I visited the exhibition of “Picasso et les Maîtres,” at the Grand Palais on the Champs Elysées at 2:00 am on Monday, February 2, 2009. Somehow, late Sunday night, hundreds upon hundreds of people like me (and also not at all like me) lined up to see a show of Picasso’s works alongside those of his contemporaries and influences. Since I had reserved a ticket, I didn’t have to wait in the line, but it was quite fascinating to see so many people (mostly of the 20-40 year old group, but some were older) out so late on a Sunday, let alone for an art exhibition. It is truly a cultural spectacle.
I’ve never formally studied art, but my parents like art so I’ve been to a lot of museums and I’m fairly familiar with a lot of the famous artists at the exhibition, including Picasso, Cezanne, El Greco, Renoir, etc. I don’t claim to be an expert (or even knowledgeable) by any means, but I will do my best to make pertinent comments on my observations from Sunday night.
The first thing that I noticed was the breadth of work that the expo covered. There were dozens of artists in multiple mediums, but it was all related back to the focal point—that is, Picasso. The juxtaposition of classical (or non-cubist) artists with Picasso’s works showed clear relations between them, in subject matter, color schemes, or other aspects of the paintings. As Midori put it, it was a “curatorial masterpiece.” I was particularly impressed by the comparison of some of Picasso’s later (and extremely cubist) works with those of sixteenth century artists, and the clear relation between them, such as Picasso’s and Diego Velásquez’s Las Meninas (Picasso did a series of them in a very short period of time). It’s very impressive how many variations he created on the same piece; all are similar, but with very different results. (This is Velàsquez's Las Meninas and these are Picasso's.)
The show was divided into several segments with different focuses in each one. Among them were his still-lifes, nudes, and portraits. I was particularly interested in some of his still-lifes, which were very well done in a traditional sense, but with the cubist sense of perspective made them particularly interesting, especially in my groggy 3:00 am consciousness. It seems that some of his later pieces lack attention to detail, with messy brush strokes and large blocks of color, but I think the effect makes much more sense in the context of the abstract perception of space and bodies. It isn’t the detail that matters in that case, but the representation of the altered perception in a way that the viewer can relate to the idea of the artist.
The other part of the exposition that popped out at me was the crowd. It was an exceedingly diverse group of people. I was surprised to see so many people, so late at night. Another surprising aspect of the crowd was how international it was. I heard several other Americans, as well as some Brits and Spaniards. There was also a woman with a sleeping baby strapped to her chest. I realize that it’s an incredible exhibit and all, but I don’t understand why so many people would choose to go at 2:00 am. If they thought it was going to be less crowded, they were wrong.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Don't You Dare Like Picasso
Yes, I will be the last from the group that visited “Picasso et les Maîtres” to comment...
It has come to my attention recently that amongst many Parisians, Picasso is very unpopular. Though the line-up Sunday (and the crowd inside) was very impressive, I have been a bit turned-off by the attitude that some of the Parisians that I interact with regularly display towards this grand artiste. Before I went to the exhibit, my host father made a point of asking me if I liked Picasso. Since I never know what the “right thing to do” is in parisian culture, I remained pretty neutral. “Yes,” I said, “but I don’t know very much about him and I haven’t seen much of his work.” Lies. I have seen several Picasso exhibits and I do like his work. “Il fait n’importe-quoi un peu, n’est-ce pas?” my host dad replied. I was a little shocked by this response. Given that Picasso is so highly regarded and is such a presence in many “high” art galleries, I couldn’t believe that my very cultured (though traditionalist) host father, who worked as an appraiser for a bank most of his life, couldn’t at least admit that there was a good deal of thought in his artistry. In his opinion, Picasso was just doing “n’importe-quoi”, which is an expression that implies not only “doing whatever”, but also a sense that there is a randomness, a carelessness to it.
