17 posts tagged “museums”
This is a delightful statue of the poet and fable writer Jean de La Fontaine, to be found in the 16th arrondissement, near the Musee Monet-Marmottan. La Fontaine lived and wrote in the 17th century, but his work is still popular. Like Moliere his family expectations pointed him toward law, but he chose another path, that of the arts.
At La Fontaine's feet is the crow and on the steps the fox, of his fable "The Crow and the Fox," wherein the fox sweet-talks the crow out of the piece of cheese held in her bill. Wily Fox. Vain Crow.
It is a charming statue found in the delightful park found between the Metro stop La Muette and the museum. Notice the stone bench running behind the statue, where you could sit and read, or enjoy a conversation. Very Parisian.
Pearl
The Musée Carnavalet is one of the great neglected museums of Paris. It houses a collection of objects and art that trace the history of Paris through the centuries.
Like many other good things, the Carnavalet is located in the Marais section of Paris. The building itself is made up of two aristocratic hotels, the hôtel Carnavalet and the hôtel Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau. There is a beautiful though small formal garden that one cannot visit without visiting the museum, and even then it is difficult to get out there.
Walking along Rue des Francs Bourgeois, I walked across the south side of the garden and took this picture.
Then I looked more closely: an angel.
The museum can be a little frustrating because certain items are only "open" on certain days. One must know the schedule, or a visitor can miss Proust's cork-lined writing room, say, transported whole from his home and plunked down here. It is a fabulous sight, but only open on certain days of the week... as is most of the 19th century wing. Another installation is the marvelous jewelry boutique of George Fouquet, a spendiforous little space of Art Nouveau architecture and design intended to showcase jewelry of the Art Nouveau style.
In the courtyard, before one arrives at the ticket booth, is a statue of Louis XIV.
Behind Louis, you can see a drape of some kind: the entire 17th century wing was shut down the day I visited for some kind of construction or repair.
There are rooms of furniture, some complete installations, some simply showcasing period style. There are signs, sculpture, painting, photography, and many fascinating things. One room holds nothing but period sculptures and statues of famous French men and women of their period, some caricatures and some not.
Besides the glorious permanent collection, the Carnavalet holds short-term exhibitions, and I saw the most recent one on Victor Hugo's Les Misérables, which just closed this weekend. The exhibition followed the way in which Hugo used specific sites in Paris in the novel. Since the novel covered two different times in Paris--separated by the central portion of the story--the exhibition used maps, engravings, photographs, and all sorts of objects to demonstrate the way Hugo took his story from real life... and the parts of Paris Hugo used are still there, if one would like to walk them.
The Carnavalet is only a short walk from Hugo's own museum, housed in the Place des Vosges, but it is also close to the Musée Picasso, the Archives Nationales (which holds exhibitions focusing on the documents of French history), and multiple other museums, as well as the Rue des Rosiers, a great street to find inexpensive, delicious restaurants and take-away Jewish and Middle Eastern food.
The Carnavalet is located at 23, rue de Sévigné; Métro St. Paul or Chemin Vert. Like most other museums, it is closed Monday but open Tuesday through Sunday, 10am-6 pm. It also has a great gift/book shop; one can buy gifts for friends or browse the excellent collection of art and history books, featuring quirky as well as academic styles. The shop can be visted without paying a fee or going into the museum, but both museum and gift shop often shut down (or nearly) at lunch time.
What I am saying is that it may take several visits before you can see all of the good things the Carnavalet has to offer. Go back, often. It is rarely crowded, so go on a Sunday while you are strolling through the Marais or combine it with one or two other museums for a full day--a pleasure!--but I warn you, it is stuffy in summer.
Pearl
Before leaving Paris in December I made certain to visit the exhibit of Kurosawa paintings being held at the Petit Palais. Unfortunately, it closed on January 11, but if you missed it, I am certain the Petit Palais gift shop (one of the best museum gift shops in town, by the way) can supply you with the extraordinary catalog.
The exhibit featured 87 paintings by the Japanese director. They are mixed media, actually, not only paint but ink and other media, and were made as preparatory work for such films as RAN, KAGEMUSHA, and DREAMS. It was surprisingly small and compact: one walks through a slightly irregular corridor that causes spectators to flow forward as the paintings move chronologically as well, grouped by film.
I am most familiar with RAN, and found the group of paintings for this film amazingly evocative of that film, both in the scope of the larger battle scenes and the small, intimate moments between main characters. With that in mind, it was easier to imagine how the other paintings, about films I do not know or barely know, were just as evocative.
