It is a bit odd to put these two together, but we did on Wednesday. First, a visit to the Musee de la Chasse et La Nature, and then down to the Hotel de Ville and an exhibition of etchings, photographs, broadsides, and handwritten descriptions of the Paris Commune of 1871.
La Musee de la Chasse
The Musee de la Chasse inhabits an old hotel particuliere in the Marais. It is beautifully and richly restored, and full of the most amazing and amusing stuff. It was described (not by us) as a, "stuffed cornucopia of taxidermy, fine art and antique firearms. Here, the eternal struggle of man versus beast is displayed in a manner so sophisticated and eclectic even die-hard PETA members might cop to admiration." I'm not sure about the PETA members, but we thought it was terrific, even as we acknowledged a frisson of uneasiness at the obvious upper-classness of it all.
Each room had a name such as the "wild boar room" or the "bird room" or even the "unicorn room." In each was a collection of objects that in some way represented that theme...and hunting. Some objects were old, some new, and always something unexpected. Someone has a sense of humor or taste for the absurd: a whole display on rabbits that included a video, morphological info, and an old toy rabbit. The raptor room was small, but the ceiling was covered with owl heads and feathers in a vaguely arts and crafts pattern. Imagine a whole area on bird whistles, each identified as the bird they imitate and made of glass or wood. The glass ones looked like laboratory experiments gone wild.
I even enjoyed the gun rooms. Rows and rows of antique hunting rifles. Crossbows from the middle ages and identified with a moving cartoon of the name of the weapon that morphed into a drawing of a shooting crossbow.
And, of course, the stuffed animals in every room. Gorillas, leopards, a polar bear, and on and on. Even a fox nestled in one of the gorgeous old needlepoint chairs.
La Commune
Of a vastly different note, is the display at the Hotel de Ville on this the 140th anniversary of the Paris Commune. I admit I only knew of the Commune as the cause for which all those young men died in Les Miz. Turns out it's a particularly scandalous part of French history and to this day a cause celebre for many Frenchmen and any Socialist or Leftist.
In 1870 Napoleon III led France into a disastrous war with Germany that ended with Paris in ruins, a humiliating defeat, and the end of Napoleon III. In the wake of this misery, a group of Paris intellectuals led working class Parisians in a revolt that set up a socialist government in opposition to the "republication" government that had decamped to Versailles. It lasted about two months. The Versailles troops retook Paris from the Communards at the barricades. The Versailles government then proceeded to murder somewhere between 10,000 and 50,000 Parisians. Most of the executions were peremptory, and without trial. Many were deported to New Caledonia. It was a vastly naive and romantic revolt with an appalling end.
Manet painted a picture of just one of the dead Communards. It's at the Orsay.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
La Tour Eiffel
The Eiffel Tower is big, imposing, very well attended, and iconic. We visited it Sunday morning, along with several thousand others, and then again last night from the safer distance of Chaillot where we were accompanied by only several hundred others. Built as a temporary structure for the International Exhibition of 1889, it has survived very well.
We arrived at Chaillot just in time to see the twinkling lights that flash all over the tower for five minutes every hour. It's as if thousands of tourists arranged all over the tower took flash pictures continually for five minutes. After the flashes, the tower is lighted by the traditional uplights that I prefer. Somehow the Eiffel Tower appreciates the dignity of the traditional lights.
Whether you visit the Eiffel Tower itself or view it from across the Seine at Chaillot, you must fend off the hawkers attempting to sell you something. The hawkers carry strings of model towers in different colors and sizes. Some towers light up. You can also buy wind-up dogs and faux designer handbags. It must be a very difficult way to earn a living.
Whether you visit the Eiffel Tower itself or view it from across the Seine at Chaillot, you must fend off the hawkers attempting to sell you something. The hawkers carry strings of model towers in different colors and sizes. Some towers light up. You can also buy wind-up dogs and faux designer handbags. It must be a very difficult way to earn a living.
Monday, May 16, 2011
No, I mean Manet!
OK, I got a bit confused when talking about Monet and Manet. I do know the difference, I do. The Orsay is having a major Manet retrospective with paintings and drawings brought in from all over. So many works make it fascinating to follow the growth of the artist through different periods and evolving mind sets. And all the most famous pictures are here: Olympia, Le Dejeuner sur L'herbe, the Fifer. Manet portraits trouble you in different ways. Sometimes the model challenges you with her gaze while another seems anchored in a very private world. I like them.
