A ‘Place’ of my own

Place des Vosges

Figure 1. Food Lover’s Guide to Paris, Patricia Wells

Today I am taking you to one of the most charming squares in all the world. Not hyperbole. When I first started visiting Paris regularly, I could do so confidently because I had found Patricia Wells’ Food Lovers Guide To Paris. (Figure 1) In it, the mysteries of French food were revealed, in a particularly exemplary fashion. Especially when it came to truffles (the black ones from the earth not the brown ones from the chocolatier) and foie gras - entier, en bloc, truffé, duck, goose - which was particularly useful since at the same time we were exploring Paris, we were buying a little piece of la France profonde, a 17th century pigeonnier in the Dordogne where truffles are plentiful and people eat everything but the quack of a duck.

Figure 2. Ma Bourgogne, Place des Vosges, Paris

As I wandered around Paris, clutching that first edition of Patricia Wells book, I was mesmerized by the cover (front or back, I can’t remember which and maddeningly, I can’t find it online) on which two lovely young girls sit on the terrace of Ma Bourgogne, two glasses of white wine on the tiny table in front of them, at least one girl nonchalantly holding a cigarette. And that restaurant, Ma Bourgogne, (Figure 2) just happens to be an important landmark of where we are going to be spending our time together today.

I should mention before proceeding that for the first 10 years of our lives together, my husband and I were confirmed Italophiles. Once, to get out of our rut, we went to Spain. But we moaned the whole time that while Barcelona was great, Madrid was no Rome. Even living in Australia during the 1980s, we spent most of our vacations in Tuscany or the Veneto, although once I insisted on going to Sicily since I was teaching Byzantine art and I had to get to Cefalu to see the mosaics (as one does). I had a tiny baby at the time and I can’t tell you how many well-meaning elderly gentlemen approached me at one or another gelateria in Palermo to warn me off cafe gelato, wouldn’t be good for my milk. It surely does take a village to raise a child.

Before you ask, yes I know we were living in the South Pacific and of course we got to Bali, Fiji, and Hong Kong; New Zealand, Singapore and Thailand, but it wasn’t until John and Ellen wrote, after they returned to New York, telling us about the Dordogne, that we decided, for our return trip to San Francisco, we would follow our two weeks in Rome and two weeks at a Tuscan farmhouse with two weeks in the Dordogne, followed by a final two weeks in Paris. Why not, we reasoned, neither of us had jobs waiting for us in the States and rushing back to an uncertain future seemed a lot less fun than wandering around Europe for a couple months.

A big hurdle for changing our focus to France was food. We knew how to eat and cook Italian, thanks to Marcella Hazan. But we hadn’t yet come across the divine Jacques Pepin. So, we felt intimidated and insecure. Patricia Wells book solved that problem because, as the publicity notes modestly note, it really is "the book that cracks the code” to Paris. And to the rest of France, too. That photo of those two young women, on the cover of that guide, somehow just summed it all up for me. The good life in Paris was to be found right there, on the terrace of that restaurant, in the Marais, at the Place des Vosges. (Figure 3)

Figure 3. Place des Vosges, Ginevra Held, 2018

For all the years we stopped in Paris, either on our way down to or up from our home in the Dordogne, we mostly stayed in the 6eme, and the Luxembourg Gardens was our neighborhood park, where our young son could run and we could relax. The Marais was an exotic treat where we came to buy our falafels and the Place des Vosges was a welcome oasis where we could eat those falafels in peace. And I would walk by Ma Bourgogne and dream about a time, when, less encumbered by children, I would sit on an impossibly tiny chair at an impossibly tiny table on the grand terrace of that iconic restaurant, with an enormous glass of wine in my hand, (pass on the cigarettes). Of course, the spot hasn’t always been a perfectly located restaurant; when Simenon’s Maigret frequented the Place, it was a simple tabac.

