The last time we were in Paris, this past spring, the leaves were full and verdant on the trees although the sky was as grey and gloomy as it may well be next week when I land there. . . .
As has often happened with us on a last day in Paris over the years, the mental shift to our return home, the time already spent in the city covering many kilometres, eating many meals, seeing and doing and listening so actively as to court fatigue and more than a hint of ennui. . . . it was not at all that we were bored with Paris but it was hard to imagine or choose the right way to fill our dwindling reserve of hours here meaningfully. And it seemed wrong just to let them lapse. . . Or something like that.
One such “last day in Paris,” perhaps six or eight years ago (I just found the post I wrote at the time— TEN years ago!), we managed to stumble accidentally into the Musée Zadkine, the sculptor’s former home and studio on Rue d’Assas, ’round the corner from the Jardin Luxembourg — where we had just been delighted to discover — again, accidentally, serendipitously–the bee hives.
This past June, what shifted our mood was a rather random decision, after walking through the 6th and the 5th along Boulevard Saint Germain, to visit L’Institut du Monde Arabe again (if I’m honest, the mood was probably more mine than his, perhaps because his expectations are often a bit lower — more realistic? — than my Paris ideals ;-).
Sadly, the dilating, light-controlling apertures of the Jean Nouvel-designed building no longer work their kaleidoscopic photovoltaic magic, but the mashrabiya’s intricately beautiful Arab geometry still delights. (Also sadly, I can find no trace of the many digital photographs I took of the apertures when we were lucky enough to see them in action.)
But there’s so much else that nourishes here. The architecture itself, full of symbolism. The art and artifacts, ancient and contemporary, with its history of “the Arab world” seen from and in a French context. I don’t know that it acknowledges that context in all its facets as fully as it could, but at least it acknowledges the breadth and depth of the history and culture. Aside: I’ve just read Alice Zeniter’s L’Art de Perdre, a novel about one Algerian family’s three generations of experience with, and in, France, from pre-Independence in post-WWII Algeria through to refugee camps in 60s France and right to the contemporary Parisian protagonist trying to understand and integrate her family’s alienation from its own history. The novel is rich and nuanced, and it will apparently be available in English next year as The Art of Losing (the novel takes its name from Elizabeth Bishop’s eponymous poem). Watch for it!
Because it was our last day, and energy was limited, mood changeable, we kept the visit light and easy, governed by whim.
Still, we could not help but pause, be educated and horrified along the way, as with this powerful 1955 work by Egyptian artist (1925-1966) Abdelhadi Al Gazzar representing the Denshawai “incident” in British colonial history. a disgustingly disproportionate response to an Egyptian village’s objections to British officers using the pigeons the villagers were raising for food as sport in their shooting games.
I loved this 1977 work by writer and artist Etel Adnan (Lebanon b.1925 ). Paris Roofs from Jim’s Windows.
Roughly, she is quoted in this interpretive plaque as saying that Among the different types of her painting work, she should mention the “leporellos” artist books that she began to make in the middle of the ’60s. They’re Japanese notebooks that fold. Made in Kyoto, and she buys them in San Francisco, New York or Paris. The folding paper creates a horizontal format that seems infinite and breaks out of the usual frame of painted work. She’s also transcribed here [in the folded pages] poems by Arab writers, without copying the classic calligraphy, to emphasize (show the value of) her own writing, with its imperfection, which introduces into the work the person who is writing. . .
These are her flowers, below. . . more recent work, from 2015 when she was 90 years old! (And here is a delightful video recorded when she was 93, speaking of “lightning-strike painting and words as gestures.” It’s just under five minutes long and quite likely to brighten your day.)
On the left, Fleurs sur le rebord de ma fenêtre (Flowers on my window ledge). . . on the right, Fleurs devant la montagne (Flowers in front of the mountain)
Also making good use of the Japanese accordion book is Syrian artist Fadi Yazigi (b. 1966), in a 2011 work called, simply, Figures.
