French Artist Begins Giant ‘Cave’ Art Inflation Over Paris’ Oldest Bridge

People walk along the Seine river next to "The Pont Neuf Cave," an inflated art installation by French street artist JR, on Paris' oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf, Thursday, May 21, 2026, which will be open to the public from June 6-28. (AP Photo/Michel Euler)
People walk along the Seine river next to "The Pont Neuf Cave," an inflated art installation by French street artist JR, on Paris' oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf, Thursday, May 21, 2026, which will be open to the public from June 6-28. (AP Photo/Michel Euler)
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French Artist Begins Giant ‘Cave’ Art Inflation Over Paris’ Oldest Bridge

People walk along the Seine river next to "The Pont Neuf Cave," an inflated art installation by French street artist JR, on Paris' oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf, Thursday, May 21, 2026, which will be open to the public from June 6-28. (AP Photo/Michel Euler)
People walk along the Seine river next to "The Pont Neuf Cave," an inflated art installation by French street artist JR, on Paris' oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf, Thursday, May 21, 2026, which will be open to the public from June 6-28. (AP Photo/Michel Euler)

The oldest bridge in Paris has begun to vanish this week, as the artist JR — who is known as the “French Banksy” — began inflating a giant “cave” over the Pont Neuf.

The monumental, rocky illusion is swallowing the 17th-century landmark, which has carried Parisians across the Seine for more than 400 years. By Thursday, it looked as if a prehistoric cliff had risen in the heart of the city.

The inflation process, which was carried out overnight — after being delayed by bad weather — is the most dramatic stage yet of a project more than a year in the making.

One of the most ambitious public artworks Paris has seen in decades, which has been funded by the sale of JR’s work and a handful of corporate partners, does not open to the public until June 6.

“We’re about to leave something pretty incredible in the middle of Paris,” JR told The Associated Press earlier this year at his studio in the city’s east, wearing his trademark hat and shades.

The transformation of the bridge has been documented by the AP since March with time-lapse cameras, including one fixed on a rooftop terrace high above the river, watching the bridge slowly disappear day by day.

From the outside, the installation looks like a rocky mass that “literally” breaks the landscape, said JR, who is famous for pasting enormous photographs on buildings, walls and rooftops around the world. This time he wanted Parisians to do something unusual on their busiest bridge: stop.

Visitors will be able to walk for free through a long, dark tunnel that lets in no daylight and where, according to JR, people “will lose track of time.”

The numbers are startling. The structure is 120 meters (393 feet) long and 18 meters (59 feet) tall — which is as high as a six-story building.

Yet it is built almost entirely from air — 80 fabric arches filled with 20,000 cubic meters of it — and weighs only about five tons. The fabric was hand stitched by 25 artisans in a village in Brittany.

Nothing digs into the historic stone.

Cut the air and the cliff would sink like a held breath — a collapse JR’s engineers spent weeks rehearsing in a hangar at Orly airport to be sure that if the power ever failed, the rock would come down gently.

The artwork, called La Caverne du Pont Neuf, is a tribute to a Parisian artistic legend.

In 1985, artist Christo and his wife, Jeanne-Claude, wrapped the same bridge in pale golden fabric — 13 kilometers of rope, a decade of arguing with city hall, three million visitors in two weeks. The act helped invent the idea of monumental art in modern cities.

A square beside the bridge now carries their names.

“It’s pretty hard to go after them,” JR said.

His idea, he said, is to bring “mineral and nature” back to the heart of the city. He is not covering the bridge but undressing it — sending the dressed stone back to the limestone quarries from which Paris itself was cut.

The cave is also a warning. JR built it as a nod to Plato’s allegory, in which prisoners mistake shadows on a wall for the real world.

“What are our caves today? Our phones,” he said. “Because we believe that our algorithm on social media is the reality.”

Then he walks straight into the contradiction: to enter his cave about screens, visitors raise their phones.

The tech company Snap has built an augmented-reality layer that shows what the eye cannot.
The sound is a low, mineral hum from Thomas Bangalter, formerly of Daft Punk — who was 10 the year Christo wrapped the bridge.

The cave will be open around the clock from June 6-28, closing the bridge to traffic and visible from the quays, from passing boats, even from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It will coincide with Paris Fashion Week, World Music Day and the all-night Nuit Blanche arts festival.