To get to the Place des Vosges from where I live now, I walk along rue du Chemin Vert, cross Boulevard Beaumarchais and turn right onto rue Pas de la Mule which becomes the Pavilion de la Reine side of the Place. (Figure 4) When you get to the end of the Pavilion de la Reine, you will arrive at Ma Bourgogne on the left. The Pavilion then becomes rue Franc Bourgeois, one of the great shopping streets in the Marais. Going to the Place des Vosges still seems like a special treat, even though I can and do go almost daily. For awhile I had reason to meet people with some frequency at Ma Bourgogne (don’t ask). I may not be as young as those girls on the cover of Patricia Wells’ book, but I am living my best life now, here in Paris. And yep, it includes drinks on the terrace of Ma Bourgogne

Figure 4. Pavilion de la Reine, Place des Vosges, Ginevra Held 2018

Is there a museum angle, I hear you asking. Of course there is, and a gallery angle, too. Let’s start with the museum angle. The Marais is home to the Musée Carnavalet, the museum of the City of Paris (which should open any time now. I follow its progress daily, I’m not sure about the interior but the entrance gate sparkles and the front garden is landscaped), Le Centre Pompidou (which is closing soon for a few years of renovations and where a grand exhibition on Matisse opened and closed a week later, thank you pandemic) and the Musée Picasso. And then there is the Musée Cognaq-Jay (18thc French art collection donated by the founders of La Samarataine) and the Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judiasme (which wants to be called mahJ - and why not, I say). When this COVID crisis is over, I am going to have, within a few blocks of my apartment, an embarrassment of museum riches to visit and write about.

Figure 5. Maison Victor Hugo, #6 Place des Vosges

Right on the Place des Vosges is the Musée Victor Hugo, (Figure 5) which, like the Carnavalet is currently closed, but which promises to open, eventually. I go there often. At first, like everyone else, I went because I wanted to see an apartment in the Place. And then of course, once there, it is easy to poke through the memorabilia of the life and career of the author of The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miserables.

What keeps me going back though is the temporary exhibitions. In the spring of 2018, for example, my daughter and I saw an exhibition on Babette’s Feast, which I am sure you will remember is a short story written by Karen Blixen, aka Isak Dinesen, you know, the heroine of Out of Africa. Both of which were made into gorgeous films. The exhibition explored links between Hugo’s life and Babette’s, the woman who fled Paris to live amongst the dour residents of Jutland, Denmark and who spent all of her lottery prize on ingredients for a fine French meal she prepared for them. As the exhibition curators note, the links between Hugo and Dinesen’s heroine are “built like a game of dominoes where each theme calls for another, and where history, literature and gastronomy, real and literary characters intermingle.”

Later that same year, there was an exhibition on Spanish folk costume and their influence on Spain’s great couturier, Christóbal Balenciaga. Hugo’s link with this exhibition was obvious, too. He grew up in Madrid, speaking Spanish.

With museums and restaurants around the Place closed, why does the Place des Vosges still beckon? Two reasons - the space itself, bien sûr, and the many galleries located mostly on the Pavilion de la Reine side of the Place des Vosges, ‘my’ side of the Place.

Before I tell you about the galleries, let me tell you a bit about the Place itself. (Figure 6) It was built in the early 17th century on the site of the medieval royal residence, the ‘Hôtel de Tournelles. But that was where Henri II died at age 40, after he was accidentally wounded during a tournament. You remember Henri II, right? Husband of Catherine de Medici, paramour of Diane de Poitier who was only 20 years his senior. After his death, Catherine had the Hôtel de Tournelles demolished and she moved her family to the Louvre.

Figure 7. Statue of Louis XIII, Place Royale, being destroyed, French Revolution

The Place des Vosges, originally Place Royale, was begun in 1605 under the direction of Henri IV. Unfortunately, he was assassinated before the Place was completed, so his 11 year old son, who later became Louis XIII, presided over its opening in 1612. Seven years later, Cardinal Richelieu had a bronze statue of Louis XIII erected in the center of the square. That statue was destroyed and melted down during the Revolution. (Figure 7) The statue that presides over the Place now, is a copy that dates from 1825. The Place Royale became Place de l’Indivisibilité during the Revolution. In 1800. Napoleon gave it its presents name in honor of the Département des Vosges, the first department to pay its taxes in support of the army.

