Adventurous Eater

I've always been a really picky eater. In Paris though, I'm trying everything. I tried escargot, foie gras, beef bourguignon, crème brûlée, a mysterious chicken tarragon dish, goat cheese, quiche, gelato, and every kind of pastry and baked good Paris could offer. I even ate sandwiches with mustard and salads with dressing. That doesn't normally happen. Hopefully my food adventures will continue when I get back into the states.

A Late Letter To a Future Student

I've only traveled out of the country once before.  It was fantastic and I have a lot of great memories from that trip, but it was with my family and the experience of traveling alone and with peers is completely different.  I've always been really attached to my family (not that that is a bad thing), but I severely lack independence.  Traveling and studying abroad was my solution to that.  Not only did I gain independence, but I know that it may be a very long time before I can travel again, and this seemed to be the way I could get the most out of it-academically, financially, personally.
The things I learned and the topics we discussed were not what I expected.  For some reason, I thought we would spend all day in art museums (which would be fine with me, although I know that's not ideal for everyone else).  We were very active and spend time on artists, movements, media, and social customs and periods that I was unfamiliar with.  By the end of the trip I felt well versed in not only the history of my media, but many (and capable of talking about them).
The largest accomplishment and the biggest challenge I faced was the culture and the language.  Before leaving, I spoke no French and was a very picky eater.  I made an effort to speak as much French as possible (no matter how horrible it was) and try as many new things as I could.  Often times, this made me frustrated, flustered, or grossed out, but I left restaurants (and France) with a sense of pride knowing that I tried something new and trying is appreciated, whether the experience was successful or not. 
Without the school and my peers, my experience would have been very different.  Some of my favorite things, like the Quai Branly, would not have made it to my agenda if I had been traveling alone.  We got opportunities, like the museum pass and the Maison de Verre which would have unavailable to be otherwise for exclusivity or financial reasons.  Because this was a course, it was stressed to keep up a sketchbook.  This is uncommon for me, but it was very good practice.  I have personal notes and drawings that I value more than any picture or souvenir. 
On the other hand, I spend several days in Paris by myself after the trip was over and that is highly recommended.  I was able to digest all of the information we were given, relax, adjust to my own schedule, and visit/revisit things we didn't have time for.  This was a test for my navigation and speaking skills (I think I did pretty well) and a low key end to the trip.

Grand Palais, Opéra Garnier, and Ladurée

I had the classiest day ever (at least I tried to). We looked at art at the Grand Palais, Keri and I enjoyed Ladurée, then the two of us headed to see Julius Caesar at the Opéra Garnier.

Oh hey, Michael Cera....

At the Grand Palais, Michael Cera showed up. We looked at a couple pieces together, which was memorable, but It's difficult to look at art normally next to someone famous. It was distracting and I felt super creepy. Because he was there, I was consciously not interacting with the pieces the same way. Eventually, I skipped a couple rooms so I wouldn't be in the same room as Michael Cera and could try to look at the work normally. Because he was there, I will always associate Dynamo and the Grand Palais with him, not the art inside.

After the exhibit, Keri and I headed to Ladurée, which I have been wanting to go to the entire time I've been in Paris. I had champagne and macaroons and accidentally ordered a lemon tart. We took pictures and couldn't understand our waiter, so we probably weren't as classy as the rest of the champagne bar patrons.

After Ladurée, we headed to the Opera! We had really nice seats in a box that we shared with just a few other people (maybe 13 total). The box had locked doors which had to be unlocked for the people inside-it felt very exclusive. The opera itself was very different than the others I've seen. Instead of being in a classical setting, it was in the warehouse of a museum and the ancient characters interacted with the modern set. There were modern characters too, the museum workers changed the set and brought out props. Most of the time, they didn't interact with the ancient characters but if they did, they were minor, in groups, and always silent. Because the set didn't change much, the scenes and identities of the characters were dependent of the museum artifacts they were near. It was a huge change from the operas I've seen, but once I got used to it, it was very enjoyable.
Again, I wasn't quite as classy as I was hoping to be. Throughout the show I was figiting more than a ten-year-old, my stockings ripped, and I got some Ladurée tart in my hair. It's impossible for me classy in Paris.  If I leave out a few details, it sounds great.

