Paris: Notre Dame

Back to Paris again, and the 19^th of February:

After leaving the Louvre, I started making my way east toward the Notre Dame de Paris. But, I made one additional stop on the way: the Pont des Arts. Here I admired the thousands of ‘love locks’ affixed to the bridge for quite some time. If only Nic had been with me. Alas, since he wasn’t, after about twenty minutes of ruminating on mushy things, I continued on my way to Notre Dame.

Some of the 'love locks' on the Pont des Arts.

After carrying my backpack all day, I'm the new Hunchback!

The bells, the bells!

'You who seek help: Enter'

 Now, I have to say that—for me—there’s not too much to say about the famous cathedral. It’s a beautiful building, don’t get me wrong, but I was not able to see what constitutes its most noted area: namely, the bell towers. (They offered tours of it—but the line was far too long, and I was starving!) 

Instead I stuck to the interior, which featured beautiful stained glass windows!

After my abbreviated trip to Notre Dame—don't judge, I told you I was starving!—I crossed the road toward Aux Tours de Notre Dame, an indoor and outdoor café, where I picked up one of the most amazing crepes I’ve ever had! Seriously, the woman made the crepe in front of me, and then added (at my request) Nutella and a banana. Tres magnifique!

(NB: This is not my photo!)

Stay tuuned, 'cause there's still more to come!

Paris: The Louvre

The last entry devoted to my time in Paris ended with my stroll through the statue-filled Jardin des Tuileries. As I pointed out, at the eastern end of the garden stands there stands another arch—the Arc de Triomphedu Carrousel—which marks the entrance to the world-famous Musée du Louvre. That was my next stop on 19 February.

NB: This is still part of the terrible, awful, no-good, very-bad hair day!

Now, my friend RC recommended that I skip the Louvre in favor of the Musée d’Orsay. In the end, I wound up not doing this for two reasons:

First, as I noted in the other post, the line for the Musée d’Orsay was ridiculous, and while there are certainly some paintings there that I would have loved to see—e.g., ‘Whistler’s Mother’—I just wasn’t willing to spend such a considerable chunk of my vacation time standing in line. 

Second, I cannot fully escape the cultural inculcation I’ve received over my lifetime, meaning that I wasn’t going to pass-up the opportunity to see one of the world’s most renowned museums and the art it holds. 

Sorry RC—this was just one of those times where I had to pass on your much-appreciated and highly-regarded advice!

Whereas the line at the Musée d’Orsay was enormous and unmoving, the one at the Louvre was, shockingly, almost nonexistent. It only took about five minutes for me to move from the back of the line, through the security checkpoint (under I.M. Pei’s spectacular glass Pyramide du Louvre), and down to the ticket-lobby. 

After about another five minutes (of waiting for a ticket machine), I had my entry pass.

Now, before I go too much further, I have to say one thing: those websites that list the Louvre as one of the biggest museums in the world…Are. Not. Lying! We’re talking four huge, sprawling levels arranged in the shape of something like the letter ‘A’ laying on its side.

Map--notice the 'No Photography' and other icons in the lower-right.

 I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I got lost—and not just ‘Oh, I’m in room 2.61 instead of 2.62’ lost. No, I’m talking about lost as in ‘I’m on a completely different floor and on the opposite side of the building than I thought.’ 

But I wouldn’t trade a moment of that being lost—everywhere I turned was something else incredible. And there was so much that I didn’t see, simply because I was beyond overwhelmed and because I could never find it (e.g., Michelangelo's Captive).

But let’s talk about what I did see…

Standing on 0 (the ground floor), beneath the sparkling pyramid, I had the choice of three directions to start from: Richelieu, Sully, or Denon. I opted for Sully, simply because it was the direction I was facing at the moment, but from there I wound up moving over to Denon because I started seeing signage that the Mona Lisa was in that direction. (After all, if for some reason I wound up not seeing anything else the Louvre had to offer, I had to ensure that I at least saw that famous work!)

As I made my way toward Leonardo’s enigmatic painting, I came upon a massive marble staircase (the Daru staircase)…and there, at the top of said-staircase, was the Winged Victory of Samothrace! 

NB: This is not my photo, but perfectly shows the perspective I was describing above!

This sculpture, which Julian Bell cites as having been sculpted circa 190 BC, is one of those artistic works that I’ve wanted to see since I was a child—no doubt owing to some Carmen Sandiego-related incarnation I'm sure. 

And then, to come across it so unexpectedly, towering over me in such an epic manner… My goodness, it was a breathtaking experience! 

Equally amazing was the fact that one can just reach out and touch it! (I’m sure the Louvre—and future generations—would prefer that you didn’t, of course).

Now, as a quick aside, you may think to yourself after seeing my photos, ‘Why didn’t he take more pictures? He was at the friggin’ Louvre!’ 

