The art of the invisible exhibition: How the musée des arts et métiers is reinventing ecological scenography

This equation, long deemed impossible, is becoming the new norm. Since 2021, France’s National Strategy for Culture and Sustainable Development has required cultural institutions to cut their emissions by 50% by 2030. Far from stifling creativity, this constraint is pushing museums to innovate. The Centre Pompidou has already announced a complete overhaul of its storage facilities by 2026, while the Louvre is experimenting with "low-carbon" loans between European institutions. But it is at the Musée des Arts et Métiers that the most advanced model is taking shape—a model where every scenographic choice, every material, every kilometre travelled by an artwork is scrutinised through a simple question: how can we do just as well, or even better, with less?

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01The museum confronts its carbon footprint: the impossible equation

Until 2020, no one really measured the environmental impact of an exhibition. Then came the shocking report from the Agency for Ecological Transition (ADEME): a retrospective like Picasso. Blue and Rose at the Musée d’Orsay in 2018 had emitted the equivalent of 1,200 tonnes of CO₂—equal to 240 round trips between Paris and New York by plane. The transport of artworks alone accounted for 60% of this total, followed by scenographic materials (25%) and gallery energy use (15%).

Faced with these figures, museums initially responded with cosmetic measures: LED bulbs, the elimination of paper catalogues, carbon offsetting. But these gestures, however commendable, were not enough. "We were offsetting emissions that we could have avoided," sums up Valérie Guillaume, director of the Musée des Arts et Métiers. Carbon Footprint marks a turning point: for the first time, emission reduction becomes the starting point of the design process, not an afterthought.

The challenge was considerable. How to reconcile. Artistic rigour: an exhibition must impress, surprise, move. Scientific precision: every choice must be justified by hard data. Budget constraints: sustainable solutions often cost more in the short term.

The answer? An unprecedented collaboration between curators, architects, and sustainability engineers. The collective Encore Heureux, specialists in eco-design, joined the team from the outset. "We started by listing everything we couldn’t do," explains Julien Choppin, co-founder of the collective. "No international loans, no new materials, no energy-guzzling lighting. Then we looked for alternatives that met the same aesthetic and narrative goals."

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02The materials that change everything: from mycelium to mushroom display cases

If Carbon Footprint strikes visitors, it is first through its aesthetics. The walls are not painted but covered in mycelium panels—a material grown from agricultural waste and fungi, which develops in a matter of days and can be composted at the end of its life. The display cases, traditionally made of glass and aluminium, are here crafted from PLA (a biodegradable plastic derived from corn starch) and 95% recycled aluminium. Even the flooring has been rethought: no more new parquet or disposable carpet, but cork—a renewable, insulating, and antistatic material.

These choices are no accident. Each material was selected according to three criteria. Its carbon footprint: mycelium, for example, stores CO₂ as it grows. Its circularity: can it be reused, recycled, or composted? Its impact on the visitor experience: a mycelium wall offers a unique, almost organic texture that dialogues with the artworks on display.

Among the most remarkable innovations. "Living walls": structures made of raw earth mixed with straw, which naturally regulate humidity and reduce the need for air conditioning. Seed-paper labels: after the exhibition, visitors can plant them to grow flowers. Hemp-concrete plinths: a bio-sourced material that advantageously replaces traditional concrete, responsible for 8% of global CO₂ emissions.

"The most surprising thing is that these materials don’t limit creativity—they stimulate it," observes Marie-Sophie Corcy, chief curator. "An artist like Tatiana Trouvé, whose work explores the memory of places, immediately saw the potential of mycelium walls. For her, it was a way to make her art dialogue with the museum’s industrial history."

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03The headache of loaned artworks: when local becomes a strength

The transport of artworks is the biggest source of CO₂ emissions in an exhibition. For Carbon Footprint, the Musée des Arts et Métiers made a radical decision: no international loans. "It was a political choice, but also an artistic one," explains Lionel Dufaux, head of contemporary collections. "We wanted to show that it was possible to mount an ambitious exhibition by drawing solely from French and European collections."

This constraint gave rise to an unprecedented approach. "Low-carbon" loans: artworks travel by train or shared truck, with GPS tracking to optimise routes. Digital doubles: some key pieces, like James Watt’s steam engine, are presented as interactive 3D replicas, allowing visitors to manipulate them virtually. Collaborations with FRACs: Regional Contemporary Art Funds, often underused, become key partners for local loans.

