The Côte d’Azur has long been more than just a glamorous stretch of coastline—it has stood as one of Europe’s most storied hubs of art and creativity. At the turn of the 20th century, artists such as Matisse, Picasso, Chagall, and Bonnard were drawn there, captivated by the extraordinary light, the vivid colors of the Mediterranean, and the slower rhythm of life. What began as a retreat for painters seeking inspiration grew into a flourishing art scene that continues to this day, blending historic ateliers with contemporary galleries and international collectors.

In this conversation, Justyna Grzes, an art professional who made the South of France her new base after a decade immersed in the UK art world, shares her reflections on the evolving cultural landscape of the Riviera. She offers an insider’s perspective on a region quietly reimagining its place on the global art map.

You spent a decade in London. How would you describe your move to the South of France? A lifestyle change, professional pivot—or both?

It was definitely both—a lifestyle shift and a professional recalibration—with maybe a touch of sun-chasing rebellion. I loved London, especially its layered and vibrant art scene. From Cork Street and the Tate to experimental artist-run spaces in East London, it was an ecosystem buzzing with ideas and ambition. With Brexit and the pandemic reshaping the city’s energy, the momentum began to feel different, I started spending summers in the South of France and found it increasingly difficult to leave.

Professionally, it began to make sense too. The South has deep roots with collectors and is home to institutions like the Fondation Maeght, Fondation Carmignac, and CAB. Sotheby’s was scaling back in London while expanding in Paris. The French art scene was gaining strategic weight. What started as a dream began to look like a smart, long-term move. And so far, it’s been everything I’d hoped for.

How do the art scenes in London and the South of France differ in terms of audience, pace, and opportunity?

They operate on completely different frequencies. London is about speed, spectacle, and discourse. It has a strong academic backbone—with institutions like the Royal Academy, the Slade, and Goldsmiths—which fosters intellectual rigor and constant reinvention. It’s a place where artists, curators, critics, and theorists cross-pollinate ideas at lightning speed.

The South of France, on the other hand, is a place of atmosphere and longevity. Here, the art scene isn’t built on shock or urgency—it’s more about thoughtful conversations over long lunches, cultural heritage, and deep relationships with collectors. It’s less “white cube” and more “champagne by the sculpture garden.”

Historically, artists came here for the light—Picasso, Matisse, Chagall among others—however rising living costs have made it harder for emerging artists to settle. There’s a need for more cultural infrastructure to support the next generation of creatives. That’s something I’d love to help cultivate.

At the heart of it, I believe artists and writers don’t just describe the landscape—they shape it. The pictures we see, the stories we tell—they filter how we perceive a place. And the Riviera has long been a canvas for the world’s imagination.

Photo by Michalina Franasik. View in Beaulieu-sur-Mer.

How has the Riviera shaped cultural mythology over time?

When we think of the French Riviera, it’s not just a place—it’s a narrative, a mythology. We picture Picasso’s sun-drenched canvases, Fitzgerald’s melancholic prose, Hitchcock’s glamorous thrillers. We see Matisse’s luminous windows in Nice, Raoul Dufy’s regattas, Chagall’s pastel dreams, and Yves Klein’s ultramarine skies.

We hear Charles Trenet’s La Mer drifting in the background. There’s Cary Grant and Grace Kelly racing along the Corniche in To Catch a Thief, or F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald dancing under the pines in Cap d’Antibes. Then came Brigitte Bardot, barefoot in And God Created Woman, rebranding Saint-Tropez with a burst of postwar sensuality and freedom.

There is a layered iconography and what excites me is how contemporary voices are adding new layers to this mythology.

What’s the residency landscape like in the South? Are artists and curators being supported?

New artist residencies are appearing each year, and local governments are slowly recognizing the value of investing in culture. Dragon Hill in Mouans-Sartoux is a great example—a mid-century gem being transformed into a hybrid exhibition-residency space. Villa Arson in Nice continues to be a vital anchor with its progressive programming.

Private patrons are also stepping in—creating more informal formats: residencies in vineyards, salons in modernist villas, even mobile retreats. There’s a real desire to revive the creative energy of the Belle Époque—not just in aesthetics, but in substance.