I really like Picasso’s work. There it is, a banal statement, but his early work in the Blue Period, all the way to cubism, is pretty stunning. Though it wasn’t at the museum this time around, my favourite is this one: http://www.roberthouse.com/other/france/images/london/picasso.jpg. I love the shades he uses, and in my experience in the painting class I’m taking this quarter, it must be very difficult to mix paints so close in hue, but that stand out from each other all the same. Concerning his cubist representations, I really enjoyed his take on the narrative of the Sabines, and his collection of matadors. I enjoyed this one in particular: http://www.artchive.com/artchive/p/picasso/sabine.jpg, because I think the phallic suggestiveness and spin on David’s classical nudism is “amusant”. I also think the child in the painting adds a lot of movement, and for me, this is an example of cubism working it’s best to give the impression of many different perspectives, in a way that really catches the attention and the eye. It was very interesting to see Picasso’s work next to some that inspired it. The mix of classic, neo-classic, cubism, etc. was very interesting, because it actually highlighted the similarities between the styles, versus the (perhaps) expected opposite. For me, this particularly showcased the fact that Picasso was a forward thinker, and really stepped away from his peers in a new direction. Maybe that’s why he’s so prevalent in art galeries. Maybe it’s just that people like “that guy in the red coat that always stands directly in front of me”, or “that goth wearing a corset and a skirt even though he’s a guy with a hairy chest” relate to the rebel in his art.
Once again, you can imagine my dismay yesterday in interacting with two people who had utter disrespect for Picasso’s art. The first one was actually one of two painting teachers that teach my class at l’Ecole des Arts Plastiques. Though I know absolutely nothing about painting, I’m taking this class with the hopes of enriching my art history studies. Well, you would think that this teacher would appreciate my Picasso-inspired self-portrait, right? Wrong. When I tried to explain that I was using greens and blues for my skin instead of more traditional “chair” (or skin colour, with the classic light she wanted) because I had been inspired by Picasso’s blue period, my teacher was absolutely disdainful. When I told her it was because I had been to see his exhibit the night before, she asked me outright which specific painting I was alluding to. Next, she suggested that I remove all of the harsh edges and lines I had given to my face, to reduce the impact they were having on my facial structure. Her final comment was that I had aged myself considerably, that overall it was dark, and made some kind of huffy comment in French that I didn’t completely comprehend but understood to mean that Picasso was off in another world doing unimportant things. (!) I couldn’t figure out how to properly rebel against her, so I set to putting more light on my cheeks. The end result was awful.
At this point, since my post is getting long, I am going to have to take a stand against these Parisians: Picasso is a grand maître, too! When his painting is sitting beside a Velázquez or a Degas, don’t say, “Il fait n’importe-quoi”! I think he is a genius of mixing colour, and perspective. I think he had mastered the classic in the Blue Period and said, “Quoi d’autre?” Maybe next week, I’ll take on cubism for my art teacher...
Nuit Blanche
Nuit Blanche is a night when Paris doesn’t sleep for the sake of art. Where for one night all the museums stay open through till dawn and musicians, dancers, and artists of every kind line the streets of Paris to pay tribute to their craft. Too bad it took place in October.
I decided however, to try and recreate the spirit of that night. So, when my alarm went off at midnight waking me from a short nap after gallivanting around Belgium, I coerced myself out of bed, in true Parisian style, for the sake of art. When I arrived at the Grand Palais for the Picasso et les maîtres exhibit, Parisians and foreigners, the young and the grayed alike waited in line for the 2 am reservation. Only in Paris do people line up like it’s Black Friday in America in order to push their way through a crowded exhibition of paintings.
The problem I found when comparing Picasso’s works with those that he was inspired by was that Picasso seemed lack-luster in contrast to his “masters.” The fault of the curatorial concept was that instead of making Picasso’s work seem unique, it appeared as though he merely copied the famous subjects, compositions, and techniques of his predecessors and contemporaries. His brief jaunt into Pointillism (that I had never previously encountered) was preceded by Seurat’s extensive research into the technique of mélange optique.
Like every artist, Picasso studied the kouroi of Ancient Greece and the infamous reclining nude. Yet, even the untrained eye can discern the paintings of Picasso’s later works—the skewed eyes, angular nose, and expansive color palette. However, as I write this review, I can’t seem to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes Picasso so renowned. To his credit, he had one of the longest painting careers resulting in a portfolio that traverses several style periods. As a result, his style became an amalgamation of different influences and yet surmounts to a style that cannot be subjugated to a single style period but rather can only be defined as “Picasso.” The exaggerated body parts from early 16th century Mannerism, combined with the unnatural use of color from Fauvism, and the grandiose subject matter of Neoclassicism makes up Picasso’s L’enlevement des Sabines, 1963 (d’après David).