As you can see, the works were extraordinary: bold, colorful, startling snapshots of what Kurosawa imagined--and what was then captured by his cinematographer and cameraman through the lens. Unfortunately, besides myself there were only two well-dressed women speaking in French and one young man, sketching several of the paintings. I think there were few people in part because the huge Picasso exhibit was just around the corner, and the press had played that one up and virtually ignored this smaller exhibit.
Which is criminal.
Here is a site that includes several of the paintings.
The commentary notes that in one case--I think it was KAGEMUSHA--the director was having difficulty raising enough money to film the project. He made the various paintings as a way of showing investors (I suspect Western investors) what he ahd in mind: the result, both George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola invested and helped find other investors. But the paintings are so vivid and specific, so bold and dramatic I am not surprised Kurosawa could find people interested in investing once they saw the pieces.
I plan to bundle up this weekend with several of the director's films featured here and enjoy comparing the onscreen wrok with the paintings in the catalogue.
Pearl
One of the last museums I visited in Paris was the Musée Zadkine. It is a relatively small museum located in the southern part of the 6th arrondissement, at 100bis, rue d'Assas. It is dedicated to the works of Ossip Zadkine, a Russian sculptor who lived and worked in Paris after 1910, where he became immersed in the Cubist movement, alongside Picasso.
The museum is his house, donated to the city by his wife, after her death. Like the Musée de la Vie Romantique, it takes a sharp eye to find it.
Going down the rabbit hole, so to speak, one finds the inner gateway.
Aha! Turn here and enter the courtyard of the house and studio where Zadkine worked. Note: the lady in the mustard-colored coat was not with me, but since we entered at the same time (both a little confused) she provided an excellent sighting point for the museum. The first building one sees, straight ahead, was the studio: you must pay first and then enter here.
Zadkine was a sculptor, and he worked in all materials: metal, wood, stone. The first two rooms hold examples of his work on a relatively small scale. The work is very reminiscent of Picasso and Modigliani, but the variety of materials really interested me. It seemed as if he was working similar ideas about representation across a lot of different materials to test how to work each one, and how each material would collaborate with his artistic experiments.
There was a specific exhibition on while I visited, titled "Creation/Destruction" which centered on a wooden sculpture--this time larger than life--that Zadkine carved and then placed in his garden. He left the sculpture there and, over time, weather and the elements "deconstructed" it. Now it is seen, recovered, in four pieces. The sculpture used a continuous theme for Zadkine, that of modernist caryatids inspired by those originally on Athens's Parthenon but reimagined in Cubist terms. The pieces accompanying this on display show the same elements the sculptor built into other, contemporary works: the elongated female shape, the raised arm, the turned head, etc. Again, the same elements are found on sculptures across a variety of materials and sizes.
The life of the sculpture was also documented from Zadkine's original work, to days and nights (years!) in the garden, and its recovery/restitution.
Meanwhile, out in the garden, most sculptures are seated, and in the studio as well the exhibition and Zadkine's other works are displayed. On a warmer day (this was the same day as the very chilly winds and the icy covering of the fountain seen here), the garden would be absolutely wonderful, allowing one to sit in a charming bench just outside the museum's front door.
The nice thing about this museum is that it is next door to the Jardins du Luxembourg, not far from shopping in the lovely stores of the 6th or 7th, and a great place to spend an hour in a day crowded with shopping and/or strolling.
Pearl
The Musée Galliera is a museum of fashion and costume. It is located in the 16th, only a stone's throw from the Musée Guimet. The museum is only open for special exhibitions, and it has one now through the end of April 2009: Sous l'empire des crinolines (1852-1870).
This is right up my alley, in terms of the historical project I am researching on actresses. The exhibition focuses on the clothing of women during the Second Empire, and by extension the cult of consumerism and luxury that these fashions encouraged. Both Emperor Napoléon III and Empress Eugénie recognized the importance of fashion as a key industry and export of France, but also as a sign system that delineated gender and class.
The dresses, accessories, and artwork included in the exhibition are fantastic. Again, this is the clothing of the Empress, as well as noble and upper middle class women... not the working classes. Here is an example of a robe de jour (daytime dress):
This dates from 1866 and was worn by the princesse Mathilde. It is silk, with the red and black stripes woven into the fabric. As you can see, the shape is distinctive: rounded shoulders, fitted bodice, wasp waist, and full, blooming skirt... over hoops and crinolines. This is one of the first dresses in the exhibition, and it is gorgeous. My photo doesn't really do it justice, which is why I took so few pictures.
Instead I bought the excellent catalogue, which not only provides details about each object included in the exhibition but a great collection of photographs of each dress, piece of jewelry, accessory, photo, or engraving. Then the catalogue surrounds each object with a cultural description. In other words, this is the kind of catalogue you wish every exhibition would produce.
I have to say that this kind of exhibition is manna from heaven for me.
