The Art Post (day 3)

I awoke to Taïs and her mother running around, packing her suitcase at the last minute. Though quite late, she made her train to London and I began my day by walking to the Louvre.

Because of the White Night, everything was free on Sunday. The line to the Louvre was four hours and it was another three hour wait for Monet. I resolved to come early the next morning before my flight. I really wanted to go to both, and thought it'd be worth it to stand in line for that at this point. However, I had nothing to read! What a pity.

Can you find the golden arches in the shopping mall beneath the Louvre? (What is the world coming to?)

Frustrated, I moved on to the Centre Pompidou. There was absolutely no line. I really think the building itself is cool and the idea supporting its constructed implemented effectively throughout. The parameters of the original architectural competition "had to meet the criteria of interdisciplinarity, freedom of movement and flow, and an open approach to exhibition areas" (find the link here). 

Indeed, the building connects with the city in a way I have not seen before. Before the entrance is a very large courtyard of sorts, at a semi-steep incline so one can lay down and watch what is going on inside through the glass facade. This courtyard is a popular meeting and chilling place. There is a fountain on the other side of the building. An exhibition of Gabriel Orozco was in that room.

"La DS", Orozco 1993

According to the literature I picked up on Orozco outside the exhibit, he is "an artist in constant movement, with no fixed studio space [who] draws his inspiration from the sites he passes through and rejects the idea of national or regional identity [...] Incidents from daily life are central to his work which plays upon a poetry of chance and paradox. Boundaries between the art object and the everyday world are deliberately blurred, art is mingled with reality[...] For this exhibition, the artist has chosen to leave the Galerie Sud open without walls. [...] The artist makes a connection between the gallery and its urban surroundings, in a dialogue with the adjacent street, the restaurant tables and passers-by, recalling the importance of public spaces in his art. [...] the artist and the Centre Pompidou also present a performance conceived specifically for the exhibition involving actors playing the role of Mexican police guards 'imported' to take care of the works." Unfortunately I was not allowed to take photos in the gallery, but I've scrounged up some of my favorite of his photos on the internet...


This was a little more loosely laid out than the exhibit at the Pompidou, but it conveys the same sense of freedom and space.

Orozco exhibition at MOCA in 2000 (photo by Brian Forrest)

"Atomist: Making Strides" Orozco 1996

"Breath on Piano" Orozco 1993

"From Roof to Roof" Orozco 1993

"Island Within an Island" Orozco 1993

I also looked at this guy Saâdane Afif's exhibit, but was not a fan.


The Permanent Collection, however, was what I enjoyed most. 


Especially poignant was the feminist exhibit (called elles@centrepompidou), which explored parts of that movement in the visual arts. It was introduced by the "Guerrilla Girls"' manifesto:

 I really enjoyed the almost-entire room dedicated to Louise Bourgeois, who made the sculpture "hands":

It seems that all the pieces were part of one large work, credited as "My scalp / forehead / ears / the base of the skull / back of the neck / the back between the shoulder blades / the base of the ribs / Solar Plexus / the stomach / the esophogus / the throat / the intestines / the rectum / the legs / thighs / ankles / toes / the pelvis bones / the joints / the arms / forearms / hands / fingers / the pains and cramps / the breathing / the palpitations / the hot flushes / the perspiration / extreme extreme tension / the smell of the hunted animal."


I think she's really cool.


My other favorites from elles@centrepompidou:

"Chambre 202, Hôtel du Pavot" Dorothea Tanning 2009

A room of one's own?

"Bild" Miwa Ogasawara 2007

Much of the art in this particular exhibit struck me as rudimentary in some way (along the same lines as Bourgeois' piece). Perhaps this reflects the general feeling of being at the beginning of something, as the Guerrilla Girls suggest. Art made by women has never been paid much attention to, and now that it is (although it is in its own category, still defined by a difference) the artists are given the task of creating a new space for themselves in museums and galleries. I think that their art can be said to reflect that spirit of an early age, litearlly and figuratively. On the other hand, the sometimes un-pretty pieces are perhaps a rejection of expectations of art made by women and the implications of femininity.


