Of Paris, the art!

Growing up Vietnamese, I have always been somewhat surrounded by a very French-influenced culture due to the fact that France occupied Vietnam for more than 60 years. A good amount of Vietnamese cuisine stems from France (such as bành xèo, a Vietnamese version of a French crepe) and after the Vietnam War, France was one of the most common countries of refuge for Vietnamese.

As a result, I have grown up with an appreciation for French culture, music, and art (made all the more potent by my father, who can speak a bit of French, and "Paris by Night," a Vietnamese variety show that was a family tradition). I grew up associating France, particularly Paris, with guitars, sunshine, the "Mona Lisa," and the Tour Eiffel. Entering college, that appreciation for the city became more fervent as I learned more about French history and art via my modern art classes. I do not consider myself a French aficionado by any means, but Paris has always been that hazy dream that was always waiting to come true.

Which is no great surprise that upon entering the city of lights, this song by a Vietnamese composer, Ngô Thụy Miên, entered my head.

"Paris có gì lạ không em?
Mai anh về giữa bến sông Seine
Anh về giữa một giòng sông trắng
Là áo sương mù hay áo em?"

Translation:
Is there anything strange about Paris, my dear?
Tomorrow I will come home through the Seine
I will come home on a white river
Will I see the white fog or your white dress?

For me, Paris is music, made all the more prominent by the amount of art and culture within the city. That is why I want to dedicate a separate post to all that makes Paris wonderful in my eyes, which is predominantly its art and, in the next post, its cuisine.

Monday, after spending a night with the Eiffel Tower, we went to the Louvre (also known as the home of infamous "Mona Lisa").

What I did not know about the Louvre was that, beside its gargantuan size which is never fully seen in movies or photographs, it used to be a palace. It was the home of the French monarchy up to Louis XIV, who decided to move to the more ornate Versailles Palace and left his collection of artwork at the Louvre. To my greatest surprise, there was indeed the foundations of the medieval Louvre Palace beneath the ground floor of the museum.

In my own incredulous words, "There's a castle in the basement?"

It would take years to really ponder every artifact within the Louvre, my travel mates and I did it in 4 hours. Yet, it was every art lover's dream with its long rows of images and artifacts. Each room is sumptuously decorated to fit the relics within it, the Grecian wing was decorate in the simple, Classical style while the more ornate French section was painted in grand, Rococo-esque (flowery and slightly over-the-top) fashion. It was almost as if the building itself was a work of art.

The French furniture room

It was also very easy to get lost in it, especially since stairways to the lobby were few and fair in between, causing you to walk down to the end of the long hallways if you wanted to exit (though I did wander into the Babylonian section of the museum by mistake, which ended up being a beautiful sight).

I spent about 3 of the 4 hours with some of the most famous artworks within human history, such as:

Jacques-Louis David's The Coronation of Napoleon

I'm the little magenta speck

The Venus di Milo


and, of course, Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa," which amazed me with its size. How can something so small be so influential? I will never know, considering that the barrier around it was so wide, I couldn't get a close glimpse.


Then, on Wednesday, while my travel mates wandered around in the Parisian Catacombs, I decided to take full advantage of the famous art collections of Paris and go to another museum, which was closer to my heart. It is the Musee de Orsay, the Orsay Museum, and it houses modern art, dating from the 1800's to the mid 1900's. Built in an old train station, it had the most extensive collection of Realist and Impressionist art I have ever seen, even surpassing MOMA in New York, which is no surprise since most 19th century art came from Paris.

There, I spent 3 hours soaking in as much Millet, Manet, Courbet, Monet, and Renoir as I could and wishing I brought my sketchbook. In real life, the colors are so much more vivid than they are when you view them online or in reproductions. The peaceful and tranquil scenes they painted, filled with color and life, just seemed to brighten up the room. The best way to view the Monet portion of the museum (which were scattered on the ground and first floor due to chronology) is to just sit before them and let the colors soak through you.

C'est magnifique! This is one of my favorite paintings in the museum.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and at the end of that day, I had to head back to England. Yet, I feel like I still haven't completely woken up from the dream of Paris, I still recall the rooms and the feeling of awe at finally seeing Manet's "Olympia" in the flesh (no pun intended). What I wouldn't give to go back and learn from the masters...

I can only hope that one day, I'll be able to go back with my sketchbook in tow and draw to my heart's content. Ah well, c'est la vie...

P.S. And since we are on the subject of artwork, I would just like to take a moment to plead with anyone who ever goes to museums to turn off your flash when you are taking the picture. I saw an endless number of people snapping pictures of the Mona Lisa and her companions using a flash, which angered me to no ends. Not only do you not get a good picture from it since it overly intensifies the color, you also ruin the paintings/sculptures. The heat in the flash breaks down the color pigmants and the material of the paintings. So unless you dont want the famous "Mona Lisa" or "Olympia" to be available to your great-grandchildren and their offsprings, turn off your flash. I am going to get off my soapbox now.