I was, however, put off by the Eurocentric curation of the exhibit in that the exhibition only contained European “masters” without giving reference to Japanese prints that undoubtedly influenced the flattening of perspective nor any African wood masks that certainly influenced the angularity of faces within Picasso’s portraiture and one of his most famous oeuvres, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon (not displayed as part of the exposition). I have included an example here.
As my eyelids wavered with fatigue and my vision became that of a soft focus camera, I realized a defining thread that weaved through Picasso’s blue, rose, proto-cubist, cubist (analytic and synthetic), and later periods. Throughout his career, there is a certain distance in the gaze of the subject. Even early portraiture that would be considered “realistic” by Picasso standards are removed from the viewer by a glazed over gaze. While I listen to my friends who are art history majors lament about an entire semester spent on the concept of “the gaze” in Art1, I myself had never noticed the consistency with which the eyes of the subject never directly meet the viewer throughout Picasso’s works. Sure enough, a little web curiosity led to the discovery of “La Mira Fuerte” (the powerful gaze) a concept that Picasso addresses late in his career as the large bubble eyes become paramount in his works. In this way, the artist reminds us of the artist’s most powerful tool: his eye.
So as people flocked like sheep through the exhibit glued to their omniscient audioguides, they had forgotten their most important role: that of the observer. Picasso’s works—though sometimes contested for its aesthetic value—provides a selective view of the important elements of the works that influenced him. Thus, it is not the masterpieces that shed new light on Picasso—but rather Picasso’s extractions that distill the masterpieces to what Picasso’s eye found to be important. I was most accosted (pleasantly so) by his explicit nudes that graphically portrayed only the defining elements of a reclining nude. Picasso extracted and portrayed only select female body parts in exaggeration thereby pointing out the objectification of the female body inherent in reclining nudes.
As I descended the marble staircase of the Grand Palais, snow lined the banisters and the Champs Elysees providing the final detail of my nuit blanche.
I decided however, to try and recreate the spirit of that night. So, when my alarm went off at midnight waking me from a short nap after gallivanting around Belgium, I coerced myself out of bed, in true Parisian style, for the sake of art. When I arrived at the Grand Palais for the Picasso et les maîtres exhibit, Parisians and foreigners, the young and the grayed alike waited in line for the 2 am reservation. Only in Paris do people line up like it’s Black Friday in America in order to push their way through a crowded exhibition of paintings.
The problem I found when comparing Picasso’s works with those that he was inspired by was that Picasso seemed lack-luster in contrast to his “masters.” The fault of the curatorial concept was that instead of making Picasso’s work seem unique, it appeared as though he merely copied the famous subjects, compositions, and techniques of his predecessors and contemporaries. His brief jaunt into Pointillism (that I had never previously encountered) was preceded by Seurat’s extensive research into the technique of mélange optique.Like every artist, Picasso studied the kouroi of Ancient Greece and the infamous reclining nude. Yet, even the untrained eye can discern the paintings of Picasso’s later works—the skewed eyes, angular nose, and expansive color palette. However, as I write this review, I can’t seem to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes Picasso so renowned. To his credit, he had one of the longest painting careers resulting in a portfolio that traverses several style periods. As a result, his style became an amalgamation of different influences and yet surmounts to a style that cannot be subjugated to a single style period but rather can only be defined as “Picasso.” The exaggerated body parts from early 16th century Mannerism, combined with the unnatural use of color from Fauvism, and the grandiose subject matter of Neoclassicism makes up Picasso’s L’enlevement des Sabines, 1963 (d’après David).
I was, however, put off by the Eurocentric curation of the exhibit in that the exhibition only contained European “masters” without giving reference to Japanese prints that undoubtedly influenced the flattening of perspective nor any African wood masks that certainly influenced the angularity of faces within Picasso’s portraiture and one of his most famous oeuvres, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon (not displayed as part of the exposition). I have included an example here.