Well, the answer is that there were many areas where the taking of photos was prohibited. This did not, of course, stop anyone (including moi)—but I really did want to try to respect the rules, and so I at least limited my picture taking.

Moving on…

From Victory, I moved into the wing devoted to paintings. I knew I was getting closer to the Mona Lisa, and so I walked a little faster…

And then, suddenly, there she was, in the center of a partial wall, erected in the middle of rooms 1.6 and 1.7!

The 'real' Mona Lisa--behind bullet-proof Plexiglass!

I kind of felt sorry for all of the other artwork in the room, because it might as well have been invisible. 

At any rate, DaVinci’s masterpiece is safely secured behind a thick sheet of bullet-proof, light-disrupting Plexiglas-looking material (meaning that you can finally take photos of it!) and, as other observers have noted, is much smaller than you would think.

After snapping a couple of pictures, I just stood there for about 10 minutes…just looking at it, and trying to absorb every moment. 

Of course, I found the experience slightly problematic thanks to a reading I’d just done for my ‘Realism, Fantasy & Utopia’ class en route to Paris. The essay, John Berger’s ‘Ways of Seeing’—which was based on the work of Walter Benjamin—said two things that really FUBAR’ed my ability to just embrace what I was seeing: 

1.) ‘When the camera reproduces a painting, it destroys the uniqueness of its image. As a result its meaning changes. Or, more exactly, its meaning multiplies and fragments into many meanings’ (12). In essence, what Berger means by this is that—through the process of reproduction—in today’s culture when one observes the ‘original,’ rather than focusing on the meanings that they could decode in that moment, they are instead reminded of the moment—and its attendant implications and meanings—when they first saw a reproduction of the image (which likely happened before seeing the ‘original,’ just as I saw countless reproductions of the Mona Lisa before finally seeing the ‘real’ thing last week).

2.) Furthermore, rather than simply seeing the art for whatever it is, the act of reproducing artwork (sub)consciously forces you into thinking of it in terms of a binary (i.e., this is the original, not the reproduction). As a result, the concept of rarity is affixed to the original, which in turn drives up the market value of the piece. ‘But because it is nevertheless “a work of art”—and art is thought to be greater than commerce—its market price is said to be a reflection of its spiritual value. Yet the spiritual value of an object…can only be explained in terms of magic or religion. And since in modern society neither of these is a living force, the art object…is enveloped in an atmosphere of entirely bogus religiosity’ (14).

MEANING IT’S ALL BULLOCKS AND WHY DID I PAY €10 TO GET IN HERE TO SEE SOMETHING WHOSE MEANING IS FALSELY AUTHENTIC AND WHOSE MEANING I CANNOT TRULY COMPREHEND BECAUSE SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE I SAW A REPRODUCTION FIRST?!

Yes, this messed me up.

But, at least I can say I saw the ‘real’ thing—and here’s another reproduction of it that I made to prove as much:

Why, oh why, didn't I hop into the bathroom and fix my hair? For goodness' sake! BAD QUEER!

I had to do a bit of color-enhancement owing to the Plexiglass, but I did take this image.

From the Mona Lisa we move to another object d’art that I’d wanted to see for as long as I can remember: the Venus de Milo!

Perhaps it was just the remnants of my earlier pontification on art that was influencing me—or maybe, by the point I reached this icon of the Roman Love Goddess, I had just reached the point where I had been exposed to too much beauty in one sitting—but, despite loving my time in front of the sculpture, I wasn’t as moved as I’d expected to be.

And now I've got a face like a moon... *SMDH*

Still, it really was amazing to finally see the Venus de Milo!

Now, I’ve touched on the ‘big three’ that I—like so many other tourists—wanted to see while I was at the Louvre. But, by no means does that mean that this was all I looked at, or all that I enjoyed. In particular, I was moved by the Renaissance-era paintings in the room flanking the Mona Lisa—like, really moved. As in: I got a little misty-eyed. 

I think the two paintings which I was most moved by in this area were Reni’s ‘David vainqueur de Goliath’ (c.1604) and Campi’s ‘Les Mysteres de la Passion du Christ’ (c.1569). And with both of these amazing paintings, it’s the usage of colors that really got to me.

Regarding the former, David’s skin-tone was this amazing, almost translucent bluish-white. (And, yes, I acknowledge that as a person from Jerusalem he should not have been white, but it’s not like I can go back in time and ‘fix’ Reni’s color palette or racist tendencies—work with me here!) The severed head is a bit unnecessary—though Biblically accurate—but that's counteracted to an extent by the amazingly textured fur sash that David is wearing! Ugh, I wish I had a photo that did more justice to this beautiful piece!