The Orsay is only partially open for visitors; one floor is under renovation as a new home for the Impressionist and post-Impressionist paintings and sculptures. For now, they're in what I hope are temporary quarters on the ground floor. As a consequence, the paintings plus a few sculptures are assembled like patrons in a Parisien cafe: in very close proximity. Seeing so many wonderful different paintings affected me such that I lay awake last night while their colors and images continued to occupy my brain.
I still love Cezanne, but I'm fascinated by the stylized work of the Nabis. (Picture to come...I hope.)
The Orsay is only partially open for visitors; one floor is under renovation as a new home for the Impressionist and post-Impressionist paintings and sculptures. For now, they're in what I hope are temporary quarters on the ground floor. As a consequence, the paintings plus a few sculptures are assembled like patrons in a Parisien cafe: in very close proximity. Seeing so many wonderful different paintings affected me such that I lay awake last night while their colors and images continued to occupy my brain.
I still love Cezanne, but I'm fascinated by the stylized work of the Nabis. (Picture to come...I hope.)
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Versailles
We visited Versailles on Thursday.
I started the day off poorly by putting the four of us on the wrong RER train to Versailles. Oh, dear. No wonder we could actually find seats to sit in. Some frizze after we detrained at Versailles Chantier, but it only meant a somewhat longer walk to the chateau. Phew!
Versailles the chateau is very, very large. It appears as several buildings all joined together with inner courtyards and outer courtyards, long ells going this way and that way. I think it must have been built somewhat piecemeal? We entered very easily (again, phew!), picked up our audio guides and more or less followed the mandated route to and (nearly) through the state apartments. Every square centimeter of the state apts is gilded, painted, carved or all three. It is wretched excess in high glee. As we walked through the corridors the crowd grew and grew until it didn't so much walk as ooze through doorways. I'm afraid D and I fled.
We fled to the gardens. The gardens next to the chateau are parterre meant to be viewed from above. From ground level they're a bit boring. We hastened down toward the fountains and explored the tree gardens that flank them on both sides. They're quite wonderful: rather like large mazes with trees laid out in large geometric groups to create allees and spaces for fountains. I don't know what these gardens are called, but they occupy an enormous area. Of course, all of Versailles is vast; it encompasses over 2000 acres.
We rented a boat and rowed to the central portion of the grand canal. Much fun. After lunch, we walked to the Grand Trianon and then the Petit Trianon. These two built when the different Louis and their mistresses/wives needed a rest from the grandeur of the main chateau.
D and I have decided to come back on a Saturday or Sunday when the fountains are playing. We'll rent bikes and explore the outer reaches of Versailles. It's amazing how rapidly the visitor density decreases as you increase the distance from the chateau. XTEP.
I started the day off poorly by putting the four of us on the wrong RER train to Versailles. Oh, dear. No wonder we could actually find seats to sit in. Some frizze after we detrained at Versailles Chantier, but it only meant a somewhat longer walk to the chateau. Phew!
Versailles the chateau is very, very large. It appears as several buildings all joined together with inner courtyards and outer courtyards, long ells going this way and that way. I think it must have been built somewhat piecemeal? We entered very easily (again, phew!), picked up our audio guides and more or less followed the mandated route to and (nearly) through the state apartments. Every square centimeter of the state apts is gilded, painted, carved or all three. It is wretched excess in high glee. As we walked through the corridors the crowd grew and grew until it didn't so much walk as ooze through doorways. I'm afraid D and I fled.
We fled to the gardens. The gardens next to the chateau are parterre meant to be viewed from above. From ground level they're a bit boring. We hastened down toward the fountains and explored the tree gardens that flank them on both sides. They're quite wonderful: rather like large mazes with trees laid out in large geometric groups to create allees and spaces for fountains. I don't know what these gardens are called, but they occupy an enormous area. Of course, all of Versailles is vast; it encompasses over 2000 acres.
We rented a boat and rowed to the central portion of the grand canal. Much fun. After lunch, we walked to the Grand Trianon and then the Petit Trianon. These two built when the different Louis and their mistresses/wives needed a rest from the grandeur of the main chateau.
D and I have decided to come back on a Saturday or Sunday when the fountains are playing. We'll rent bikes and explore the outer reaches of Versailles. It's amazing how rapidly the visitor density decreases as you increase the distance from the chateau. XTEP.
A morning at the Louvre
A full day at the Louvre takes a whole lot more stamina than I possess. We settled for a lovely long morning in the Egyptian galleries and the ancient land of the pharaohs. The Louvre is, after all, all about glorious wretched excess. Why settle for a sarcophagus or two when literally dozens are available? Why not whole cases of ancient musical instruments, to include lutes, mandolins, and clappers with carved ivory hands? Or a pile of ancient silver bowls found at an Egyptian dig with a provenance no one understands?