Post-Group Paris

During the three days I've been alone in Paris, almost everything I did was revisiting what I didn't feel I had enough time with on the trip. On Sunday, Tanya and I went to the museum of photography and back to the Pompidou (I am so glad I did because there was so much I missed), and Tara met us at the Louvre.

Monday I was completely by myself. I  took the day to revisit some spots that I wanted to draw but didn't have the time with the group, like the Eiffel Tower and Moulin Rouge. I went back to Shakespeare and Company (may have gotten lost getting there), got a café creme at Café des Deux Moulins, and finished the rest of my gift shopping. On my journey back, I encountered a mob of people taking pictures of Brad Pitt, a prematurely closed metro line, at least a dozen police cars outside of the Grand Palais, and a stranger taking a picture of me. I don't know what was happening, but I found an open metro through expert wandering skills, only to be greeted by a man standing right outside of Crimée with no pants. It was a strange day.

Tuesday was more normal. I spent the day understanding the French-English language barrier at the post office, wandering around near the Opera, and revisiting Orsay for the third time (the guard let me in for free because I study art!). This time I looked at Decorative arts and went back to the Impressionism gallery. I'm glad I went back, because I looked at Odilion Redon's paintings. Prior to this Orsay visit, I didn't know who he was.
After closing Orsay, I had my last Parisian meal at Crêperie Beauboug and did some people and pigeon watching at the Pompidou.

Experiencing Paris by myself was totally different than with the group. I had time to relax, digest the trip and all of the information that went with it. Everything I did was on my own time and I didn't have to cater to anyone else's wants or needs. On the other hand, it was kind of terrifying. I wasn't with anyone who spoke any French and because I was by myself, people treated me differently. I felt lost and targeted a lot (I'm sure one informed the other). Luckily, there were a couple really friendly English speakers to help me out and the Knoff Mapguide did the rest.

Ron Mueck/Cartier

Ron Mueck’s sculptures made me pretty uncomfortable.  His whole exhibit seemed to be about first impressions and closer looks.  The first impression is scale, reality, and detail.  The sculptures are impressive.  A closer look will reveal how off-putting and uncomfortable they are.  Each sculpture has a specific gaze and is intentionally (or intentionally not) interacting with the viewer and the other sculptures.  The gazes and poses of the figures are very open to interpretations and narrative, but I think most people will come to the conclusion that none of the figures are happy.

Malevich Haters

During our visit at the Pompidou, I spent a majority of my time in the Suprematist gallery and meandering from room to room.  I looked at a painting by Malevich and eventually, a promotional invite by Calder.  I wanted to spend some time with Malevich because many of my peers don’t appreciate him visually or conceptually.  This was the first opportunity I had to see a painting of his in person.  I've never had any particular feelings on him, so I was hoping the experience would inspire something for me to bring back to all of the Malevich haters.

Seeing it in person was vastly different than seeing it on a projection.  You get a sense for the flatness, contrast, and less-than-perfect but not overly obvious craft.  The brush strokes are visible, but small and horizontal, cross is crooked, and the white and black shapes are smudged.  After reading some of the Suprematist manifesto, I learned that the white in the paintings represent infinity and simple geometry is a way of painting spirituality and to transcend the natural world.  Malevich believed that objects cluttered art and made expression more difficult.  His paintings were not empty, but “filled with the spirit of non-objective sensation.”  Without these objects and figures, his art loses political and religious ties that art so frequently holds, more so in his square painting, two above.

detail of lower left cross

In our discussion, we talked about the shape of the cross, it’s imperfections, the stark contrast of the black on white background, and the mysterious readings the shape gives off.  Because Malevich wanted to move away from political and religious associations, I feel as though his simple squares were more successful because the cross shape carries a lot of connotations.  This is likely why he moved towards the square, and it is what most people recognize him for.  

