She entered the tram with an announcement, “Madames et Monsieurs …..” (the sounds of the metro departing muffled the rest). In her hand she carried a picture of a young man. She then proceeded to walk down the subway cart with her hands extended, and like speaking into the void, with murmurs of “s’il vous plaît, merci, etc.”People’s faces race to look any where but at her, let alone into her hazel eyes. They look out their subway windows at nothingness; the brick and dirt that is three stories below ground. She came to the end of the cart and sat across from me. Our eyes met for maybe three seconds, she kept the intensity and I looked away with a smirk that spoke “I am sorry.” Her short stature, stubby rounded fingers, and maintained vibrant red hair which barely graced her dark drench coat that met her gold painted clogs, got off at the next stop.

~ experiencing the metro in Paris

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My last week in France started in Nancy, where I had the extreme pleasure of seeing Debussy’s “L’aprés-midi d’un faune.” The whole performance was like a dream, I will save you the mushy, fanboy sentiments.

The next day I took my first BlaBlaCar with a 55 year old man from the west of France and two other travelers. The six hours car ride was full of half conversations in french and English, and a slight detour so that the driver could give me a mini tour of central Paris.  I arrived in Rouen for a friend of a friend’s house boat warming party along the Seine! The night was filled with much joviality and peaked with a African tribal folk song with drums, and intoxicated attendees shouting lyrics to American and French pop tunes.

The next day I made my trek for Paris. My friend, whos friend’s boat I was staying at in Rouen, allowed me to stay at his place in Paris with his roommate. The place was about a 30 minute walk from the city center. Here is some snapshots of the city.

One of my favorite parts of going to some of the world’s most well known museums is watching other peoples actions and reactions to famous pieces of artwork. The personalities mix and mingle in silence and noise and seemingly indifference. Some so furiously, frantically record their experience with pictures and selfies. Others nonchalant as if wondering aimlessly and surprised when they have discovered an incredible masterpiece!

 

 

L’Historie de Sciripio  is a set of 22 enormous tapestries from the Renaissance. Looking at them you feel a need to express something. To think that these were created by one great man, it makes me question what I will do with my own time. The gap between

dreams ………………………………………… reality,

artistic vision ………………………………….. fruition,

thinking …………………………………………… believing,

seems to be so large.

I find myself in the Musée du Louvre, looking at the greatest works of all time and all I can think of is things nothing to do with the art. What sort of person will I be when I return to United States? How will I act around my family or close friends? Will I be changed? Why am I not enthralled in his incredible experience? I much rather sit a cry. After over 20 hours of intense artwork watching, something cathartic seems appropriate. Something like … worship. I find the expression I need to give praise to one above my problems. Thousands of works throughout history or kept in these walls for people to flock to. But for me a heart of worship is the greatest masterpiece. Let yourself be swayed, wooed, and inspired by these great minds and unfathomable talent but know one’s own capacity, talents, and intellect so that you don’t loose yourself in the beautiful. Because this heart is fickle. Because we are too easily swayed. Because we are looking for something to follow, something to praise.

~On Seeing Jules Romain’s 22 epic tapestries “L’Historie de Scipion.”

 

One becomes lost in her gaze, transported not only to another time but state of mind. You seem to loose sense of time in that gaze

~On seeing the Mona Lisa

They believed it come to life and guarded the temples in order to judge the purity of heart of its visitors.

~Seeing the Grand Spinx

It is like staring into his mental world, it was a precious gift, like when you share an intimate, deep conversation with someone you have met for the first time and you feel really blessed to have the experience.

~ On seeing one of Van Gogh’s self portraits

A slave to our senses

but a purity of senses

A fullness of sensitivity to the senses

Which, for me, contrasts the excess, the monotonous, or the lustful

It is a full bodied engulfment in the senses:

A drink of water, a three second gaze into a Parisian, 10 1/2 hours looking at art, appreciating the curve of a jaw or a subtle wrinkle on the forehead.

The Debilitating power of beauty and its expression, its insatiable mastery, and propel towards infinity…greatness…God.

This is why humility must be a pinnacle of the artist.

….AND THAT is what I learned in Paris

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Other experience include completely nerding out at the Museum of Claude Debussy in St. Germain-en-Laye!

My friend’s roommate showed me downtown Paris and La Notre Dame de Paris and was gracious enough to take some pictures.

Á la Prochain,

DCM