I recently read that the American sculptor Richard Serra did two things when he was a young man living in Paris; he used to go to the restaurant La Coupole with another young American, the composer Phillip Glass, and eat supper there just so he could watch Giacometti eat his supper.  The other thing he did was to spend all the time he could in Brancusi's studio, then installed in the Palais de Tokyo.

The sawtooth edge is a typical Brancusi trope for endlessness.

The second picture is of the sculptor's studio, as it was at the time of his death.  Designer Patrick Jouin has spoken, almost religiously, of the studio as a place of ancient and poetical magic, a locus of the divine.