As my eyelids wavered with fatigue and my vision became that of a soft focus camera, I realized a defining thread that weaved through Picasso’s blue, rose, proto-cubist, cubist (analytic and synthetic), and later periods. Throughout his career, there is a certain distance in the gaze of the subject. Even early portraiture that would be considered “realistic” by Picasso standards are removed from the viewer by a glazed over gaze. While I listen to my friends who are art history majors lament about an entire semester spent on the concept of “the gaze” in Art1, I myself had never noticed the consistency with which the eyes of the subject never directly meet the viewer throughout Picasso’s works. Sure enough, a little web curiosity led to the discovery of “La Mira Fuerte” (the powerful gaze) a concept that Picasso addresses late in his career as the large bubble eyes become paramount in his works. In this way, the artist reminds us of the artist’s most powerful tool: his eye.
So as people flocked like sheep through the exhibit glued to their omniscient audioguides, they had forgotten their most important role: that of the observer. Picasso’s works—though sometimes contested for its aesthetic value—provides a selective view of the important elements of the works that influenced him. Thus, it is not the masterpieces that shed new light on Picasso—but rather Picasso’s extractions that distill the masterpieces to what Picasso’s eye found to be important. I was most accosted (pleasantly so) by his explicit nudes that graphically portrayed only the defining elements of a reclining nude. Picasso extracted and portrayed only select female body parts in exaggeration thereby pointing out the objectification of the female body inherent in reclining nudes.As I descended the marble staircase of the Grand Palais, snow lined the banisters and the Champs Elysees providing the final detail of my nuit blanche.
Picasso et Les Maîtres
Truthfully, trekking out to the Grand Palais in the middle of the night right after we got back from Lille, Ghent and Bruges was pretty much the last thing in the world I felt like doing. But with the exhibit, Picasso et les Maîtres, closing the next day, this was my last time to see what would surely be an incredible collection of works by Picasso and the great painters that inspired him. Of course, as it turns out, our 2am ticket to the museum made the experience that much more interesting. We had arrived (relatively) early at the Grand Palais off the Champs Elysées hoping in vain to get into the museum a little earlier, thus go home for some much needed sleep a little earlier. What we did not expect was the massive crowds of several hundreds of people waiting in line in the freezing cold, all sacrificing precious hours of sleep to catch the exhibit before it closed. When we were finally allowed into the museum at just after 2:00, there was already a small crowd gathering around the entrance, waiting for the 2:30 entrance. Inside the museum, the halls were crowded and it was a serious challenge trying to get a glimpse of most popular paintings from behind a wall of 6-foot tall strangers. Working the room so that I could see all the paintings efficiently became a strategic and tactical effort. I later read that over 18,000 tickets had been sold for the 3 nights during which the Grand Palais would be open. Where did all these oh-so-cultural people come from? Only in Paris, I suppose.
The show itself was breathtaking, not only in terms of the richness and scale of the collection of works on display, but also in the manner in which the paintings were presented. It was truly a curatorial masterpiece, to be able to get hold of these incredible works of art all at the same time, and to display them in such an organized yet thought-provoking fashion. The exhibit was split into ten rooms, each organized by theme. Each display was preempted with a short reflection devoted to the events and influences which shaped Picasso's works in the room we were about to enter, and what the phase represented in terms of Picasso's career. These blurbs were usually complemented with quotes by the artist himself:
The show itself was breathtaking, not only in terms of the richness and scale of the collection of works on display, but also in the manner in which the paintings were presented. It was truly a curatorial masterpiece, to be able to get hold of these incredible works of art all at the same time, and to display them in such an organized yet thought-provoking fashion. The exhibit was split into ten rooms, each organized by theme. Each display was preempted with a short reflection devoted to the events and influences which shaped Picasso's works in the room we were about to enter, and what the phase represented in terms of Picasso's career. These blurbs were usually complemented with quotes by the artist himself:
"God made what did not exist, and so do I...He even made painting. So do I."