Concerning Campi’s painting, for me it’s all about the ‘window’ into Heaven seen in the upper-right. Again, the photo does this masterpiece zero justice—the vivid, almost dazzling gold used therein is beyond description. Likewise the various shades of pink interspersed throughout are jaw-dropping!

There’s so much more to say about my experience at the Louvre—almost too much, and so I won’t risk cheapening the adventure by failing to eloquently express it all. 

What I will say by way of conclusion, however, is that the time I spent there was one of two side-trips (the other being Montmartre) that absolutely made the entire Paris trip into the amazing experience that it was—I will never forget my time spent within this grand ol’ palace!

Paris: Early Morning Stroll

School interfered with my ability to update yesterday and earlier today but, finally, I’m back—accompanied by a bit of Edith Piaf in an effort to drown out the thumpa-thumpa coming from upstairs (a different flatmate this time).

At any rate, travel back with me now to the morning of 19 February 2012:

I knew I had a lot of ground I wanted to cover on Sunday, so I started early. My first stop: the famous Arc de Triomphe, which stands proudly just to the side of the Charles de Gaulle-Étoile metro stop, and straddles the Place Charles de Gaulle.

Now, a word of warning before you look at the pictures below: I really did try to do something with my hair that day. In fact, when I left Giovanni’s Room (my hostel), it looked quite nice. But le vent had other ideas—meaning that every single picture of me taken on the 19th is a hot mess. Hot. Mess. That being said, here are the photos:

 Getting back to the world-famous piece of architecture, its purpose is to memorialize those French citizens who lost their lives during the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars, and buried beneath the arch is France’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

(On an unrelated note—and I don’t know if this is actually true or not—according to the Wikipedia store, the ‘eternal flame’ atop the Unknown Soldier’s resting place was the inspiration for the flame that now burns near President John F. Kennedy’s grave. Also, just to demonstrate how big it actually is, in 1919 a biplane actually flew through the memorial arch. You can find the video here.)

From the Arc de Triomphe, I made my way south-east along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. According to the owner of Giovanni’s Room, this stretch of street—which runs between the Arc de Triomphe and the Obelisk of Luxor—is famous for its expensive shops and celebrity clientele. I have to say, I don’t know if that’s true or not (not that I really have any reason to doubt him) simply because everything was still closed as I was walking by. Oh, other than La McDonald’s.

However, I didn’t make it all the way down Champs-Élysées because, at its crossing with an avenue named after Winston Churchill (at that point), I was distracted by a trio of beautifully designed buildings: Le Grande Palais, Petit Palais, and L'Hôtel national des Invalides. I never made it into either of the first two, simply because opening hours and time did not allow. As for L'Hôtel national des Invalides, I’ll discuss that in a subsequent posting.

You can see the edges of Le Grande and Petit Palais on the left and right respectively, with L'Hotel national des Invalides in the distance.

Petit Palais--unfortunately, I accidentally deleted my photo of Le Grande Palais.

The dome atop L'Hotel national des Invalides.

For now, let’s just focus on the bridge that spans the Seine between these three gorgeous buildings: Pont Alexandre III. As the pictures below demonstrate, it’s quite stunning. It is also from this vantage point that I first glimpsed the Eiffel Tower during daylight hours.

My first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower during daylight hours.

The Eiffel Tower, as seen from Pont Alexandre III.

 

From the Pont Alexandre III, I continued heading east along the northern bank of the Seine. It wasn’t long until I came upon the Placede la Concorde (where stands the earlier-mentioned obelisk devoted to Pharaoh Ramses II), and then—a bit further down—the Jardin des Tuileries.

From a historical perspective, perhaps the most interesting thing about the Place de la Concorde is its bloodied link with the French Revolution. It was within the area of this square that 'Madame Guillotine' separated the likes of King Louis XVI, MarieAntoinette, and Maximilien Robespierre from their respective heads. In fact, it has been estimated that over 1,300 people were executed here over the course of a single month during the ‘Reign of Terror.’ Quite a change from the somewhat whimsical air that the Ferris Wheel gives to the square today.

Place de la Concorde

As for the Jardin des Tuileries, its origins date back to the mid-16^th Century, at which point it served as the (private) garden for Tuileries Palace and the Dowager Queen. In later years, it switched back-and-forth between the monarchy and the public courtesy of various revolutions. Today, the palace after which the gardens take their name is gone (as is the monarchy), and its grounds are open to the public.

As one approaches the Louvre, which stands elevated along the eastern end of the space, (s)he comes to a round pool surrounded by beautiful sculptures. To the west the observer can just make out the Place de la Concorde, and to the southwest is the Musee D’Orsay (which, quite sadly, I did not make it to because the line to get in was even longer than the one at the Louvre!).

Facing east, toward the Louvre.

And so, that brings us to the close of this entry. There was still plenty more to see that Sunday, but what remains really does deserve separate entries…

 

Until next time!