Figure 9. Bedford Square, Bloomsbury, London, 1785

Heralded as the first evidence of royal city planning anywhere in Europe, I see echoes of medieval bastides, (Figure 8) erected by both the the English and French during the 100 Years War. Bastides have houses of mostly the same height and width, all around, fronted by arched arcades. But bastides were modest affairs, each built independently, where workers lived, nothing grand and glorious. I’m also reminded of the quintessentially English square, which the Place des Vosges prefigures by 150 years, like Bedford Square and Russell Square where uniform size dwellings line all four sides of a central garden. Some of those gardens have been liberated, like Russell Square. Others, like Bedford Square (Figure 9) are off limits to all but key holders. The London squares may be the property of nobility but they were not built by a monarch and so while grand, they are still more modest than the Place des Vosges.

Figure 10. Balloon Puppy, Joe Suzuki, 2020

Figure 11. Marina DH, ArtSymbol Gallery, Place des Vosges, Paris

Oh right, the galleries. Along ‘my’ side of the Place, there are 10 galleries! All of them focus on modern and contemporary art. Old stalwarts like Andy Warhol and Jeff Koons are here. As are a dizzying array of ‘riffs’ on Jeff Koons balloon animals. I like the idea of the master of taking stuff from other artists having stuff taken from him - aka Jeff Koons.(Figure 10) There is one artist whose paintings change as you walk by. For example, from one angle you see multiple small Andy Warhol Marilyn Monroes. As you continue to walk by, those images finally metamorphose into a single large smiling Marilyn. This artist also does cityscapes, of Venice and Tuscan hill-towns, which change as you walk by. You probably have seen this artist’s work, I recognized it from a gallery in Union Square in San Francisco. Another gallery has a wall of street traffic signs or anyhow canvases shaped like Yield and Stop signs, on which there is visual and written social commentary. (Figure 11) The gallery has also just installed a display of huge locks which have LOVE carved out of them. (Figure 12) They reference, on a huge scale, those locks that lovers have been putting on bridges in Paris and elsewhere, which in the aggregate are so heavy that they strain the bridges. City employees walk around with the same bolt cutters that the thieves who stole my son’s bike use.

Figure 12 Stephan Chinikov, Pop Love Gold, ArtSymbol Gallery, Place des Vosges, Paris

My favorite gallery is called NextStreet Gallery. It has been around since the turn of the century, already more than 20 years. (Figure 13) Here are a few of the artists represented by this gallery.

Figure 13. Right outside NextStreet Gallery, Place des Vosges, Paris

Figure 14. Water Bags, Dylan Martinez, NextStreet Gallery, Place des Vosges, Paris

Figure 15. 17th century Dutch Still Life with clear wine glasses

Figure 16. Charles Willson Peale, Staircase Group,1795

Dylan Martinez is a glass artist who makes transparent containers that seem to be filled with water (maybe they are). (Figure 14) The containers look like plastic bags that sag with the weight of the water (which may not be in them). Trompe l’oeil (trick the eye) has always appealed to me. It is a fine and noble tradition. In fact, there is no higher praise than that which was given a painting (now lost of course) from ancient Greece. The painting of fruit, we are told, looked so real, that birds pecked at it. Seventeenth century still life painters demonstrated their mastery of the medium with depictions of crystal water or wineglasses filled with clear liquid. (Figure 15) The American artist Charles Willson Peale painted a portrait of his sons Raphaelle and Titian Peale on a staircase, with a step in front and a doorframe as frame. Rembrandt Peale, another son wrote that the portrait was so life-like that when George Washington walked into the studio, he tipped his hat to the the two young men. (Figure 16)