Well, in terms of the rest of the art there, talk about a comprehensive collection! It really took me all day to walk through there, slowly and deliberately. I saw some old favorites of mine: Matisse, Picasso, Braque, Duchamp, Miro, Ernst, Man Ray, Dali, Modigliani; and discovered some new loves.

"Femme en Bleu" Picasso

"Le violon" Picasso

I also saw "Atelier de la Modiste" and the sketch "Minotaure" by Picasso.

"Autoportrait" Matisse 1900

"Portrait de Dèdie" Modigliani 1918

Unfortunately, my camera was running low on battery and I had to make it work for the next day so I didn't get as many photos as I wanted. The following I gleaned from the interwebs:

"Spitzen In Bogen" by Kandinsky

"Guilliaume Tell" Dali

I have pages and pages of notes on everything that I saw but it's too time consuming to find photos of every one and I think for you too boring to relate all of it. Suffice to say it was a lot, and it was great! I really enjoyed the way it was curated as well: loosely grouped according to the movements therein (Cubism, Dada). It was nice too to see a collection of Rauschenberg (though we have a few of his pieces at the Met), Duchamp, and even the filmmaker Bruce Connor, whose pieces were brought together just as they were at a show in New York in the 60's. 


With my iPod out of battery, my camera blinking with exhaustion and my blood sugar running low, I ran through the last few rooms (nothing but a few blinking neon sigts and some funhouse mirrors) and sat down to eat an apple. I called Lèa, my friend from the previous night. After the mutual realization of our mutual location and a mutual exclamation of disbelief (le monde est petit), I killed some time in the gift shop and met her outside. 


I was able to appreciate first-hand the community environment that was exemplified by the courtyard. We sat and Lèa immediately recognized a friend of hers, a busker who apparently hangs out there a lot. He have us a tambourine and maracas to help him with such classics (sung for my benefit) as "New York, New York" and "No Woman No Cry" (his version: "no woman, I die.")


I went on to Notre Dame and walked around, people watching and taking photos.

Hôtel de Ville, the mayor's office

Then, I walked down to Ile Saint-Louis, a quaint island in the middle of the Siene. Mostly residential, there is one main street with restaurants and shops. It was packed with pedestrians and tourists, wandering around and eating gelato.

I purchased a new scarf, since I had lost mine the day before. It's quite large, in the style of a Pashmina but it's 100% cotton and was made in India. 


After my ambling I met Lèa and some of her girlfriends for a drink. I ordered a beer and they were scandalized. "Bière?!" Nonplussed I answered "yo, yo" (Czech informal for 'yeah'). 


Then, Lèa took me to her apartment in Belleville, fed me dinner and watered me with lovely wine. Quite hospitable of her, I would say!

Lèa's flat

I successfully navigated the metro back to Taïs's place and after a brief chat fell into bed with exhaustion. Everyone was so welcoming everywhere I went, I was amazed. I think it has more to do with the fact that they are friends and family of a good friend of mine than the fact that they are French. Birds of a feather, they say, and it makes sense that all of us, who share relations and acquaintances, would get along so well. 

Paris Continued (Day 2)

Some bakeries release a fake scent of freshly-baked croissants to lure in customers. This isn't one of those places.

Taïs and I awoke early on Saturday to breakfast on a fresh croissant before heading to her godmother's film screening. Somehow we were 20 minutes late; having missed our stop on the metro we literally ran to the theater. Just as we breathlessly skidded to a stop outside the doors, Taïs' godmother walked out. "Quickly!" (I think) she said and shoved us through the doors. We took our seats as the opening credits were rolling.