Now that I have spent a good chunk of time looking at actual Malevich work, reading his Manifesto, and discussing it, it’s craft, and it’s meaning, I certainly have a new respect for him, although he still may not be my favorite artist, perhaps I can convince the Suprematist haters to ease up on him.

Independence in Paris

I could easily stay here in Paris for another month with the way things are.  I don’t feel particularly homesick, not to say that I don’t miss my friends and family.  Because of the lack of reliable internet and a phone, there’s been no way to communicate steadily, which I did at home daily.  It’s strange to think that my life at home is continuing without me.  Large life events have been happening while I’m having my own.  I can hear about them through the occasional email, but I’m so far away and out of touch, it doesn’t seem real yet.  Even my relationships seem unreal.  When you go from talking to someone several times a day at home to barely emailing them once a week, the relationships get more distant and you get more independent.  It feels similar to when you imagine something so many times you almost think it’s real.  Resuming my life at home will be refreshing and strange.  Being here for so long has been great and unreal, but I feel like I’ve been neglecting my personal life and relationships.  I can’t help but feel selfish and indulgent that I’m experiencing this by myself.

Museum People Watching

Time lapse drawing of people standing in front of me at Monet's Water Lilies

Throughout this trip, I’ve been able to view and appreciate so many amazing pieces of art.  Unfortunately, so have a lot of other people and they do it right in front of my face.  Some museum visitors, especially those on an audio tour, have a tendency to walk right in front you viewing, drawing, or taking a picture of a piece, and stand.  Most of the time it’s not even at the appropriate distance to view the work or it’s details.  It’s a strange in between where you’re not getting the full picture but you’re not seeing any artist marks.  This provides a good opportunity for people watching.

The constant mob in front of the Mona Lisa

Not looking at the piece, but right in front of it

Crowded view of the Hall of Mirrors

Seeing people interact with the work is really interesting.  At Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe, there was a woman who came with an audio tour guide group that was clearly viewing the piece, and sat down on the bench.  Normally, that would be ideal, but there was a swarm of people in front of the work and the piece wasn’t visible.  At one point in time, she started texting and looking at other pieces in the room.  At l'Orangerie, on several occasions, people came in, stood right in front of our group sitting on the benches viewing Monet’s Water Lilies, and whipped out city or museum maps, as if walking into the room for a brief second gives the full experience.  Of course there were many other people actually interacting with the work.  Some people had conversations about it, others just sat quietly and observed.

Gothic Architecture: a brief summary

Architecture never struck me as particularly interesting until I came to France.  All of the buildings are old and beautiful, even someone like me has to appreciate them.  The architecture that stuck me the most was the Gothic churches we looked at.  This was surprising because the images I’ve seen before coming were never able to hold my attention.  The have a totally different experience in person.  The scale and detail are impressive.  Both the interiors and exteriors were great to draw because there was interest from far away and in detail.

We looked at three different Gothic churches from three different time periods: Notre Dame, Church of Saint-Julien-Le Pauvre, and the Church of Saint-Séverin.  These had three very different scales and different places in the Gothic architecture timeline. Church of Saint-Julien-Le Pauvre was the smallest and the oldest.  It was a local, modest church. Notre Dame was the largest and took place in between Saint-Julien-Le Pauvre and Saint-Séverin.  It was massive, and beautiful.  People still attended mass there, but with all of the tourists that come in, it might be overwhelming.  The last, Saint-Séverin, was built post-Notre Dame and was moderate in size.  It wasn’t as intimate as Saint-Julien-Le Pauvre, but didn’t attract the tourism and craziness that Notre Dame did.

While I can’t choose a favorite building of the three, I can choose a favorite feature that they all shared: the stained glass windows.  Not only did they let in light from outside, so they were practical, but they were unique pieces of art.  They have unique history (some were replaced to look old, some were replaced to look modern) and really set the churches apart.