The Louvre opens at 9am every morning except Tuesdays to an already lined-up host of tourists both French and otherwise. There are other entrances with shorter lines, but you'll wait at all of them. The hold-up is actually the security check--you can buy your tickets pretty rapidly at the kiosks under the pyramid.
The galleries fill up as the day progresses. We've found since that entering the museum late afternoonish works best as the galleries are less full, and you no longer have to view objects around and through other visitors. My only complaint is that the drawings and prints rooms are currently closed. Drat!
The Louvre opens at 9am every morning except Tuesdays to an already lined-up host of tourists both French and otherwise. There are other entrances with shorter lines, but you'll wait at all of them. The hold-up is actually the security check--you can buy your tickets pretty rapidly at the kiosks under the pyramid.
The galleries fill up as the day progresses. We've found since that entering the museum late afternoonish works best as the galleries are less full, and you no longer have to view objects around and through other visitors. My only complaint is that the drawings and prints rooms are currently closed. Drat!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Monet, Monet et Monet
We have followed the maitre to Giverny and genuflected at the Orangerie. On Sunday we worship at the Orsay having paid extra for the special Monet exhibit. How much Monet is too much Monet?
Giverny is beautiful. Fed by the Eure River, the water gardens are extensive and lush. The willows trail their leaves in the water; the lilies hint at their eventual flowering (August). There are rhododendrons and azaleas in many colors. Wisteria blossoms in purple and white drape the Japanese wooden bridge. Tourists wrapped in cameras and sporting baseball caps drift reverently through the paths; flocks of students wearing iPods clump near exits where they are moved along by over-stressed teachers.
The scented roses and clematis are blooming in the bedding areas. The tulips are faded, but the peonies are in full bud. Come back in a week!
Part 2: Oops!
More to come, but the special show at the Louvre is of Manet, not Monet. We have tickets for tomorrow.
The scented roses and clematis are blooming in the bedding areas. The tulips are faded, but the peonies are in full bud. Come back in a week!Part 2: Oops!
More to come, but the special show at the Louvre is of Manet, not Monet. We have tickets for tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I want to live in Butte-aux-Cailles
It's true. If I were to move to Paris, I'd find a tiny house in Butte-aux-Cailles and live there happily ever after. I'd order crepes from Des Crepes et des Cailles and spend too much time affecting bohemian at Le Temps des Cerises. I'd complain about the paucity of Metro stops and the gentrification happening around me. Ah well, dream on.
Butte-aux-Cailles (named for Pierre Caille who owned a vineyard here in the 16th century) is a village-like area in southern Paris. No doubt, Butte-aux-Cailles is charming: narrow cobbled streets lined with single-family houses, some with tiny gardens and scented roses in glorious May bloom. Some of the artistic and working class aura remains; Butte-aux-Cailles was originally home to workers in the small factories in the area. The picturesque quality is ameliorated by the many nondescript apartment buildings that share the village with the delightful cottages. One can't help but wonder what the village looked like perhaps 75 years ago, but then, today all that might look just too much like a Disney set.
And speaking of movies, we aren't the only ones entranced by Butte-aux-Cailles. A full complement of movie gear and people were set up at the base of rue de la Butte aux Cailles. No idea what movie they were shooting or who was in it, but it was a major production. Maybe Catherine Deneuve???
Butte-aux-Cailles (named for Pierre Caille who owned a vineyard here in the 16th century) is a village-like area in southern Paris. No doubt, Butte-aux-Cailles is charming: narrow cobbled streets lined with single-family houses, some with tiny gardens and scented roses in glorious May bloom. Some of the artistic and working class aura remains; Butte-aux-Cailles was originally home to workers in the small factories in the area. The picturesque quality is ameliorated by the many nondescript apartment buildings that share the village with the delightful cottages. One can't help but wonder what the village looked like perhaps 75 years ago, but then, today all that might look just too much like a Disney set.
And speaking of movies, we aren't the only ones entranced by Butte-aux-Cailles. A full complement of movie gear and people were set up at the base of rue de la Butte aux Cailles. No idea what movie they were shooting or who was in it, but it was a major production. Maybe Catherine Deneuve???
Monday, May 2, 2011
I wonder who's kissing Oscar now?
Everyone (almost) who visits Paris journeys to Pere Lachaise cemetery. So did we on Sunday.
Pere Lachaise occupies several acres of hilly real estate in the 20th. It's not the expected (by me, anyway) cemetery of green grass and headstones. Every square centimeter of earth is occupied with one tomb side-to-side or toe-to-toe with the next. Its population density equals the living Paris that surrounds it. It was, and is, fashionable for the bourgousie of Paris to inter their dead in Pere Lachaise. The tombs are not large and not beautiful, but they are massive, stolid, and definitely built to last.