"Painting is nothing but signs"
"Painting is nothing but signs"
The exhibitions' curators displayed each thematic collection as a mélange between Picasso's influences and his own works. As a result, viewers were often able to extract the specific sources of inspiration out of Picasso's paintings. This is especially clear in the hall devoted to Picasso's "variations", which was one of my favourite rooms. I found myself walking back and forth multiple times between the original masterpieces of "les maîtres" and the many interpretations of Picasso, each time picking up on the different ways in which Picasso used the painting to "create" his own works. To me, it almost seemed like a systematic process: he would deconstruct and dissect the painting, analyse it, play around with different focuses within the painting, reinterpret it, reinterpret it some more, and finally reinvent the painting entirely. In some cases, he would put together influences from various works, layering them on top of each other, adding his signature use of texture and scale, to make it his own. In others, he would extend the frame of the painting, including into his interpretations what he envisioned to be taking place outside of the original tableau. Bearing in mind Picasso's mastery of different artistic styles and techniques, the end result is more often than not magnificent.
I would never label myself to be a die-hard Picasso enthusiast - in all honesty, there are numerous Picasso pieces which I have difficulty connecting with, which I fail to understand Picasso's intentions for, or which I simply find aesthetically unpleasing. Yet what continues to amaze me is his expert command of such a diverse range of techniques and styles. While I cannot claim to appreciate Picasso's portrait of Dora Maar, there are paintings from his Blue Period and Cubist Period which I found to be absolutely mesmerizing. I am fascinated that a single painter can extract from me a variety of such strong emotions, and that, I guess, is a testament to Picasso's incredible vision and artistry.
I would never label myself to be a die-hard Picasso enthusiast - in all honesty, there are numerous Picasso pieces which I have difficulty connecting with, which I fail to understand Picasso's intentions for, or which I simply find aesthetically unpleasing. Yet what continues to amaze me is his expert command of such a diverse range of techniques and styles. While I cannot claim to appreciate Picasso's portrait of Dora Maar, there are paintings from his Blue Period and Cubist Period which I found to be absolutely mesmerizing. I am fascinated that a single painter can extract from me a variety of such strong emotions, and that, I guess, is a testament to Picasso's incredible vision and artistry.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Picasso et les Maîtres at the witching hour
The circumstances were extraordinary: we were at the Grand Palais at the witching hour and we were not alone! In fact, there were hundreds of other people waiting in the bitter cold to get a jostled glimpse of the Picasso exhibit.
At 2 am, our assigned ticket time, we were allowed into the building. By that point I was as glad to be in warmth as I was to be seeing the exhibit. I made my way upstairs among the crowd of others to see Picasso and the Masters.
There was much artistry to be admired: Picasso, the masters that inspired him, and the amazing curator who put everything together. The collection of tableaux assembled in the Grand Palais stole the show, more than any one painting or series. Museums from every corner of the world had loaned the exhibit their masterpieces to paint a full and vibrant picture of the masters that inspired Pablo Picasso, a master in his own right.
The exhibit featured quotes form Picasso at the entry of each room, introducing his musings on inspiration, artists and what it means to be one. The quotes were followed by an explanation of what the paintings in the room were trying to convey and what they showed about Picasso’s career. I especially enjoyed the room of self-portraiture, a genre I enjoy because of its intimacy. A self-portrait shares much more than the physical appearance of the artist; by seeing how the artist sees himself, the viewer sees his world view, his insecurities, his sources of pride, his hopes, his pain, his soul. Given the figurative nature of much of Picasso’s work, this particular part of the exhibit was especially enlightening when juxtaposed with the portraits of Poussin and Manet, among others.
The collection of paintings from the blue period was also remarkable. I didn’t know much about Picasso before my visit (and probably couldn’t tell you too much about him now), but I felt that I left with a good sense of the blue period. The works were incredibly emotive and expressive, aesthetically beautiful and philosophically beautiful. I could have looked at those works for hours.
Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good look at much of anything because there were too many people. I had to elbow my way to the front and then could only stay 10 seconds or so before I was elbowed away by some other ambitious viewer. It was not a comfortable experience. I was also swaying with fatigue as it was 3 in the morning and we had been in four cities that day: Ghent in the morning, Bruges for the day, Lille for the train station, and back to Paris to stay. Ample time, space, and energy were seriously lacking and thus hindered my ability to properly view the exhibit.