The interpretive plaque next to his Figures-Couples (2017) quotes from a conversation with Claude Lemand (whose eponymous gallery offers a useful description of this exhibition, Drawings from the Arab World) in which the artist says, of his work on paper: “White pages, your purity moves us. Companions of passing time and of memory. Holders of colours and our joys, of cries and our sorrows, of the crimes of our oppressors. Journal of my sadness, of faces of others and of their gaze (looks, regards). Icon to say my alphabet and their words, my time and their sacrificed time, on what’s left of the white of memory.” Very rough translation is my own. . . (French museums and galleries seldom deign to translate, and I respect that decision if sometimes frustrated by it)
We often find that choosing one “special exhibition” within a large and potentially overwhelming institution allows us to focus better, to experience more of less, if you will. We did, all the same, browse (all too quickly) some of the beautiful artifacts and works of art from the larger collection. And I sketched two of these onto circles I’d pre-painted in my watercolour journal.
After which, eyes and mind filled, so many images and thoughts to process, we went up to the rooftop to take advantage of the Institut’s wonderful views.
And this fellow had the good idea of treating ourselves to lunch in the elegant Le Ziryab restaurant
with its gorgeous contemporary iterations of dishes from “the Arab world.”
Sadly, I failed to note the specifics of each dish, but you can probably appreciate the rich fragrance from the photos. . . .
While we waited for our food, I sketched a quick memory. . . . a single woman, about my age, had just left that table opposite us, right next to the window. I’m thinking I should reserve myself a seat there for next visit. . .
After the meal, waiting for my Thé à la menthe to steep, I sketched again. If you crane your neck sideways and can read my scrawl, you’ll see that we may have enjoyed a very discreet celebrity sighting while dining. . . .
(I don’t think I ever told you that I ate just across from William Hurt and his partner two nights in a row, in two different restaurants, both within a few blocks of my hotel, last fall. As with the possible KST sighting in June, not a ripple of attention disrupted the room. Over the years, visiting Paris, we’ve walked past Woody Allen as well as Kim Raver, and they, too, seemed comfortably anonymous, blending in as any other pedestrians on the busy streets of St. Germain. . .
So. I said yesterday that I’d post this today, and although I’d hoped that might be 8:30 this morning, I’m nonetheless going to pat myself on the back for getting it done by 8:30 this evening. And I’m going to thank you for being out there, reading. Because of you, I ended up spending three or four hours revisiting that “last day in Paris” and thinking again about the drawings “from the Arab world,” learning more about the artists than I knew at the time of viewing, discovering the wonderful interview with Etel Adnan (whose work I’m determined to learn more about now — she’s my new inspiration! 93 and still working joyously!).
Oh, one more thing before I go: if you have Netflix, you must watch the Cannes Critics’ Week Award-winning film I Lost My Body. The premise sounds odd, unlikely, horrific, but it’s beautiful and compelling and sweet and . . . well, also odd. Delightful. Amazing sound track. You can read reviews to find out more (basically, a severed hand travels across Paris in search of its body, and while it does so, it reviews the life of the body/person it was severed from. I know. And yet. . . . it’s animated, and the illustrations are worthy of more superlatives, but I’ll stop now. Let me know if you’ve seen it or if you do see it. . . .
Okay, enough already. So much in this post and now I’ll love to hear from you. Comments open. . . .
It seems a wise thing to do: choose 1 exhibit within the many offerings of a place and concentrate on that. It is also what I prefer, if possible. And sometimes I need to take a little break even while doing that and return to the same exhibit 30 mins later after a coffee or tea break in the cafe. Have found this especially true if the exhibit is more life-size photos, or very close up photos of faces. May sound silly, but it can feel emotionally draining if I am not prepared for how evocative some photographer's work can be, depending on the subject.