When it comes down, the fabric will be reused or recycled. Air, JR likes to say, leaves no scar.
Then, like the golden wrapping 40 years before, the cave will be gone — and the Pont Neuf, older than the republic and older than the revolution, will reappear exactly as it was.



The Black Stone: Sacred Landmark at the Heart of the Holy Kaaba

The Black Stone is located at a height of about one and a half meters from the Mataf surface. (SPA)
The Black Stone is located at a height of about one and a half meters from the Mataf surface. (SPA)
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The Black Stone: Sacred Landmark at the Heart of the Holy Kaaba

The Black Stone is located at a height of about one and a half meters from the Mataf surface. (SPA)
The Black Stone is located at a height of about one and a half meters from the Mataf surface. (SPA)

In the southeastern corner of the Holy Kaaba stands the Black Stone, the faith-filled landmark from which Tawaf begins and ends, drawing the hearts and eyes of millions of Muslims performing the sacred ritual, the Saudi Press Agency said on Thursday.

The Black Stone is located at a height of about one and a half meters from the Mataf surface. It appears black with a reddish tint, surrounded by a pure silver frame, and appears inside in the form of small cohesive parts held together by a binding substance.

During Tawaf, Muslims seek to kiss or touch the Black Stone, if feasible without hardship or crowding, or to point to it while reciting the Takbir, in adherence to the prophetic Sunnah, added the news agency.

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia gives special care to the Holy Kaaba and its landmarks, driven by its dedication to serving the Two Holy Mosques. The General Authority for the Care of the Affairs of the Grand Mosque and the Prophet’s Mosque conducts periodic maintenance, cleaning, and perfuming of the Black Stone using specialized personnel and modern technologies, including high-resolution imaging to document its features with precision.


Romanian Writer Cartarescu Hails Books as Balm in Turmoil

Mircea Cartarescu is the most translated contemporary Romanian writer. Daniel MIHAILESCU / AFP
Mircea Cartarescu is the most translated contemporary Romanian writer. Daniel MIHAILESCU / AFP
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Romanian Writer Cartarescu Hails Books as Balm in Turmoil

Mircea Cartarescu is the most translated contemporary Romanian writer. Daniel MIHAILESCU / AFP
Mircea Cartarescu is the most translated contemporary Romanian writer. Daniel MIHAILESCU / AFP

In an age of "overwhelming evil" and "generalised lies", Romanian novelist Mircea Cartarescu, a weaver of literary fantasies born from a childhood under a totalitarian regime, bets on writing to resist.

Literature is "like a bandage on a wound" in "frightening" times, Cartarescu told AFP at the launch of his latest book, a collection of aphorisms on writing, in Romania.

"These are times when we are threatened from so many sides that we no longer know what to guard against," he said, mentioning wars, social unrest, global warming and "ideological confusion".

Cartarescu, who turned 70 this year, is the most translated contemporary Romanian writer and has won many accolades, including the International Dublin Literary Award in 2024.

Real life and the imaginary merge in his novels, creating a universe that Cartarescu admits is an exercise in navel gazing.

"I write to be able to understand who I am," he has said.

- Childhood trauma -

Cartarescu, whose favorite writers are J. D. Salinger and Franz Kafka, has likened his writing process to termites building their nests without knowing the result in advance.

"I never wrote literature to publish books, but to live in them," he once said about his most recent novel, the 632-page "Theodoros", published in 2022.

Set in the 19th century, "Theodoros" tells the story of a servant's son who rises to become emperor.

Cartarescu has since been in no rush to finish another novel, but he has started on one -- though he told AFP it is "not a novel in the strict sense".

"It's something I've never written before, and I don't think anyone else has either," he said, refusing to go into further details.

Born in Bucharest in 1956 during a period he has previously described as "marked by poverty and terrible famine", the introverted boy was fascinated by literature from an early age.

As a student and then a teacher at the University of Bucharest, he lived only "through and for literature".

A huge fan of Bob Dylan, Cartarescu has translated 100 of the US folk singer's songs into Romanian and has described himself as a "beatnik, a liberal in the widest sense of the term".

But it was his childhood that marked him most and that he tries to rediscover, if not to relive, in his writings.

"It is the most obscure period, that which intrigues me most," he has said, pointing to the trauma of losing his twin brother at the age of 18 months.