Musée d'Orsay and Musée d'Orsay Revisited

Because the Musée d’Orsay used to be a train station, the museum space old and new, decorative, and practical.  Unlike the Louvre, which was once home to royalty and the Musée Rodin, which Rodin himself lived in, people of all kinds used the Gare d’Orsay.  It was a railroad station until it closed and reopened as the Musée d’Orsay.  The history of the building makes it relevant to art inside and inviting to people outside.

The Orsay contains art from the 1840s to 1914.  The art I was most excited about was the Impressionism and Post-Impressionism.  I was able to see some of the most famous pieces I remember from art history books in person, which was incredible.  I occasionally cried.  I went back to the museum a second time to get a better look, but I still haven’t seen everything.  The museum deserves a full and thorough visit, not a quick run through because it holds some of the most important and interesting Realism, Impressionism, and Post-Impressionism works.

The Louvre & Versailles

For my time at the Louvre, I focused on Chardin’s Le Singe antiquaire-left (1726), and Chimiste dans son Laboratoire-right (1726).  They were in the French Gallery on the second floor away from most of the floor traffic.  The atmosphere was far more relaxed, to the point that there was a man napping by the window.  Very few people traveled there and I saw no tour groups.  This gallery was laid out with specific paths on the floor, arrows included and it was split into two small sections and two large.  Few people strayed from the paths to looks at the art in the center of the smaller sub-galleries.  Chardin’s work was spread throughout the whole gallery.  
To the right of Le Singe, through the doorway in the next gallery, was Chardin’s Chimiste dans son Laboratoar, another academic, but he was human.  Few people stopped to glance at these pieces, fewer to actually look.  I got the impression that some people only looked because they saw me drawing it and were curious what the painting was.  For how interesting some of Chardin’s work is, it got little attention.  This quick walk though could be contributed to the drawn out pathways and arrows on the floor, the location of the galleries, the location of the paintings on the wall, or that people were so exhausted from the rest of the museum, they didn’t have the energy to look at much more.

gallery maps

General pathways of the gallery and a sketch of Le Singe A sketch of Chimiste and Le Singe's frame

The strange leg of the monkey, Le Singe's frame, the painting's locations, and a sketch of the Chemist.

In both of Chardin’s paintings, he depicts academics leisurely (the relaxed atmosphere of the gallery mimics the positions of the figures) enjoying their books facing opposite directions.  The compositions are similar.  They are centered vertically off centered horizontally with the subject facing center.  In Chimiste, the tone is more straightforward and literal, while the artist’s decision to use a monkey in Le Singe takes a bit more interpretation.  Using a monkey to depict a scholar and a painter (opposite of the dead rabbit and still life) seems to be mocking the two professions.  The monkey is similar to some earlier work, like the Flemish artist Teniers the Youner.  Tenier painted very similar scenes of anthropomorphic animals.  Chardin’s choice for a subject might reflect this thought.  Perhaps Chardin’s decision to make the bottles in Chimiste so secondary is a similar idea, as if he does not want us to take this chemist seriously.  The chemist looks relaxed, not hard at work.  The monkey and the chemist are not parodies and Chardin likely does not think highly of scholars and academics, himself included, as there was a monkey painting in the same gallery.

Versailles construction Versailles sketches

The experience of Versilles was overwhelming: in scale, luxury, and tourism.  The gardens were so ridiculous and beautiful, it’s hard to believe they were built for so few people to enjoy.  It wasn’t hard to believe how upset the Palace of Versailles made the rest of France feel and the revolution it helped start.  With those thoughts in mind, it was difficult to actually enjoy them.  The money put into building and to maintain Versailles over all these years amazes me.  If the extravagance of the palace upset the French before, I am curious to know how they feel about it now.  It is a treasure that would be an absolute shame to lose, a main tourist spot, and must provide a lot of jobs.  The cost of maintenance (cleaning, gardening, etc.) and conservation must cost a fortune.  Even the new work (the tree installations and marble or plaster sculptures) must be expensive.  Versailles is still a symbol of unnecessary decadence, not much different than before.  While I would never wish for it to fade and become overgrown, thinking of the money continuously being put into the Palace and garden seems so contrary to what the French wanted in the Revolution.