I especially like your black and white ink sketch on the brown paper. Brown paper "luggage" tags sketched with black and white would make lovely Christmas or other celebration gift tags. Would look special attached to a bottle of wine as a hostess gift, too. I so appreciate seeing into your sketching world and notebooks. You have so many talents.
Travel safe and have so much fun.
A.in London
If I can think of one word for you in your cultural explorations it would be "indefatigable", even tho I know you get physically tired. But your intellectual curiosity and openness are enviable!
You must be so familiar with Paris by now. I realise with a shock that the last time I was in Paris was in 1984….
Thank you for the recommendation of L'Art de Perdre. My French reading at the moment is limited to newspapers and magazines, which is a bit feeble. Happily I found L'Art de Perdre on the Institut Français online "Culturethèque", and have downloaded it to my basket. Colonial behaviours could be absolutely abominable – British, French, Belgian. But strange spin-offs, such as the British administration in India giving rise to the discovery of Indo-European by William Jones. I'm reading a lot about 1950s Britain just now, and discovering the political anguish about having to relinquish the former 'Empire' because it was costing too much. Much garment-rending about Britain's place in the world, based on a previous lofty world view. I will restrain myself from an explosion about the trouble that this persisting world view has got us into today.
We're no better in the UK at having multi-lingual interpretative plaques, although in Scotland you will get Gaelic alongside and sometimes even before the English…
Re: spotting the famous. Many years ago, I was hurrying down Charing Cross Road in my lunch hour, having been Christmas shopping in Oxford Street (insanity). Looking up, I found that walking towards me was Paul McCartney, with Linda, both obviously doing much the same as me. I was totally thunderstruck but realised the only thing to do was to nod and walk on by, leaving them to it. Paul had clocked that I had recognised them and looked a bit alarmed – what might I do? He nodded back and on we went. I liked that very much. It never seems odd seeing famous people in cities but should I stumble upon them in my village, a different story. Like the time my friend found herself, in the middle of Somerset, talking to Roxy Music….enjoy your trip.
I love to look back at former trips while preparing to travel again. But we rarely visit the same place twice. I'd love to go back to Paris and do some of the things we didn't do in 2015. Maybe one day.
Hope you enjoy your trip, Frances. Are you travelling, at least for a time, on your own? Enroute to Rome for Christmas, maybe?
Thank you for the recommendation (I Lost My Body). Speaking of Netflix and KST, I really liked that movie Sarah's Key. I enjoyed seeing KST in the role of the journalist. As for celebrity sightings, when we were in Arles this past October, we walked past Ines de la Fressange on a narrow street as she was doing a photo shoot for her fashion collection. I was stunned and could only mutter "Excusez-moi!"
Have a wonderful trip!
slf
Popping back to say that I have never even read the words "Kim Raver" or "KST" before and don't have the foggiest who they are. So they are safe from my recognition should I pass them in the street 🙂
That food looks wonderful. Planning and remembering really do expand the pleasures of travel, don't they. You always find the most interesting things to see!
Thanks, A. And not silly at all, I find the emotional toll of some exhibitions can require a retreat to the cafeteria for a cup of tea and a think before I go back for a second look. . . I appreciate the kind words about my scribbled sketches.
Linda B: I wish I were indefatigable, but it is true that my curiosity and engagement don't ever flag for too long, even if my physical self can't always keep up 😉 Oh, I hope you find L'Art de Perdre as compelling as I did. As for the plaques, the pragmatic reality is that a good proportion of visitors can manage to read the English, whereas not so many the French. I do understand the insistence, but I can also understand the frustration of visitors who feel shut out. On the other hand, my own comprehension is a marvellous reward for continuing to learn.. .
As for KST, I'll bet you know Kristin Scott Thomas (I've scribbled her name sideways in the margin of my brown pages above, was just saving letters by using initials only). Kim Raver is an American actress (Grey's Anatomy) who's fluent in French and German. . .