What was your experience like at Monaco Art Week?

Surprisingly personal. There’s sophistication and an intimacy that larger fairs often lack. This year’s edition, under Charlotte Diwan’s new direction, was particularly sharp. The programming was thoughtful, the gallery list refined, and the scale allowed for real conversations.

I found myself talking to collectors like Patrizia Sandretto Re Rebaudengo and dealers like Simon de Pury—the kind of access you rarely get at Art Basel or Frieze. That said, attendance felt a little thinner this year—it overlapped with a Centre Pompidou gala and several other major events. And many locals had already left for cooler climates or were attending One Masters, a parallel fair focused on jewelry and classical works.

Could the Riviera become the next Miami of the art world? Or is it charting its own course?

Miami is brilliant at what it does: spectacle, scale, and sun-drenched art commerce. It’s tempting to draw that parallel, especially with the tax benefits, yacht culture, and recent gallery investments.

The Riviera in contrast to Miami is built on legacy and nuance. Its cities each carry their own distinct identity: Antibes and Beaulieu are refined and discreet; Monaco and Cannes embrace flash, with mega-yachts, casinos, and extravagant parties.

There’s a visible split. Some collectors here crave visibility—take Christian Levett always wearing his iconic FAMM (Femmes Artistes du Musée de Mougins) Museum baseball cap—while others prefer private dinners and quiet salons.

Local governments are similarly divided: some support thoughtful, site-sensitive art; others back monumental installations, like a roaring lion by Orlinski, more reminiscent of Dubai or Miami.

That tension exists everywhere here—between heritage and innovation, local and international, subtlety and spectacle. I smiled recently at a political debate that captured this perfectly: some residents questioned whether the now-iconic I Love Nice sign should instead read J’aime Nice. The language choice sparked deeper questions about identity.

Maybe the future of the Côte d’Azur isn’t about picking sides, but about reimagining its identity entirely.

When is the best time to visit the South of France for art? Any must-see events?

The beauty of this region is that art happens year-round, thanks to the climate, summer is when things truly come alive. From late June through early September, there’s a rich calendar: Les Rencontres d’Arles, Monaco Art Week, the Design Parades in Hyères and Toulon.

Private foundations open their doors with seasonal exhibitions in spectacular settings. Even smaller towns like Vence, Mougins, and Eze come alive with studio visits and pop-ups. You might find yourself walking through a villa garden only to discover a Calder sculpture tucked among the olive trees. You don’t just see art here—you live with it.

What are you most looking forward to this late summer? Any insider tips?

Late summer into early autumn is ideal—the light softens, the sea stays warm, and everything becomes more intimate. I’m especially looking forward to artist salons and quiet gatherings in tucked-away villas.

On the public side, the Plein Sud program is exceptional. In 2025, it will connect over 75 institutions across the region. Highlights include:

  • Musée d’Art Moderne de Céret, celebrating its 75th anniversary with a reflective program.

  • NMNM (New National Museum of Monaco) in the beautiful Villa Paloma, presenting Cactus, exploring botanical symbolism, alongside Les Années Folles de Coco Chanel, about Gabrielle Chanel’s Riviera years.

Do you have any tips for new journeys to the South of France?

Book early at La Colombe d’Or where Miró and Léger still overlook the dining room. Explore lesser-known places in Nice’s old town, like Hôtel du Couvent, or quiet gems in Antibes. Stay in boutique hotels with hidden art collections.

What surprised you most after relocating?

The complexity beneath the postcard. I used to think of the Riviera as a retreat—a place for rest, not production. It’s far more layered.

There’s a quiet migration happening: artists from London, Berlin, and New York are moving here. Marseille is buzzing with new energy. Local scenes are pulsing with raw potential. A recent performance at the Fondation Maeght really captured that. Choreographer François Stemmer brought together local teenagers to perform in front of blue-chip works by Chagall, Miró, and Giacometti. It was unexpected, dissonant, and deeply emotional.

That’s when I had that eureka moment: this place isn’t just a dreamscape. It’s a site of contrasts—light and shadow, privilege and precarity.