"Nearly all that I write is linked to that. I have always felt that something was missing, as if I looked in a mirror and saw no one," he said in an interview with the Adevarul newspaper.

He blamed that death on the "awful conditions" in which his family lived -- they had just moved into a single filthy room in a working-class district of Bucharest.

- 'Collective madness' -

After years of deprivation, Cartarescu said December 22, 1989, when the totalitarian regime of Nicolae Ceausescu was overthrown, was "for all Romanians the happiest day".

Later, Cartarescu often advocated for the independence of the justice system, and took part in protests.

But in time he said he lost hope, especially after the pandemic, so he now prefers to stick to his writing.

In a published journal, he criticized the surge of a far-right candidate in the 2024 Romanian presidential elections as "collective madness".

He likens current times worldwide to those before World War II, but with added risks related to artificial intelligence, "the greatest threat to humanity".

He told AFP he would never use AI in his literature, nor read a book written with it, as his interest lies in exploring what is human.

"Why would I read the work of an insectoid or an alien?"

Dozens of his readers gathered in a Bucharest bookstore in October, listening in church-like silence to the novelist talk about his latest published work.

"We gather around a book to protest against a world that no longer resembles us," he told them.


Pakistan's Last Antique Restorers Give Old Treasures New Life

Restorer Shakeel Ahmed works on an antique at his workshop in Rawalpindi. Farooq NAEEM / AFP
Restorer Shakeel Ahmed works on an antique at his workshop in Rawalpindi. Farooq NAEEM / AFP
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Pakistan's Last Antique Restorers Give Old Treasures New Life

Restorer Shakeel Ahmed works on an antique at his workshop in Rawalpindi. Farooq NAEEM / AFP
Restorer Shakeel Ahmed works on an antique at his workshop in Rawalpindi. Farooq NAEEM / AFP

Sitting outside his small shop in a warren of alleyways in the ancient Pakistani city of Rawalpindi, Ahsan Shakeel buffed an antique brass pot to a high shine, pressing it against a mechanized wheel.

"We've removed all the dents, but it still needs polishing," the 72-year-old restorer, among the last still practising his craft, told AFP as the spinning buffer sent fine metal dust into the air.

Quitting a job as a hotel cook, Shakeel followed in his father's footsteps to become an antiques restorer, opening his workshop in the Bhabra Bazaar market in densely populated Rawalpindi in 1980.

Today, he is one of the last master restorers preserving antique metalware in Pakistan.

Rawalpindi's roots stretch back to prehistoric human settlements and over centuries the garrison city evolved into a major commercial hub where metalcraft from the Mughal and British colonial periods converged.

Moving inside his shop, Shakeel navigated wall-to-wall shelves stacked with centuries-old ewer jugs, samovars for boiling, dishes, jars and teapots, most of which were made of copper or brass.

He took down various items and enthusiastically explained to AFP their materials and origins.

The vintage items are now increasingly rare in the modern era in which they have been replaced by stainless steel and plastic kitchenware.

"I used to travel everywhere, Lahore, Gujranwala, Karachi, back and forth (to purchase antiques)," he said.

- 'Life back into the dead' -

Shakeel procures the items he restores mostly from scrap yards, ports, or household clearances.

"Often, the condition of the items is so bad that no one would buy them," he said.

The shop owner and his colleague Shakeel Ahmed restore the battered items by hammering out dents, re-tinning the interiors over coal fires, and polishing the metal. A badly damaged item could take a few days to fix.

After restoration, a piece can sell between $100 and $1,000. Shakeel's customers are mostly collectors or antique enthusiasts, including foreigners.

Today, he mostly relies on online platforms and messaging applications to buy and sell antiques.

"I don't have the same health anymore, so I travel less," he said.

Prices for antiques are on the increase but the number of customers has fallen over time, Shakeel said.

"The money doesn't turn over quickly in this business. It's a very slow trade," he said.

"Customers who still exist, they are not many. They collect these things because they understand these items. Those who don't understand them would think it's all useless," Shakeel added.

Ahmed said he enjoyed restoring worn and damaged objects because they carry stories within them from different communities in the past or historical periods.

"This is a very old thing," the 56-year-old man said at his own dimly lit workshop, as he gently used a small hammer to smooth out little dents on a large brass hookah pipe for smoking tobacco.

"What we do is like putting life back into the dead," Ahmed said.