The last room of the exhibit focused on Picasso’s nudes. This comparison seemed particularly relevant given the fact that I am in the midst of learning about Ingres in my art history class, an artist whose works were prominently features in the exhibit. I enjoyed the featured quote of this room the most, in which Picasso describes that he wished to portray the body as it really and truly was, not just as it appeared. Although I found some of his works too graphic and almost lurid, keeping Picasso’s goal in mind helped me understand and see what he was trying to accomplish. Having Picasso’s own words preface the room of nudes made all the difference.
The artistry not only of the painters but also of the curators and directors of the exhibition is more impressive the more I think of it. I wish I could have had more time to soak in all that was in front of me. What was presented was incredible but the circumstances were not ideal and I feel disappointed that I could not view the exhibit comfortably. Nonetheless, the visit was a true experience. Not many people can see they have been at an art exhibit at 3 am. Also, given the record-breaking success of “Picasso et les Maitres,” I proudly feel that I am a part of history. When we left the exhibit at 3:30 am, snow was falling all around us, blanketing our hooded heads and the Champs-Elysées. While we waited for cabs, I felt truly happy and inspired not only by the artistry of the exhibit, but also by the artistry of nature which fell all around
At 2 am, our assigned ticket time, we were allowed into the building. By that point I was as glad to be in warmth as I was to be seeing the exhibit. I made my way upstairs among the crowd of others to see Picasso and the Masters.
There was much artistry to be admired: Picasso, the masters that inspired him, and the amazing curator who put everything together. The collection of tableaux assembled in the Grand Palais stole the show, more than any one painting or series. Museums from every corner of the world had loaned the exhibit their masterpieces to paint a full and vibrant picture of the masters that inspired Pablo Picasso, a master in his own right.
The exhibit featured quotes form Picasso at the entry of each room, introducing his musings on inspiration, artists and what it means to be one. The quotes were followed by an explanation of what the paintings in the room were trying to convey and what they showed about Picasso’s career. I especially enjoyed the room of self-portraiture, a genre I enjoy because of its intimacy. A self-portrait shares much more than the physical appearance of the artist; by seeing how the artist sees himself, the viewer sees his world view, his insecurities, his sources of pride, his hopes, his pain, his soul. Given the figurative nature of much of Picasso’s work, this particular part of the exhibit was especially enlightening when juxtaposed with the portraits of Poussin and Manet, among others.
The collection of paintings from the blue period was also remarkable. I didn’t know much about Picasso before my visit (and probably couldn’t tell you too much about him now), but I felt that I left with a good sense of the blue period. The works were incredibly emotive and expressive, aesthetically beautiful and philosophically beautiful. I could have looked at those works for hours.
Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good look at much of anything because there were too many people. I had to elbow my way to the front and then could only stay 10 seconds or so before I was elbowed away by some other ambitious viewer. It was not a comfortable experience. I was also swaying with fatigue as it was 3 in the morning and we had been in four cities that day: Ghent in the morning, Bruges for the day, Lille for the train station, and back to Paris to stay. Ample time, space, and energy were seriously lacking and thus hindered my ability to properly view the exhibit.
The last room of the exhibit focused on Picasso’s nudes. This comparison seemed particularly relevant given the fact that I am in the midst of learning about Ingres in my art history class, an artist whose works were prominently features in the exhibit. I enjoyed the featured quote of this room the most, in which Picasso describes that he wished to portray the body as it really and truly was, not just as it appeared. Although I found some of his works too graphic and almost lurid, keeping Picasso’s goal in mind helped me understand and see what he was trying to accomplish. Having Picasso’s own words preface the room of nudes made all the difference.
The artistry not only of the painters but also of the curators and directors of the exhibition is more impressive the more I think of it. I wish I could have had more time to soak in all that was in front of me. What was presented was incredible but the circumstances were not ideal and I feel disappointed that I could not view the exhibit comfortably. Nonetheless, the visit was a true experience. Not many people can see they have been at an art exhibit at 3 am. Also, given the record-breaking success of “Picasso et les Maitres,” I proudly feel that I am a part of history. When we left the exhibit at 3:30 am, snow was falling all around us, blanketing our hooded heads and the Champs-Elysées. While we waited for cabs, I felt truly happy and inspired not only by the artistry of the exhibit, but also by the artistry of nature which fell all around
Flamboyance
Since I’ve been in Paris, I have been struck over and over again about how magnificently old some of this city is. On top of that, all of the older buildings, statues, and structures around Paris demonstrate a spectacular attention to detail, something that I truly believe has been all but lost. This is what I was thinking about when Michael and I happened upon the Tour de Saint-Jacques this afternoon.