I loved the film. It was called "L'Invention des jours heureux" ("The Invention of Happy Days"); Taïs' godmother Sandrine Dumas directed it. I understood basically everything except some anecdotal dialogue based mostly on visual cues but also my increasing grasp of French. It was beautifully shot and the plot was moving without being trite at all. It was a short and treated as such, provided a detailed snapshot of the lives of two women. Dumas seemed to recognize the impossibility of telling a whole story in a short time but it was a well-written chapter which did not want for contextualization. Though we walked in on their lives, it neither felt shallow nor did it seem that there was a world beyond our understanding.


Apres le film we walked to le Grand Palais to see the Monet exhibit. The line was three hours long and I didn't have a book, so after taking advantage of the photo op I accompanied Taïs to Bastille so she could have her guitar string fixed.

L'Arc de Triumph!

Grand Palais

This was the last time my scarf was seen...

And le Petit Palais:

We got into the lobby which was free to enter. Wow, it was beautiful.


I was so amazed by the beauty of the interior that I tried to capture it but of course nothing could convey that feeling. video here.

"We shall never surrender"; Winston Churchill

Charles de Gaulle

On the metro it struck me that the sound of the doors closing seems to be a recording of a single note on an accordion. Perhaps the first few times I assumed that it was the noise of a busker's accordion, as they are everywhere. 


Then another point struck me: my scarf was gone! O, beloved Salvation Army relic from freshman year. Ninety-nine-cent paisley possibly-silk-blend shawl (last seen in the picture of me jumping above)! I actually went back to the station we had just left but of course did not find it. I was confident in navigating the metro by myself and met Taïs  at the music shop in Bastille. There was a large protest also about social reform, one of the precursors to what's going on right now in Paris. 

Bastille Opera

July Column at Bastille

Bastille + Communism 

We walked around the neighborhood, stopping in a luxurious pastry shop to grab some chocolate... creations:

We walked around a bit, popping into Église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis for a look around:

Taïs showed me the neighborhood which was quite adorable, slightly less touristy than those we'd been around thus far:

Then found a great lunch spot. I'm salivating just thinking about it... toasted American-style bread with some kind of chèvre mixture, then a big slice of goat cheese right on top with a lovely little salad and some Stella. 

and of course chocolate cake for desert.

We spent a long time at lunch so by the time we finished, we had to go back to the flat so that Taïs could pack for her move the next day.

We sight-saw a bit more on the way home, seeing the preparations in the streets for the Nuit Blanche (White Night), an annual art festival in Paris during which galleries and museums stay open late into the night and entrance is free. All over the streets people were setting up installations and preparing for the evening to come.

We stopped by the Pompidou as well, just to check it out. It's a really awesome building. If you don't know about it, check out the wikipedia page here. 

(More photos to come later.)

I had to shower as well. Taïs directed me upstairs to her mother's room, where I was confonted with a bath tub which had a tap and a head on a hose. With no curtain and a carpet on the floor, I knew I couldn't stand up. Taïs and her mother were just down the stairs and I'm sure they heard me bumping and sliding around, trying to wash my hair in the claw-footed container. By the time I finished it was about time to go to Taïs' show; she was playing a few songs at the restaurant which had employed her for the past month or two.

I met her friends, all very nice Parisians. They were very friendly to me, asking me about myself and speaking English with each other so that I could follow their conversation. Taïs' mother's boyfriend works for a publishing company and brought this young Australian woman who had recently sailed around the world, apparently the youngest person to do so without stopping. 

Parisians!

After the show Taïs and I went to a squat up the street with her friends. There was some kind of house party there. Having heard about squats in Paris I was intrigued and quite surprised by how nice it was! I could tell it had been clean before the party started, with tall ceilings and freshly painted walls. There was a band which was not very good, but I always enjoy live music. 

When we left the party we wandered the streets in a large group. there were people everywhere. We had planned on going to see the Monet exhibit, but were foiled again by long lines and so we contented ourselves with galleries and installations that we happened upon. Taïs, her friend Lèa and I split from the group and went to Belle ville, Lèa's neighborhood. It was very nice, more culturally diverse than those I'd seen thus far, with even more people on the street and in cafès  and galleries everywhere.