted artisans. Isabelle, your entire book is a study and celebration of incredible makers. Would you like to discuss your own inspirations? 

Isabelle: I am touched and moved by people who strive to live out their dreams, and whose quiet talent touches me deeply. That is why I love those who are quiet. Behind that silence lies a passion for their work, a devotion to living according to their convictions. This is also why I love filming artisans so much.

Simon: What things have you read and/or seen lately that moved, excited or even angered you? 

Isabelle: I have just re-read Victor Hugo’s “Les Misérables”. This book was a real revelation to me: in terms of humanity, ecology, the quality of the writing, and the way a narrative is constructed. I’d wake François up and say: “Listen to this passage, it’s so beautiful, so powerful; it resonates so intensely today.”

Last week, I watched the Oscar-winning documentary, “Mr Nobody Against Putin”. It’s explosive. At first, I only saw the form and not the content. Then, as it went on, we were swept up by the courage of this man who denounces the indoctrination of young Russians in schools. He puts himself in danger and even today, he risks his life to expose this tragedy. 

Gladys: Recently, I was touched by [the novel] “La Villa” by Brigitte Benkemoun. It’s about memory, inheritance and how places shape us. It resonates a lot with my work, the idea that spaces carry invisible stories. 

I was also recently very moved by Anselm Kiefer’s exhibition at Palazzo Reale in Milan called “Le Alchimiste”. The work is very powerful: the scale, the material and the subject. [The exhibition charts the influence of forgotten female figures who played a crucial role in the birth of modern scientific thought.] But also the space itself [sumptuous ballroom the Sala delle Cariatidi] still carries the traces of [the Second World War]. The walls, the damaged sculptures, everything is full of memory. And within that, these large and beautiful canvases, often connected to female figures, almost like silent presences. There was a very strong dialogue between the space and the work. Something almost spiritual. I’m still dreaming of it and it’s been three weeks since I saw it. 

Simon: Gladys, as someone who obviously feels a strong emotional impact from art and to objects, I’m intrigued to know how you part with something from the collection when someone else wants to buy it? 

Gladys: I get this question quite a bit. All the pieces that we acquire are objects that could live with us forever. We don’t think commercially, but we think more about the pieces that will touch us and give us emotion. We don’t think, “what will match our sofa?”

In the early years, I couldn’t answer it because you don’t choose where the work goes, or if you will see a piece again. So, in the beginning, I would see pieces that I really liked and enjoyed looking at but they would go and I would never see them again. Now, with age – good things come with age – I understand that we are really lucky because we can live with those pieces for a certain time, we look at them, we enjoy them for a moment, and then they go somewhere else, and they continue their own life. 

If you were not a dealer, if you were a collector, you would need a lot of money to do that, because you can fall in love with one piece and the next day another one and another one. As a collector you want to keep everything, but as a dealer you are lucky to own a piece even for a day or two, even a year, but at least you had the chance to see, to understand, to appreciate it. When pieces go to collectors we admire, or museums, that makes us proud. 

Simon: It must be amazing to see your pieces in museums? 

Gladys: Yes. It’s a long process, because it needs to go past many committees, but in the end, when it is displayed in the museum, we feel like, “Wow, we did it!” Last time we went to New York, to the Metropolitan Museum, and they had just displayed a statue of Pan, Roman, circa 2nd century AD, that we sold to them two or three years ago, and I took 200 pictures [laughs]. 

Isabelle: Where do you find the pieces? 

Gladys: It’s mostly auction houses. We need to understand their provenance, this is very important of course. 

Simon: We’ve talked a lot about emotional objects, things that move us and how the world might change but let’s get cerebral! What is art? And what is it for? 

Isabelle: What is art? It’s what you can feel through the language of the artist. Yesterday, I was at an exhibition, “Matisse 1941-1951” at the Grand Palais, and I had this feeling of joy. The colours felt healthy! I think art, like music, can bring all of your body into focus. François didn’t speak until he was 12 years old. Everybody said he was completely healed by Mozart. Art is a kind of medicine.

Gladys: Objects must give you an emotion. That’s art, in fact. It’s why art is so important in my life at least. It does not just bring me joy it’s… 

Isabelle: It’s therapy.

Gladys: Exactly. It’s a therapy. Life without it would be unimaginable. Art enters your soul. It’s very personal. Art is a way to make things present. Present to ourselves, to others, to time. It creates connections, between past and present, between the intimate and the collective, between what is visible and what is not. 

Simon: One thing I think we should talk about given that we’re in the capital of couture is fashion. How would you describe your style? Do you follow fashion?

Isabelle: My style is more 1940s than today’s silhouettes. I do love fashion, yes, because I love colours, fabrics and design. During the Covid lockdown, I found myself stuck at my husband’s place, whose studio is in Arles. I hadn’t imagined we’d be stuck there for two months. I only had a small suitcase, and during those two months, I rummaged through his wardrobes and borrowed his clothes. It was perfect. I’d say I feel most comfortable in a fairly minimalist style, a bit masculine, but with a touch of femininity. I love Martin Grant’s timeless coats, and I mix things up by always pinching François’ shirts. For the past two years, I’ve been going to Kerala, in India. I found two tailors on the beach, Vishnu and Bijoux, and they’re the ones who make my entire summer wardrobe. I enjoy adapting Indian men’s clothing in cheerful colours and I try to stick to what suits me; that’s the benefit of age – after all these years, you know what looks good on you. 

Gladys: I would describe my style as classic but with a modern edge. I am drawn to timeless, well-cut pieces, that have a way of giving you immediate confidence. I was born in Nice, which gives me a slightly different perspective on Parisian style, something I have always found fascinating for its effortless, understated elegance. I enjoy exploring vintage designer clothing, especially with my daughter, Paloma. It is something we love doing together, searching, discovering and sharing pieces that have history and character. I see fashion and art as deeply connected. They share the same language of beauty and wellbeing, so fashion naturally resonates with me, even if I follow it from a distance. It could also be a source of inspiration. I am very attracted to colour, even if I don’t always find it easy to wear. I tend to wear a lot of darker tones, perhaps too much, but on a grey day, a touch of colour can instantly lift the mood. 

Simon: Our last question is always the same. How would you define beauty? 

Isabelle: For Stendhal [French novelist], ‘beauty is nothing but a promise of happiness. Grace is even more beautiful than beauty, for it possesses the charms of the unexpected, whereas beauty is bound to the idea we form of it.’ 

This is quite surprising, for me beauty can be both the beauty of “wabi”, dull and imperfect; and “mono no aware”, a Japanese aesthetic and spiritual concept which might be described as the beauty of the ephemeral, or the realisation of that which is destined to vanish. It differs from a Western conception of beauty that sees only majesty and perfection, yet this notion of Western and Baroque beauty also moves me. It is like appreciating Elizabethan music and the musical arrangements of Soundwalk Collective. All of this hinges on a magical moment when your mind unites with your body to express a feeling that transcends you and moves you. 

Gladys: Beauty is not about perfection. It’s more about a kind of rightness, something very fragile. Something that stops you, without really knowing why. It can be quiet, imperfect, even incomplete. But it creates an immediate, almost physical emotion. And it stays.