Monumental, Huge 30'L New York City Skyline Painting, Bourdelle, Maloubier, 1957

This is one of those pieces that still feels slightly… unhinged to be talking about like it’s a normal thing.

Because it’s not.

This is a 1957 painting by Pierre Bourdelle, created in collaboration with Jacques Maloubier, and it measures a completely unreasonable almost 10 feet tall by 30 feet wide. That is not a typo. That is not an exaggeration. That is roughly the size of a billboard. The kind of scale that makes you question your life choices while you’re standing next to it.

I genuinely don’t know how this ended up in my possession, and I mean that in the most respectful, slightly bewildered way possible. This is the kind of work you expect to encounter in a museum, or in a civic building with terrazzo floors and a docent who won’t let you get too close.

And yet… here we are.

After spending time with it (because you have to—this thing does not allow for a casual glance), it reveals itself as a sweeping, most cinematic depiction of the New York City skyline. At the center, glowing like it knows it’s the main character, is the New York Central Building rendered in a warm golden tone. In the foreground, the New York Central Railroad cuts through with that rhythmic, almost hypnotic geometry—movement, industry, ambition, all of it. And off to the left, is St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church anchoring the composition with a kind of quiet, architectural calm.

It’s New York, but seen through a European lens. Slightly romanticized. Slightly stylized. Entirely intentional.

And then—because Bourdelle clearly had a sense of humor—there’s the detail that absolutely seals it.

Tucked near the artists’ signatures is a small scene: a mouse preparing to drop a brick on a cat. Yes. That is actually in this massive, museum-scale work. This was confirmed during authentication by Peter Bourdelle, Pierre’s son, who shared that his father had a deep affection for the Krazy Kat comic strip and would often weave that motif into his work. It’s subtle, it’s mischievous, and once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Which somehow makes this enormous, serious, architectural piece feel… human.

Pierre Bourdelle, for context, was not casually painting oversized canvases for fun. He was a French muralist and artist deeply involved in large-scale public and architectural commissions, most notably contributing to the interior works of Cincinnati’s Union Terminal—one of the great Art Deco landmarks in the United States. His work there, along with other major commissions including projects tied to international exhibitions and Olympic-related installations, reflects a practice rooted in scale, storytelling, and an understanding of how art lives within space. His compositions weren’t meant to decorate—they were meant to define environments.

Jacques Maloubier, his collaborator here, operated in a similar realm—working at the intersection of fine art and large-format design, where the line between painting and architecture starts to blur. Together, they created works that feel less like objects and more like experiences.

This painting has been authenticated by Peter Bourdelle, which is not something you take lightly with a piece of this magnitude. It confirms not only its authorship, but the intention behind it—and even that wonderfully strange Krazy Kat reference tucked inside.

From a practical standpoint, the piece is currently on canvas and will need to be stretched onto a frame. I can absolutely coordinate that here in Los Angeles with a trusted professional if needed.

But let’s be honest—this is not a practical object.

This is not something you hang because you need art on a wall.

This is something you build a wall around.

Something you design a room for.

Something that shifts the entire gravity of a space the moment it enters.

Because pieces like this don’t just exist quietly.

They arrive, take over, and politely (or not so politely) let everything else know it’s been demoted.

If you’ve ever wanted to own something that feels like it slipped out of a museum, bypassed every logical checkpoint, and somehow landed in your orbit…

this is that moment.

(Human for scale in one of the photos. I'd have loved to photograph this beauty in my showroom, but it's just too big for any of my walls. Such an incredible piece!)