The curators also displayed the costumes in plexiglass cubes that allowed me to see the dresses from all sides--also uncommon!--and provided explanations of the customs of period fashions.
For example: many luxury dresses were made in three or four separate parts. There was a skirt, often made with ruffles or beaded trims and ribbons. Then there were two or three different styles of bodies: one for day, with longer sleeves and one for evenings or balls, with a deeper decollatage and tighter waist.
Here are two bodices, the one on the left for day and the one on the right for fancy dress/evening. The skirt would be the same fabric, so that on a woman it would look like a one-piece dress. You cannot tell from this picture how low the nighttime bodice is, but the upper edge would uncover about half of the wearer's breasts. You can see how tiny the waists are on these pieces.
There might also be a fourth piece, a kind of overskirt that would either look like a faux sash in front or would be designed to be a much more elaborate piece around the waist. This would be open over the skirt in front, and trail into a significant train behind.
The fabrics are silk, satin, velvet, and different kinds of gauzes. The most popular colors were pastels in yellow, rose, lilac, blue, and green, or white, red, and black. The elaborate, machine-made lace came in black or white, and could be made not only into trim but shawls, scarves, and mantillas (the Empress was born in Spain).
This is a world where days were spent making polite visits and leaving photo cards behind, while nights were for banquets, balls, and the theatre. The Emperor Napoléon III was a fan of the theatre and of actresses... which is the subject of my study.
Sous l'empire des crinolines is an excellent exhibition, whether you enjoy fashion or not. This exhibition recognizes the overlap between politics, consumerism, and fashion in very clear and distinct ways. It is fabulously produced.
The Musée Galliera: 10, av Pierre 1er de Serbie; 16th arr., Métro Iéna or Alma-Marceau; the museum is open every day except Monday from 10 to 18h.; this exhibition closes 26 April 2009. There is no café and no bookstore in the museum, but an excellent café can be found just across the street from the entrance.
Pearl
Last Saturday after walking the Champs Elysees, I went off to see the exhibit of portraits by Van Dyke I'd been anticipating for weeks. The exhibit, which was crowded into six small rooms on the first floor of the Jacquemart-Andre museum, was fantastic.
Aside from the problems of extremely crowded rooms--which admittedly would be crowded with more than eight people in them and there were many more than eight, including a tour group--the exhibit was simply brilliant. Small, focused and breathtaking.
There were mostly painted portraits, from Van Dyke's early years in the Netherlands and Rome, and then from his time in England during the 1630s under commision to Charles I and his court. There were also a few pencil and pen sketches.
I bought the catalogue, which has very good reproductions of the various paintings.
Below is a self-portrait of Van Dyke, pained while in Rome when he was in his 20s.
Van Dyke is known for his portraits of Charles I of England. This one--not a great photo here--is an amazingly beautiful portrait in person. Charles I was an unfortunate king but a fascinating subject for a great painter. In this one, Charles wears the insignia of the Order of The Garter, as well as a rather fabulous lace collar and baroque pearl earring in his left ear. The king always looks so elegant in these Van Dyke paintings but you can see, too, why he failed as a great ruler. Van Dyke's portraits are a bit too perceptive and revealing.
This is an absolutely gorgeous sketch of Charles that never materialized into a final painting. Again, the elegance, the details of expression, beard, and hair are simply marvelous.
Two of my favorite Van Dykes are the portraits he did of Charles' children, but only one sketch was included in this exhibit. Both paintings currently belong to Queen Elizabeth II and are hung at Windsor. One of my favorite parts of the visit to Windsor we take with the Oxford program are the Queen's paintings... it's a nice collection. I have several favorites that I fantasize about smuggling out under my coat. Not that they would fit, and not that I would ever do such a thing...
Pearl
Link: Musee Jacquemart-Andre
This gorgeous picture is from last Friday night, outside the Musée d'Orsay.
I love the feature on my point and shoot that handles shakiness: clearly, it wasn't on for this shot.
Pearl
In my first post on the Basilica of Saint Denis, I wrote about the Gothic architecture inside and out. Here, I am adding the material about what makes a visit to Saint Denis so interesting for most people: its history as a necropole, or burial site, for the kings and queens of France.
After seeing the interior of the church itself, I exited and re-entered, after paying my 6.50 euros, entering through the south facade into the ambulatory, where the various burial monuments have been relocated.
The monuments come in two forms. Most of them are termed gisants, meaning the reclining form of monument, carved in stone to resemble the dead person. There are some kneeling in prayer, termed priants. Most appeared to be in white stone, probably marble, although the earliest ones were of a much rougher stone.
