11 March 2010

Day Nine, Paris, 10 March 2010

I get up at 8:00, and get ready and go down to breakfast.  I used to like this little hotel, but something seems amiss.  The bathroom was in need of repairs, and the breakfast was a mess; and to add insult to injury, they charged a supplement for the breakfast.  Not good.  I go over to the Centre Pompidou, walking up from Chatelet.  There is a wind blowing dust off the decomposed granite that forms the parvis, so I decide not to wait at the door, but rather go to St. Merrie, right by the Stravinsky fountain.  It is closed, so I circle back and have a coffee at the Cafe Parvis.  Finally it is close enough to 11:00 to go down and wait.  I go to the door for those holding museum passes and then get to watch the battle of the bureaucrats - as only the French can wage them.  All of us with museum passes are at the wrong door, in spite of all the signage and must move.  (Sigh).

Corridor in the Centre Pompidou

I want to do two things.  I want to see the Lucien Freud exhibition, and I want to see their French Painting series.  The escalators up the tubes that run up the sides of the center are really a delight, and when you get to the top, a whole panorama of Paris opens up to you.  It was, oddly enough, rather a surprise.  So, like everyone else, I pulled out my camera and shot the rather misty scene.


Sacre Coeur from the Pompidou

I immediately have to go down to get a special ticket for the Lucien Freud Exhibition, and on the way down I see a sign, "Niveau cinq est ferme".  In other words, my goal of seeing the center's spectacular collection of contemporary French painting was not going to be realized.  This seemed to be in keeping with other developments on this trip.  Oh, well, next time.  


Lucien Freud Self Portrait

First of all it's wonderful to see so many paintings by this grandson of the founder of psychiatry gathered into one place.  I am immediately struck by the affinity these paintings have to the work by Francis Bacon.  Both seem to place their subject(s) on/in a defined space, a platform if you will.  Bacon expresses it with lines of paint, or a literal platform.  For Freud, the platform can be a chair, a bed, or a pile of rags.  In both the flesh seems almost super real, and Freud seems to use an impasto technique when dealing with the face.  In a Bacon paintings, the face is usually a smear.  Bacon paints in the motion, while Freud implies it.  One painting, Two Plants, (whose title suggests a nice quiet still life) is really two plants growing wild in his backyard (garden, would over represent the reality) which fill the canvas with form and life.  These were wonderful paintings for me.

I try out the other floors, but find it not very engaging.  I kept thinking of Serra's chunk of melted aluminum sitting in a permanent gallery at SFMOMA.  Other galleries reveal the French obsession with beauty and design in shows of everyday objects, which look like commercials for Alessi and JC Decaux.  The other stuff is all experiential and difficult to read or take in.  It's time to go.  I think about Monet at l'Orangerie, but decide against it.  It's time to go to the Louvre!


Profile of Akhetaten

I head straight for Sully and the Egyptian Collections, which have been reordered, yet again - to good effect.  (And here the British Museum, in spite of all its holdings, just fades in the comparison.)  I am again looking for Amarna artifacts and find many - all of them very engaging and lovely.  I spend a great deal of time in these galleries.  I then walk down to the Italian painting section, and on the way bump into my favorite, my icon of truth and beauty, The Nike of Samothrace.  She never fails to amaze me.


Nike of Samothrace

While I'm looking at Da Vinci paintings, I think, "What the hell, let's go see the Mona Lisa."  Interesting, now you can't get closer than 5 meters from her - and behind plexiglass too.  What a shame.  Time for lunch - and there's a lovely place in one of the Denon stairwells.  I meet some people from Greece, and we take each other's pictures.  I have a quiche and a sparkling water.


Having a serious lunch

Now I just roam.  I always like the Napoleon III Apartments, so I go there, take some time in the medieval section, especially with the treasures of Saint Denis, gathered by the formidable Abbot Suger, discover a special exhibition of sculpture from the Borghese family, and then look for some Poussin.


 
Minerva from the Borghese Collection and the Napoleon III Dining Room

All the while I'm doing this I'm attempting to find a collection of vestments worn by l'Ordre de Saint-Esprit, ordered by Henri III in 1548.  I can't find reference to the display on any of the maps, but suddenly stumble upon it late in the afternoon, saying quite loudly, "Yes!"


Vestments for the Order of the Holy Spirit

By then it's time for tea - and a raspberry clafouti, which was delicious.  By this time I'm biding my time, needing to use up time until my train leaves.  I retake some photos, which I accidentally deleted back in 2006.  I look at the Assyrian, Babylonian, and Sumerian stuff again, and try to find a Ba'al mounted on a calf or bull.  No luck.  I do find this excellent Ba'al, however.


Ba'al

I'm tired at this point and go to the Carousel, get a sparkling water and write until 7:00.  I then make my way to Gare du Nord, and get on my train, and sleep my way back to London.



  

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