Paul Hameline’s Happy Accidents: “The world is kind of fucked, kind of messy. (So are we, no?)”

Paul Hameline’s first curated exhibition features works by Marilou Bal, David Benedikt Wirth, William S. Burroughs, Tom Chatenet, Derek Jarman, Catherine Mulligan, Taylor Marie Prendergast and Patrick Quinn.

Ahead of the opening, we spoke to Paul about the evolution of the show, the agony and ecstasy of literature and the messiness inside us all.

How did ‘Happy Accidents’ come about?

I’ve been meaning to curate a show for a while. I wasn’t interested in curating a viewing room online during the pandemic. While in Venice a couple of years later, I saw ‘Stop Painting’ at Fondazione Prada, curated by Peter Fischli. I was in absolute awe. That’s what inspired me and sparked my desire to curate. I got back and started anew, motivated as ever.

Tell us more about the title

It’s self-explanatory. Accidents happen constantly. But while something not going according to plan is usually deemed ‘bad’, an accident can often actually lead to an incredible discovery: think LSD, X-rays, penicillin. The title refers to life more broadly – it ain’t sugar-coated every day. Some moments are more challenging than others; what matters is what you make of experiences and how you push through them to force positive outcomes.

What was your process for selecting the artworks?

I found the artists by researching on Instagram and by visiting several MFA degree shows. I then contacted the artists and sent them the text I wrote that was influenced by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin’s cut-up collage technique.

This text – that I hold close to my heart – is the backbone of the exhibition. It’s a stream of thoughts entirely free from didactic interpretation. Certain artists relate more to the intimate aspects, some to the more societal-data-hacking part, others to the notion of the experience, the eye, and so on.

Which was the first artwork you selected for the show, and the last?

The first one was David Benedikt Wirth’s The Graces (2023). The last one was Burroughs’ 44 Special (1994).

In the accompanying text, you talk about “Writing as painting / painting as writing” – and the show includes authors like Derek Jarman and Burroughs. Is literature a key influence?

Literature is everything; it’s ecstasy as well as agony. It makes you laugh and it makes you cry your eyes out. It inspires you, it transpires you. It motivates you, it depresses you. It discomforts you, it turns you on. It wounds you, it heals you. It’s a tool to sharpen the blade that is your mind and eye. It allows you to see and experience life differently. It enables you to learn.

At its core, literature teaches you to listen to others, their issues, their happiness, and their struggles. You feel for them; you feel for their loss, you feel for their love. It teaches us empathy, it teaches us how to be good and it teaches us how to be human.

What drew you to the darkness and sinister aesthetic of some of these works? 

The ‘darkness and sinister aesthetic’ is already present within the oxymoron ‘Happy Accident’. Think of Oscar Wilde’s Teleny, or, The Reverse of the Medal. Everything has a balance; for better or worse, everything has a price. Think of the invention of the car or the plane; simultaneously, the car crash and the plane crash were invited. The world is often a dark place. It’ll swallow you whole and spit you right out. It’s kind of fucked, kind of messy. (So are we, no?) All we can do is move forward and try to make the world a better place.

“A match struck in the dark shines its light over so much more than the match itself.”

One must face oneself as a whole in order to grow. The good as well as the bad. The light as well as the darkness. Again, it’s a question of balance and how you allow yourself, your experience, and your life to become something good for yourself, others, and the world around you.

What attracted you to the space at Galerie Sultana?

I first came to Galerie Sultana for a Walter Pfeiffer show in 2013 (which I still remember very vividly, despite it being eleven years ago). A few years later, when I moved back to Paris, Guillaume and I met through mutual friends and just from often visiting his gallery.

I briefly mentioned to him that I was in the process of curating my first show, which I was initially going to organise independently. One morning, whilst having coffee, he generously offered his gallery to host it. It completely caught me off guard in the best possible way. The rest is history 🙂