Most of the other students had gone to the Picasso exhibit for this week’s entry, and Michael and I were not among them, so we decided to do something together. Going with the fundamental idea of the class, we proceeded to pick a metro stop and just walk around the area and see if we found anything interesting. We picked Châtelet both because it is a huge metro station and easy to get to and easy for us to get home, but also because it is close to the center of the city, in the fourth arrondissment, and we thought there would be lots of interesting things to discover. We were right.
Rising out of the wet and gray cityscape, the tower looms flamboyantly over its own plaza. The Parisians surely know how to light up their ancient structures, so while the surrounding buildings sulked in the shadows of their own hunch-shouldered dampness, the tour stood at least two stories higher than all of them, every crafted detail illuminated by carefully placed floodlights. And details there were. I believe that I can honestly say that la Tour de Saint-Jacques is the most detailed structure I’ve seen so far in Europe. I mentioned earlier that the tower has an air of flamboyance – after doing some research, I found that the architecture is actually called “flamboyant gothic.” The design and sculpture on the tower is truly overwhelming in its curly-cued complexity, and to make matters even more interesting, the tower was originally part of a church that was later torn down. I really cannot imagine an entire church done in the same style as that tower. It might actually look overdone, perhaps a few too many flourishes and sweeps and niches. While I mourn the loss of what was surely a wonderful place of worship, I am of the opinion that the tower really does stand better on it’s own.
To provide a verbal image of the detail work on the tower is difficult. However, one aspect of the structure does stand out. On the tower, there are nineteen saints carved close to life-sized and placed in various niches at varying heights. These nineteen saints were crafted by 19 different artists, and on the information placard near the tower, they had close-up shots of each of the saint’s faces. It is easy to see that each saint was hand carved with a completely individual style. Perhaps I’ve missed a critical detail about French gothic design (I could ask our tour guide from Lille I suppose), but I don’t think that commissioning 19 artists to create 19 individual renditions is typical. I felt extremely privileged to be able to walk all the way around the tower (as Michael and I did) and see the craftsmanship of so many gifted people.
To truly put the structure of the tower onto metaphorical paper, I'd have to use words like mellifluous, serendipitous, hierarchy, crystalline and horticulture, but those make no sense when strung together, so I’ve attached a picture.
Most of the other students had gone to the Picasso exhibit for this week’s entry, and Michael and I were not among them, so we decided to do something together. Going with the fundamental idea of the class, we proceeded to pick a metro stop and just walk around the area and see if we found anything interesting. We picked Châtelet both because it is a huge metro station and easy to get to and easy for us to get home, but also because it is close to the center of the city, in the fourth arrondissment, and we thought there would be lots of interesting things to discover. We were right.
Rising out of the wet and gray cityscape, the tower looms flamboyantly over its own plaza. The Parisians surely know how to light up their ancient structures, so while the surrounding buildings sulked in the shadows of their own hunch-shouldered dampness, the tour stood at least two stories higher than all of them, every crafted detail illuminated by carefully placed floodlights. And details there were. I believe that I can honestly say that la Tour de Saint-Jacques is the most detailed structure I’ve seen so far in Europe. I mentioned earlier that the tower has an air of flamboyance – after doing some research, I found that the architecture is actually called “flamboyant gothic.” The design and sculpture on the tower is truly overwhelming in its curly-cued complexity, and to make matters even more interesting, the tower was originally part of a church that was later torn down. I really cannot imagine an entire church done in the same style as that tower. It might actually look overdone, perhaps a few too many flourishes and sweeps and niches. While I mourn the loss of what was surely a wonderful place of worship, I am of the opinion that the tower really does stand better on it’s own.