The earliest monument was to Clovis I, a 5th century ruler who brought together all the tribes termed "Franks" under one king for the first time. The monuments date almost chronologically from the 10th century to 1789, and all but three were originally buried here. Since that time, however, monuments and memorials for more than these have been brought here, including marble statues and tombs for Louis XVI and Marie-Amtoinette.
The gisants and priants are grouped around the ambulatory and behind the altar by period.
Most of the monuments have their feet resting on an animal. For kings and queens, that would be a lion. For nobility, it is often a dog. Or two.
As well as these simpler monuments that would have been laid on top of a grave, there were several grand tombs. These, like the one below for Francois I and his queen, Claude, were large enough for multiple bodies. Both Francois and Claude were buried here. On top of the marble square, are the kneeling figures of the king, queen and their three children. Below, in the open space, are the marble "bodies" of the king and queen, found naked and in a very human kind of repose. Around the tomb are scenes from Francois's reign.
There are several of these grand tombs, all from the Renaissance.
One can also go into the crypt, where the royal bodies were interred and where the digging still goes on. The crypt is located directly under the raised nave, behind the altar. Here, too, Gothic architecture can be seen, albeit with much lower ceilings.
Down here are the Bourbon tombs, as well as the interrment of royal body parts. The tradition of the king as having a spiritual as well as royal body made the heart and other organs valuable; after death they were removed and stored separately, as here.
In this gogeous site, even the floors are beautifully decorated.
Pearl
Tuesday, I intended to see the current exhibition at the Musée Jacquemart-André. Tuesday was a holiday here, and this museum was one of the few remaining open.
The exhibition is on the paintings of Anthony Van Dyke, one of the most brilliant of court portraitists.
And... when I got there, the line was not only out the door of the ticket office, but down the covered walkway to Boulevard Haussman, and down Boulevard Haussman. That's a long line.
Since it was lunchtime and I planned to eat in the museum café, anyway, I skipped the line and went into the museum space... because you don't have to wait if you go to the café. Hah!
The line for lunch was much shorter. I was given a lovely table in the elegant indoor space; there is an outside, covered terrace as well. The cafe serves lunch from 11:45 to 3, then tea from 3. I had lunch: another chevre chaud salad, with lettuce, tomatoes, prosciutto-like ham, walnuts, and two slices of slighted melted goat cheese on thinly sliced brown bread. Yum. The plate also came with a small dish of olive tapenade, which I devoured on the baguette slices included. A nice glass of wine, a carafe of water, and then dessert and coffee. Dessert was a pistachio-meringue "sandwich" of fresh raspberries and cream. It was too much food, but I ate it all.
Then, seeing the line was just as long, although it was not 90 minutes later, I ambled through the museum's very good bookstore. I looked through the Van Dyke exhibition catalogue--which ensured that I will return for that show, just on another day.
The entry to the museum, which is also the entry to the café, is gorgeous.
The entry is through the columns to the right. The white awning is the terrace roof.
The museum was originally the home of Edouard André, a 19th-century banker, and Nélie Jacquemart, a painter and his wife. The museum's holdings include the great collection this couple acquired during their marriage and their fantastic home.
Once I see the exhibition, I'll have more to share. A good excuse to go back to the Musée Guimet, which is only two arrondissements away. Until then, I recommend the tea room at this museum, open 365 days a year, for lunch and high tea: only a few euros more than other cafés across Paris (except the delicious desserts, which are made in house and delightful).
Pearl
Links: Museé Jacquemart-André
Since I read Annie LaMott's post on Salon about her in-Box to God, I have been thinking about what a good idea that is. First, because I admire Annie Lamott as a writer writing about writing, and second, because letting go is not something I do well. And maybe third, because I love boxes of all types: it's another obsession, like coffee, Bruce Springsteen, and paper goods. Not dangerous, just sometimes inconvenient.
At any rate, last week at the Musée Guimet I finally found a box I felt worthy of the job.
It is round (a shape I like, instinctively), and the outside is origami paper. There were multiple pattens, and I picked this one because it will go well with an African wire basket I already have at home on my desk. I use the basket--made from copper wire wrapped with brightly colored plastic coating--to hold my Post-it pads.
Once I opened it, I was really hooked.
There's a second lid inside, and the box is aluminum, I think. Very light in weight.
The box is small overall, holding only 110 grams. The outside paper is so beautifully put on that I can match the lid and body pictures perfectly. And the circle on the top nearly matches the sides... due to the pattern, it cannot match exactly. The handwork here is gorgeous and meticulous, so whoever made it (and it seems to be a combination of hand- and machine-made) took a lot of care with this box.
That kind of care is important with everything you make, and it pleases me to own something that the maker cared this much about. William Morris said, "Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." These are good words to start a week with.
I have added a few books I think are excellent about creativity and writing to my library. Here is the link to LaMott's post on Salon.
Pearl