Figure 17. Andrea Lolis, Trash Bags, marble, British School in Athens, 2018

A couple of years ago, I was in Athens with my kids. We went to see an art installation which had been created by Andrea Lolis under the auspices of Neon, an arts group whose mission is to bring contemporary art out of the galleries and into public and private places to attract a wider audience. The exhibition we saw was at the British School in Athens. Handed a map, we searched for sculptures hidden in plain view. They turned out to be heavy duty trash bags, cardboard crates and stacks of wooden planks. (Figure 17) While they looked like those things, they weren’t those things at all. In a city filled with noble marble columns, the sculptor, Andrea Lolis chose marble as his material to immortalize throw-away items in our disposable world.

Figure 18. Etel Adnan, Carrara Marble, acrylic pigment, 1997, GalleriaContinua, Marais, Paris

Just last week, at GalleriaContinua, we saw a piece that fit into Erin’s category ‘I could have done that’. But what appeared to be childish drawings or maybe doodling on computer packaging was actually acrylic paint on marble. (Figure 18) All of these works challenge our expectations and question our perceptions. Of course Marcel Duchamp’s only addition to the urinal he hung on the wall (albeit non-functionally) and called art, was a signature and not even his own. (Figure 19) Ah Dada!

Figure 19. Fountain, R Mutt, Marcel Duchamp, 1917

Figure 21. Swoon, Fluctuart, Paris, 2017

One of the street artists represented by NextStreet is Swoon, an American artist who I first came across at her solo exhibition at Fluctuart, the street art museum on a boat, in the Seine which Terrance and I visited a very long time ago. Although Swoon is a classically trained artist, she wanted to make her work accessible to a non-gallery going public. Where JR uses photocopies, Swoon uses wheat paste to mount paper portraits on the sides of buildings. (Figure 20) Her site-specific exhibitions explore the power of art to respond to crises caused by natural disasters and man-made violence. (Figure 21) Like JR, Swoon’s public art focuses on the potential for art to heal communities in crisis. And she is one of the first women street artists to gain international recognition.

Figure 22. Pimax. NourNourf spray can, NextStreet Gallery, Place des Vosges, Paris

Another street artist represented by the gallery is Pimax, who I confused with Pemex when I spoke with my son. Best to avoid that mistake if you have a graffiti writing son. Pimax’s work can be identified by his signature little red dog, NourfNourf, who is meant to be an allegory of the man who lives, as we do, in a gray and concrete world. To free himself, NourfNourf lives an ideal world, a coded tribute to the Impressionists. Blue is for the sky, green is for grass, red is for poppies, yellow is for the sun and black is for Van Gogh crows. NourfNourf’s accessories are those of the contemporary scene, like skateboards and aerosol paint cans. (Figure 22) Pimax is also a sculptor. His sculptures are riffs on Andy Warhol, for example, his Campbell Soup cans. (Figure 23)

Figure 23, Pimax, Campbell Soup Can, NextStreet Gallery, Place des Vosges, 2019

Figure 24. In Love, NextStreet Gallery, Place des Vosges and everywhere in Paris

Here is one final street artist represented by this gallery, called, In Love. (Figure 24) He began innocently enough, declaring his love to the woman he loves, beginning in 2017. At first he wrote simple sentences in black. Then he began embellishing the sentences with red hearts. Then he added black tendrils and vines. In Love is no Banksy, no JR. no Swoon. His hearts and tendrils are all over Paris. I always smile when I see them. They are sweet and joyful.

I will tell you about one more thing before I let you go for this week. Diagonally across from where I enter the Place on the side of the Pavilion de la Reine is a small, very discrete door. Open it and you are in the garden of the glorious Hotel de Sully. (Figure 25) This is a not so secret door, but when you open it and walk through it, you will feel as if you really belong in Paris and you do. Come back soon!!!

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