In amongst the mansions of the rich are the tombs of the artists, composers, writers that make Pere Lachaise a principle tourist site. Evidently enticing the families of famous artists to inter their loved ones in Pere Lachaise was a marketing ploy adopted by the cemetery's originators. Or, reinterring same, as in the case of Moliere or the infamous Marat of French Revolution fame. Chopin, Bizet, Proust, and Victor Hugo rest here. Even Baron Haussmann, the architect of the great transformation of Paris in the 19th century, is entombed at Pere Lachaise.
There are no signs to help you locate individual tombs, only a vague map given out by the Mairie of Paris. Jim Morrison, for example, is not easy to find, although a clump of young tourists helps pinpoint the site. You have to hop around several tombs to get a clear view. His tomb is pretty nondescript with a few flowers, both artificial and real, scattered over the top. The visitors seem awfully young. I see no evidence of the adoring crowds (or supposed orgies) that once came or took place here. I suppose to today's young Morrison is just a famous guy who died a long time ago. Piaf's grave is similarly nondescript, but she commands a larger crowd and more flowers. Of course, she's also easier to find.
I really wanted to see Oscar Wilde's tomb. It's at the top of the cemetery, near the Gambetta gate. Wilde died in 1900 in a seedy Paris hotel and was originally interred in the Bagneux cemetery--essentially a pauper's grave. Two years later a friend had him dug up and reburied at Pere Lachaise. The tomb is a rectangular plinth with a strange (art deco? Egyptian? Mayan?) male angel flying along its side. (You can look up the stories about what supposedly happened to this male angel on moonless nights. I'm not going to tell you.) But strangest of all are the thousands of red kisses that cover the tomb--at least up as far as can reasonably be reached. Why? No one seems to know. It seems someone started the tradition and others just followed on. Wilde's grandson, who pays for the upkeep of the tomb, hates it, especially as the oil from the lipstick penetrates the stone and can't be removed.
I wonder what Wilde would think of all those kisses.
Pere Lachaise occupies several acres of hilly real estate in the 20th. It's not the expected (by me, anyway) cemetery of green grass and headstones. Every square centimeter of earth is occupied with one tomb side-to-side or toe-to-toe with the next. Its population density equals the living Paris that surrounds it. It was, and is, fashionable for the bourgousie of Paris to inter their dead in Pere Lachaise. The tombs are not large and not beautiful, but they are massive, stolid, and definitely built to last.
In amongst the mansions of the rich are the tombs of the artists, composers, writers that make Pere Lachaise a principle tourist site. Evidently enticing the families of famous artists to inter their loved ones in Pere Lachaise was a marketing ploy adopted by the cemetery's originators. Or, reinterring same, as in the case of Moliere or the infamous Marat of French Revolution fame. Chopin, Bizet, Proust, and Victor Hugo rest here. Even Baron Haussmann, the architect of the great transformation of Paris in the 19th century, is entombed at Pere Lachaise.
There are no signs to help you locate individual tombs, only a vague map given out by the Mairie of Paris. Jim Morrison, for example, is not easy to find, although a clump of young tourists helps pinpoint the site. You have to hop around several tombs to get a clear view. His tomb is pretty nondescript with a few flowers, both artificial and real, scattered over the top. The visitors seem awfully young. I see no evidence of the adoring crowds (or supposed orgies) that once came or took place here. I suppose to today's young Morrison is just a famous guy who died a long time ago. Piaf's grave is similarly nondescript, but she commands a larger crowd and more flowers. Of course, she's also easier to find.
I really wanted to see Oscar Wilde's tomb. It's at the top of the cemetery, near the Gambetta gate. Wilde died in 1900 in a seedy Paris hotel and was originally interred in the Bagneux cemetery--essentially a pauper's grave. Two years later a friend had him dug up and reburied at Pere Lachaise. The tomb is a rectangular plinth with a strange (art deco? Egyptian? Mayan?) male angel flying along its side. (You can look up the stories about what supposedly happened to this male angel on moonless nights. I'm not going to tell you.) But strangest of all are the thousands of red kisses that cover the tomb--at least up as far as can reasonably be reached. Why? No one seems to know. It seems someone started the tradition and others just followed on. Wilde's grandson, who pays for the upkeep of the tomb, hates it, especially as the oil from the lipstick penetrates the stone and can't be removed.
I wonder what Wilde would think of all those kisses.
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