The result? The carbon footprint linked to transport was divided by four. But this approach raises questions. "Some curators accused us of sacrificing diversity," admits Valérie Guillaume. "But is that really the case? By focusing on local loans, we rediscover forgotten artists and overlooked collections. It’s another form of ambition."

A striking example: Chris Jordan’s Carbon Sink, initially planned for the exhibition, was replaced by Eva Jospin’s Forêt noire—a monumental installation made of recycled cardboard, just as visually powerful but produced 500 km from Paris instead of 8,000.

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04Lighting, the poor relation of eco-design

In an exhibition, lighting can account for up to 30% of energy consumption. Yet it is often the last element to be optimised. Carbon Footprint breaks with this habit by integrating lighting from the very start of the design process.

The museum called on Lumière et Couleur, a firm specialising in sustainable museum lighting. Their approach rests on three principles. Natural light: the galleries were redesigned to maximise daylight, with skylights and directional reflectors. Full-spectrum LEDs: less energy-hungry than halogens, they faithfully reproduce the colours of the artworks. Motion sensors: lights automatically turn off in unoccupied areas.

"The biggest challenge wasn’t the technology, but the habits," confesses Thomas Viguier, technical manager. "Curators were worried the artworks wouldn’t be properly showcased. We had to run real-world tests to convince them."

A concrete example: James Bridle’s Data Shadow, an installation that uses projectors to materialise surveillance data. Instead of conventional projectors, the team opted for low-energy LED models paired with motion sensors. The result: the work is just as striking but consumes 70% less energy.

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05The visitor as a player in the transition

An ecological exhibition is not just about materials or carbon footprints. It must also engage the public. Carbon Footprint integrates this dimension through several interactive features. The "carbonometer": a touchscreen lets visitors calculate the carbon footprint of their visit based on their mode of transport. "Green pledges": on leaving, visitors can commit to an eco-friendly action (taking the train instead of flying, reducing meat consumption, etc.). These pledges are displayed on a digital wall. Repair workshops: in partnership with Repair Cafés, the museum organises sessions to teach visitors how to fix everyday objects instead of throwing them away.

"We didn’t want a preachy exhibition," clarifies Marie-Sophie Corcy. "The idea is to show that everyone can act, in their own way. Even a small gesture, multiplied by millions of visitors, can make a difference."

This approach is bearing fruit. According to a study conducted during the exhibition’s first three months, 68% of visitors say they have changed their habits after their visit. "That’s far more than we hoped for," rejoices Valérie Guillaume. "It proves that museums have a role to play in the ecological transition, well beyond their walls."

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06The economic model: when ecology becomes profitable

For a long time, museums believed that ecology was expensive. Carbon Footprint proves the opposite. The exhibition’s budget stands at €1.2 million—30% less than a comparable event. How is this possible?

Cost-sharing: the museum rented equipment (lighting, display cases) instead of buying it. The mycelium panels, for example, were made by a Lyon-based startup and will be reused for other exhibitions. Innovative partnerships: SNCF offered discounted train fares to visitors in exchange for visibility in the exhibition. The result: 42% of visitors came by train, compared to an average of 28%. Waste reduction: at the end of the exhibition, 90% of the materials will be reused or recycled. The mycelium panels will be composted to fertilise the museum’s gardens.

"We realised that ecology wasn’t a cost but an optimisation lever," analyses Julien Choppin. "By rethinking our processes, we cut expenses while improving the exhibition’s quality."

This logic is beginning to spread. The Centre Pompidou has announced it will apply the same principles to its next retrospective in 2026. "It’s a matter of survival," says Bernard Blistène, former director of the museum. "Visitors expect cultural institutions to set an example. If we don’t adapt, we risk becoming obsolete."

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07And tomorrow? Towards post-carbon art

Carbon Footprint is just a first step. Tomorrow’s exhibitions might look like this. Nomadic museums: travelling exhibitions designed to move by train and adapt to different venues. Living artworks: installations that evolve over time, like mycelium walls that grow during the exhibition. Dematerialised collections: virtual loans for artworks too fragile or too distant, with augmented reality replicas.

"The challenge is no longer just to reduce our impact but to completely rethink our relationship with art," says Hans Ulrich Obrist, artistic director of the Serpentine Galleries. "What if an exhibition were no longer a one-off event but a continuous process, in dialogue with its environment?"

One thing is certain: the carbon-guzzling "blockbuster" model is fading. In its place emerges a new form of exhibition, where artistic ambition and ecological responsibility are no longer antagonists but complements. As Valérie Guillaume puts it: "We’re not making art despite ecology. We’re making art thanks to it."

What if that’s the real revolution?