Oh, so the art is over here in this direction, huh, Louvre? Thanks.
Actually, before we deal with the Louvre, I’d like to introduce you to this cheese that has been sitting tied to our window railing for the past four days:
It’s too stinky to be allowed to stay inside. Poor delicious stinky cheese.
So you go the Louvre, and you look at their little map, and you think, “Oooh…Mesopotamian shit! And yes, I think I might enjoy the large-scale French paintings, yes, quite.” But it’s like being really drunk with the dude that you know wants to do you: there’s this THING and it’s just hanging over the whole visit and until you get it out of the way you’re just THINKING about it, and you pretend you’re not; you pretend not to care, but you DO. So let’s just get this out of the way.
First, I loved this: the Louvre understands this thing that’s hanging over your head, too, and they also just want to go ahead and get it over with so that you can get on with your trip. These signs reminded me very much of the “Jim ->” grafitti from the cemetery the other day.
Aaaaaand there. I got closer, but was all jaded about it, anyway. So this is the only photo you get. I’m sure you’ve seen the fucking thing before.
The Lourve also has the Venus de Milo, same general setup and mob scene and cynicism:
My favorite part about these two things was the people getting their picture taken in FRONT of them. Why do people do that? For proof? For scale? People posing in front of the non-famous works were funny to me, too.
Seriously, though, these two pieces really did sort of just bore and annoy me. Why these two pieces? Why are they the famous ones? Is that really da Vinci’s best work? And there are plenty of beautiful Greek statues with mysterious missing bits. Winged Victory, for instance, which I also saw today, I think is far more spectacular.
(Shitty pictures – all of these are.) I dunno. I mean, of course, half of this is sarcastic – here I am, claiming that the Mona Lisa ain’t shit – but you know. Still.
Two paintings that I really did like quite a bit, both of which were new to me:
The Two Sisters (except, you know, in French, which I don’t remember what that was), by Theodore Chasseriau, and Jeune Orpheline Au Cimetiere (Ian suggests that perhaps she was hanging out at Jim Morrison’s grave), by Eugene Delacroix.
I liked this one, too, but it totally threw me. Am I wrong, or does this seem insanely modern? That block of color just kills me. This looks like a Picasso, almost. I don’t remember who this one was by, but trust me, it was firmly within the “boring old crusties” section, or in other words, “the Louvre.”
So there’s my non-cynicism out of the way for the evening. On to the snottyness! So the biggest question I have here is, why the fuck is everything in Paris so goddamned creepy??? I present for your inspection:
“Zoom! Zoom!”
Well, creepy, or else they kind of look like muppets:
This is supposed to be King Leonides at Thermopole. He keeps getting less and less naked! Perhaps in another 400 years, he’ll get a shirt.
An American walked past me while I was looking at this. He had a big professor’s beard and his wife was wearing a black beret, tilted rakishly. He commented to her, “Well, the symbolism on this one is a little juvenile.”
I love how this guy looks sort of bemused:
And again, these are horrible photos, but this is basically the fucking coolest punchbowl ever. I cannot possibly fathom why, #1, these are not still in production today, and #2, why I don’t own one:
Phew. Thassa lotta objet d’art. So let’s end on a giggle sex joke, eh? There are condom machines in the subway stations in Paris!
Apparently condoms are called “preservatifs” in French. What’s the etymology of that? What are they preserving? One’s honor? One’s childlessness?
Bon soiree!
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