The Banque Vincent Bergerat (BVB), following the thread of questions which presided over its birth, NOTA BENE in RULES, has created the perfect tool to explore them further: a contemporary art collection.

BVB will build up this collection by ordering and intermittently purchasing works by artists living, dead or otherwise: paintings, scupture, photography, video, installations, immaterial art, etc. All of these works will concern matters dear to B.V.B. - in the case of the last two years (2010-12): boredom and its sattelites.

Boredom, as a fundamental part of life at work. Boredom of the office, of the desk, of any object or place becomming the office or the desk, even the bed. Boredom of too many figures, lines, phones, desktop computers, tablets, open spaces, boredom of availability in return for a salary, of a presence whose purpose slowly fades. Boredom of lunch-breaks and paid leaves.
Here, thousands of authors can be quoted (we'll someday quote Martin Heidegger and his description of the perfect outside dinner evening) for now, it will be Michel Houellebecq (exerpt from "Les pics de pollution"):



"Tu déjeuneras seul
d'un panini saumon,
dans la rue de Choiseul
et tu trouveras ça bon".

"You will lunch on your own
On panini saumon
In the rue de Choiseul
And you will think, c'est bon."*

Boredom micro-fissuring the smooth and finished. The precious moment of idleness, its unlimited extension of possibilities, its peculiar way of forming the thick Etnaïan coating of pale grey, lukewarm snow, of toning everything down with its coat/wrapping whose hollowed silhouette we will later contemplate, full of echoes of an old content become incomprehensible; its power of annihilation and its fecundity. Its way of sheltering the bare necessities of all action, all thought, all, all, all. From the rolling office chair race to the most promising resignation letters. Here I might quote Georges Bataille : "Il n'est pas de sentiment qui jette dans l'éxubérance avec plus de force que celui du néant. Mais en rien l'exubérance n'est l'anéantissement : c'est le dépassement de l'attitude attérée, c'est la transgression".
"There is no feeling that plunges us into exuberance with as much force as that of annihilation. But such exuberance has nothing to do with annihilation: it exceeds consternation, it is transgression itself."** Georges Bataille, L'érotisme, Minuit, 1985, P78.

SCHEDULE
August/September 2010 first purchases.

*Traduction Jordan Mintzer & Vincent Bergerat. **Traduction Jordan Mintzer.