Europe Day 53: Impressions

I broke my museum record today.  Musee D'Orsay managed to captivate my attention for five solid hours.  Even Kayla, who is well aware of the time I spend in museums, started to worry about me.  While I was enjoying Monet, Renoir, and Van Gogh, she had come back to the hotel, worked on homework, taken a nap, and I still had not returned. Perhaps I did take a little long, but I really was enjoying myself!

The paintings were, of course, wonderful.  I was utterly delighted to find that very few featured anything religious, compared to previous museum outings on this trip.  Instead, my eyes were engaged with cheerful colors made into flowers, people, and landscapes.

Initially, Monet was my favorite. Many of his paintings were in a seperate exhibit I would have had to pay extra for. But, with what I did see, I believe he must have been a cheerful artists, with all of his lovely colors.  Everything he paitined seemed joyfull.  Keep in mind that he was an impressionist.  Oddly, the more detailed you wished to see, the father away from the painting you must stand.  It was a confusing way to look at art.  In one piece, called "Lilas, Temps, Gris" in French, featured a hazy trio under a lilac tree. It was impossible to make out their faces.  Instead, their entire character had to be determined from their form and clothing. I could tell that they existed, but not really who they were.

Van Gogh was a bit of a surprise.  I am not afraid to say I am fairly ignorant of what makes art good, so when I saw his paitings with thick brush strokes and impossibly colors, I was a little taken aback that he should be a famous artist. But, the more I looked at his peices, the more I enjoyed them.  Yes, perhaps he is a little unexpected with his colors, but it did not make the art any less pleasing to look at.

Musee d'Orsay also featured a healthy collection of sculpture.  One of these was "David," by Antonin Mercie.  After seeing Michelangelo's David in the Accedemia, I had to take a moment to reflect on this smaller, bronze edition.  As I studied this David, the word that came to mind to describe him was "swarthy."  He wore a scarf on his head as well as a pendandt I could not make out.  Mercie caught him in the act of sheathing his sword after chopping off Goliath's head.  A grim smile played on his lips and his eyes watched is sword return to it's case, so long that the tip was lost in the hair of Goliath.  David stood with one foot firmly planted on Goliath's face. Mouth open, eyes closed, and a deep gouge in his forehead from the stone that felled him, the emotion on the face of Goliath was not clearly portaryed.  Did the veins stand out on his forhead in fear?  Or does his gapping jaw show astonishment that such a child could kill him? 

I also found a few peices of art from places I have been on the trip.  For example, "Tepidarium" shows women in a community bath in Pompeii.  The city that I had seen destroyed and destitue was painted alive and colorful; an interesting contrast to my memories.  I also saw a water color of Fribourg and a bridge we had crossed there.  A copy of St. Micheal on top of Mont St. Michel stood on the second floor too.  And, my favorite, I stumled upon a door depicting "Hell" from Dante's Inferno. I happened to notice that they were similar to the doors of the Baptistry in Florence.  Listening to the audio guide, I was right!  That is exactly where Auguste Rodin had found his inspiration!  I felt very educated in the art world after that.

As much as I enjoyed looking at the art, I also loved to look at my fellow museum attendees.  First to catch my eye was Vietnamese lady and her little girl.  Both dressed in pink, though the girl had ruffles on her dress, they crouched together in front of famous pieces of art while the Mom read an exverpt from the book, explaining it's significance.  With her long, twin French braids ending in pink bows, the girl listened to her Mama and seemed very interested.  She could not have been more than six years old, and she was learning about impressionist art!  I was impressed!

On the other other hand, I also saw a young boy in a red dinosaur T-shirt playing Super Mario on his DS.  When his Granmda wanted to show him a painting of Elephants in Africa, he begrudgingly stood up, stared for a moment, then too his father's hand and drug his tired feet away.  All three in the trio were obviously exhausted, either from looking at paintings for from convincing the grandson to look at paintings.  Even so, the little boy perked up in the Receiving Room. Done in the playful rococo style, this white room with gold decore was filled with mirrors and sparkling chandeliers.  The moment I stepped foot in there I longed for a man to take my arms and dance me around the room.  I was not surprised to see the boy suddenly get excited too.

Part of the museum was under rennovation, so one area was awkwardly lit and slightly hidden under a set of wide stairs.  It was there I found an older gentlemen sitting againts a pillar.  He wore a dark blue polo, gray pants and a denim baseball cap.  Even though he was sleeping, his glasses remain carefully perched on his nose and his hands properly folded.  I wonder who it is that brought him to the museum, only to leave him napping?

Most of all, I loved to see a put together, older women with graying hair.  Dressed in all black with a purple cardigan and pearl necklace, she discreetly scribbled notes into a little book after reading a plaque, just like I so often do.

I expected to see dozens of students copying the masters. Oddly enough, I only saw two. The first, a fashionable brown haired women, wearing a bouret, sketched the aisle of sculptures.  She leaned against a pedastool, supporting "Gerome Executant Les Gladiateaurs," by Jean-Leon Gerome. Even as she did so, a middle aged man in a blue button down shirt sat against the wall, sketching the very art she used as a backrest.  I found that to be an interesting contradiction of opinion of that particular peice.

I finally left the museum in time for dinner.  It was Josh's birthday, so Kayla, Tyler, Josh, Ashley, Melissa and I went out to eat at an Italian restaurant he had been wanting to try.  I'm sure that the restaurant is wonderful, but I think I have had enough Italian food to last me a while, so it was not that good to me.

After dinner we lost Melissa and Tyler to their homework, as I should have done, and the rest of us went to get crepes and gelato.  Well, once again, I had a crepe and everyone else had gelato. The chef a the crepe place remembered me, since I have been there so many times.  I ordered two butter and sugar crepes, and since they were so hot he gave me a plastic plate to carry them.  This worked out perfectly because the second crepe was for Josh, who had been wanting a crepe with ice cream on it.  He was buying his ice cream and, unbeknownst to him, I bought his crepe.  I'm not really sure if he enjoyed it, but I was pleased that it worked out.

The four of us enjoyed our dessert on a bridge between Il de Cites and Il St Louis.  Here, a quartet played music from the 1920's for a group of onlookers.  The banjo, bass, sax, and trumpet combined beautifully. The trumpet player would also sing.  He was likely in his sixties and had a wonderfully gravely voice perfectly suited to his tunes.  An American, he spoke English between songs and told of the different groups he had performed with.  He sported worn corduroy pants and bright blue chucks that instantly endeared him to my heart.  The sax player look snazzy in a cream and blue suit outfit, and, if you looked at him just right, it was easy to imagine te banjoy player sitting on his front porch, peice of hay between his teeth, playing his favorite tune. The bass player, a younger man, had obviuosly been practicing and managed to keep up with the old timers just fine. They sang songs about lazy rivers and being in love with a love song, but not having anyone to love.  Once more I wished a Frenchman would take my hands and dance with me across the bridge, but I had no such luck.  The French as I know them would never do such a thing.

A metro ride later I am back at the FIAP.  Truly exhausted, I am going to bed now, and I shall insist that Kayla does not talk to me. Recently, it has felt like we were having sleep overs instead of just rooming together.  And you know what they say about sleep overs-you do not sleep until it is over.  Tonight, it is over. 

Home in nine days!  I am so excited to see my family again!  But I am trying not to think on it too much.  I know that a month after I get back, I'll wish I was abroad once more.