Sue Burpee: Yes, this one is a solo trip– making it because I didn't get as much time as I'd hoped for with the expat Five. Using Paris as the base ('cause AF flies direct from YVR) and train to Rome and back. A bit concerned about the strike, so cross fingers for me, please.
SLF: I hadn't realized she was in that movie and will now make a point of watching it — thank you! And wow! Ines!
Annie: Seriously? Paul and Linda? Good for you for not squealing loudly! But I'm completely with you on respectfully granting them their space/privacy. Wish I'd at least nodded to M. Hurt though. Or KST. . . Woody? pfft! My sister once, on a visit to England for a conference, extending her trip for a bit of tourism, went for a run on Solsbury Hill, loving the song and noticing she was near enough. And she claims she passed Peter Gabriel doing the same. . . .
Jen: It was very good food, and it's a marvellous building worth including in a visit to Paris. Next time you have the pleasure of planning a trip . . . 😉
Annie, what a great story about seeing Mr.and Mrs. McCartney on the street. I fairly recently saw Christopher Dean standing in front of Charing Cross looking very bored or cross or.. something. That could be because I was not paying attention to where I was going and nearly banged into him. Totally my fault. One of my favorite footballers,who now works for the BBC is a close neighbor. Always hoping to see him out and about. Wouldn't say anything. But my sweetheart is right when he says I have a slight (not slight) crush on him!
A.in London
I admire your strength! These days, I do find that my mother's old saying, "your eyes are bigger than your stomach", could be adjusted to read "your interests are stronger than your feet." It seems my plans for getting around cities are always overcome by fatigued or just plain pain, so I am all admiration for all you encompassed in your last day in Paris in June.
So hoping the strike does not impact your ability to get to Rome from Paris by train next week. Fingers crossed. Toes, too.
All your posts, including the delightful sketches, could be compiled into a book, “L’art de vivre!” You excel at living a full and creative life. Thank you for this fascinating tour of the art exhibit. Paris is very much on my mind these days and all 3 books on my bedside table have Paris in the title. I’ll certainly be looking for L’Art de Perdre” and the movie you mentioned. One of these days I may even make it back to Paris!
As for celebrity sightings, when we lived in Ottawa we often encountered politicians, but one really stands out. We had an old-fashioned bicycle horn attached to our son’s stroller and one day we were shopping in a small store and found ourselves in line behind a retired Mitchell Sharp (only a Canadian of a certain age would know who he was) He turned around with a smile and gave the horn a good squeeze, startling our son and everyone else in the small space.
Frances in Sidney
I've just realized that in your journal sketches ( with coloured pieces of paper for sketching) there is something that reminds me of Ljerka Njers monotipies and her work with photography-she is our famous artist,well known for her work in ceramics and glass ,as well as a painter -and a beautiful,charming lady as well
You've inspired me to look for watercolour pencils,as some of Christmas gifts and I've find some Faber Castell's
Have a wonderful and safe trip!
Dottoressa
I never comment but I find your blog absolutely delightful. Your enthusiasm for travel, exercise, literature, family, food, etc. never fails to inspire me. Thank you for your honest and simply amazing outlook on life! Janie
Mary: My mother said exactly the same thing! And I do experience that fatigue and have to balance the busy days with quieter ones (plus I'm a big fan of the afternoon nap, even when travelling, if possible). Keep those fingers crossed for me — I'm trying to be as "in-the-moment" and "whatever happens" about this trip into a potentially chaotic city, but I won't lie — there is some anxiety 😉
Frances: Such kind words, thank you! I certainly remember (and admired) Mitchell Sharp, and yours is a delightful anecdote.
Dottoressa: I just looked up Ljerka Njers' work–beautiful!–and I must say the comparison is very flattering, although not deserved. Thank you! Those watercolour pencils will make a great gift — I have Faber Castells as well. Did you keep a set for you to play with?
Janie: Really kind of you, thank you! I'm so pleased you enjoy my posts, and so glad to know you're out there — and perhaps might even comment again some day 😉