To provide a verbal image of the detail work on the tower is difficult. However, one aspect of the structure does stand out. On the tower, there are nineteen saints carved close to life-sized and placed in various niches at varying heights. These nineteen saints were crafted by 19 different artists, and on the information placard near the tower, they had close-up shots of each of the saint’s faces. It is easy to see that each saint was hand carved with a completely individual style. Perhaps I’ve missed a critical detail about French gothic design (I could ask our tour guide from Lille I suppose), but I don’t think that commissioning 19 artists to create 19 individual renditions is typical. I felt extremely privileged to be able to walk all the way around the tower (as Michael and I did) and see the craftsmanship of so many gifted people.
To truly put the structure of the tower onto metaphorical paper, I'd have to use words like mellifluous, serendipitous, hierarchy, crystalline and horticulture, but those make no sense when strung together, so I’ve attached a picture.
Picasso , the Grand Master
When I first arrived in Paris Paris
Prior to viewing this exhibition, the only exposure that I had to Picasso was from a pin depicting “the Owl”, which my mom gave to me as a gift when I was 8 years old. Given that I know very little about art and art history in general, I took this as an opportunity to judge the famous Picasso for myself.
I had prepared myself in advance for the long line to enter the exhibit. As I came into view of the Grand Palais, the line stretched all the way out the doors, and curved around the courtyard. A clarinet player was serenading us with his music. I still marvel at how he managed to play for so long without losing his tuning in the cold air! Despite the sign that said "De ce point, l’attend est approximament 3hrs" (from this point on, the wait will be 3 hours), I decided to stick it out. Although my wait only ended up being slightly over an hour, it gave me plenty of time to observe the people in line with me; everyone from young children holding their parents’ hands, to older women dressed to the “T” in their (real) full length fur jackets and teenagers chatting animatedly in the line. The sheer number and range of the types of people that take pride and have a genuine interest in learning about the arts in Paris is so incredible, not a sight that I am used to seeing back home.
The exhibit itself was out of the ordinary. It was intriguing to be able to walk through each gallery and observe Picasso’s style drastically change, especially when brought into the context of what was occurring historically and politically at the time. Even more fascinating was the fact that I could look at Picasso’s original, and right next to it, see the work of Ingres or Rembrandt that inspired it.
I was struck most by how diverse Picasso’s artwork is, how he can utilize varying styles so effectively. As a student of art, Picasso would perform his “academic study” by sketching ancient roman statues using graphite. His interpretation of the artwork added a new dimension as his use of scale, drawing the statue’s face from a close angle, pulled me into a “living” world. The shading he employed in the background, his use of shadow and light added a more ominous tone to some sketches, while for others, presented the statue he was drawing with an angelic quality.
While Picasso had many “eras”, the painting of portraits, nudes, still lifes, his black series, hi
storical renderings, one of my favorite pieces of his art is “Man with a Guitar”. The segmentation of the painting distorts the picture enough to illustrate the complexity of the subject of the painting, but not so much that it takes away from the ability to distinguish the greater picture as a whole. The harsh lines and mismatched contours, combined with the subtle changes in color, add depth and give the impression that this particular piece of art is more than the sum of its parts. A sense of mystery surrounds the painting, and with each look, a new level of lucidity is established for the viewer as different components become apparent. The first time I looked at this painting, I was able to discern the broken figure of the man and his guitar. Upon the second glance, the wide, sweeping brushstrokes made an impression.
After reading more about Picasso online, I’ve realized that his art has so much significance and depth in terms of his stylistic choices, and yet, his “Infante Marguerite” does not appeal t
o me in any way. The lack of color-blending, the dissymmetry, the simplicity of the geometric shapes, these all make it seem as though any child could paint in a similar manner given a variety of paints and brushes. While art enthusiasts may find this statement appalling, neither do I feel connected to this painting, nor does it evoke any strong emotions. Especially when looking at it along side Velazquez’s rendition, the piece that originally inspired Picasso, I can’t help but wonder why Picasso chose this particular painting for his inspiration. How do artists decide what elements to take from others and how can they be successful in creating their own style?
It is evident to me that Picasso was very successful in creating a legacy that is solely attributed to him. As his father once told him, “I paint in reaction to the paintings which count for me, but I also work with what the [imaginary] museum lacks. Look carefully! It is just as important. You must to what is not there, what has never been done.”
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