paris potpourri

Bienvenue and welcome back to Musée Musings, your idiosyncratic guide to Paris and art. It has been a glorious week - maybe a few too many tour groups standing six deep on sidewalks barely able to accommodate two thin people passing each other in profile. But no complaints about the weather. Whenever the sun’s heat threatened to become too intense, a cooling breeze brought back an equilibrium.

We were at Berthillon’s Salon de Thé last Sunday, meeting up with friends visiting from New York. The tea salon is next door to the ice cream shop, which is always crowded. The tea salon is usually quiet, at least if you arrive just after it opens at 10. Ginevra, sensing that soon it would be too hot for hot chocolate, ordered exactly that. It was a do-it-yourself affair. She was presented with a platter on which sat a small pitcher of melted chocolate, another of hot milk and a generous plate of whipped cream. Oh yes, and an empty cup. She poured and stirred and sipped, repeating the ritual several times, all the while happily munching on a pain au chocolat. It reminded me of the restaurant we went nearly once a week, every summer, during Ginevra’s growing up years. The restaurant is in Monbazillac, near Bergerac, overlooking the vines. She always ordered a citron pressé. The server would bring her a small pitcher of freshly squeezed lemon juice, a larger one of cold water, a tall glass with ice cubes and a bowl filled with sugar. Like a mad scientist, Ginevra stirred and tasted and adjusted until she had the perfect glass of lemonade.

On Monday, Ginevra and I walked over to Shakespeare and Company. It was midday. There was a line of people waiting to get in. To a bookstore. A tourist destination for people I’m guessing mostly buy their books online. This Shakespeare & Company is not to be confused with the original opened in 1919 by Gertrude Stein’s friend, Sylvia Beach. Hemingway hung out there and so did F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ezra Pound and James Joyce. That one closed in 1941. It was impossible to keep an avant-garde bookstore open in Nazi occupied Paris.

The bookstore we visited was opened a decade after the first one closed, by George Whitman, an American ex-serviceman. Originally called Le Mistral, Whitman changed the name to Shakespeare and Company in 1964, in honor of both Sylvia Beach’s bookstore and the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s 400th birthday. The bookstore is on rue de la Bûcherie. A more ideal setting would be hard to find. A stone’s throw from the Seine, across from Notre Dame and the Île de la Cité. Like the first iteration of the bookstore, this one attracts bohemian writers. For Whitman, it began with writers of the Beat Generation - like Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and William S. Burroughs.

Which is why Ginevra wanted to come. To honor the first wave of writers who called Shakespeare and Company home, Ginevra bought a copy of Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast. To honor the writers who are the current focus of her attention, she bought Jack Kerouac’s On The Road. And just because it’s good to support independent bookstores, she bought Oscar Wilde’s The Portrait of Dorian Gray (he toured San Francisco in 1882 and died in Paris in 1990). If I am perfectly honest, the staff was not that knowledgeable or efficient. That might be explained by the fact that people hoping to become writers can sleep in the bookshop for free (on beds scattered amongst the stacks) in exchange for helping out around the shop.

*Just after Ginevra bought On the Road in English, we happened upon this bouquiniste, who had a copy in French! Did he mind having his photo taken, not if he could pose with Maman!*

And beyond books, bagels! A couple years ago, I got a real bagel in an unexpected place in Paris. Don’t ask for details, they escape me. I asked the wait person where the bagels were from. I went home, called the bagel shop and ordered a dozen. I remember picking them up in a strange sort of development. And then, for the life of me, I could not remember the name of the bagel shop or where it was located. But all that changed while Ginevra and I waited to get into the bookstore. Shakespeare and Company has a café. As I stood in line, I glanced over at the sign on the café door. Bagels and pastries from Bob’s Bake Shop. I recognized the name immediately. I googled the location, Halle Pajol, 12 Esplanade Nathalie Sarraute. I recognized that, too. I haven’t been yet, but the name, once again in my grasp, is a relief!

On Tuesday, Ginevra and I braved the crowds at the Musée d’Orsay to see the exhibition that’s all the rage at the moment - Manet/Degas, which opens at the Met in New York this fall. There are some interesting compares/contrasts - which is the bread and butter for art historians - as anyone who has taken an art history course knows. Some were very interesting, some seemed a bit strained.

Ginevra enthusiastically recommending the exhibition

I have always liked Manet. He married his piano teacher who was also his mistress. She was probably his father’s mistress, too. Manet was 17 when Suzanne became his piano teacher, she was 19. She was 33 when he married her. Maybe he was waiting for his father to die. Which he did in 1862, of complications from syphilis, as Edouard would 21 years later. Suzanne gave birth to a son three years after she arrived in Paris. Maybe it was Edouard Manet’s son, maybe his father was the father. One art critic suggests that the paintings which shocked Paris, were an act of rebellion against the hypocrisy of French society in general and his own family in particular. For example, Dejeuner sur l’herbe, may be autobiographical. Degas, who always seemed to find the least lovely poses for his little ballerinas, was a curmudgeon and anti-semite. The less known about him, the better, especially if one abides by the rule that one can appreciate the work of an artist without appreciating the artist.

I made an appointment to get our hair cut on Wednesday. Dreading buyer’s remorse in the form of shorn locks, we glumly took the metro to MIromesnil. But salvation was at hand! When we arrived, we were informed that the coiffeuse had called in sick. Why they didn’t call me, I don’t know - they had my number. Why I didn’t call to confirm our appointment as I always do, again I don’t know. That was close!

What else was there to do? We were in the 8eme, so the Giovanni Bellini exhibition at the Musée Jacquemart-André was an obvious choice. Since I had written about it, I was happy to see it again and share it with Ginevra. Lots of Madonna and Child paintings, for private patrons, not public churches. When you have clients who will probably never see the Madonna and Child you painted for their friends, repetition is inevitable and safe.

Thursday was a planned museum outing. This time to see the exhibition at the Musée de l’Orangerie on Matisse, one of my all time favorite painters. It showcases his work from the 1930s. He was 60, and in a creative slump. Then, all of the sudden, but mostly because Dr. Barnes of Philadelphia commissioned a huge mural, The Dance, Matisse got his groove back. The exhibition was in Philadelphia last year and travels to Nice next month. Where I hope to see it again. I will tell you all about it in detail the next time I see it. But in the meantime, a few reflections. There are lots of paintings with stripes. And while there are some spectacular choices for background walls that accent the paintings, I wish Sir Paul Smith, who did such a fabulous job at the Picasso Museum, could have performed his magic here, too. And then there were the paintings that reminded me of the fabulous exhibitions that were held last year that celebrated Yves St. Laurent. Clothes inspired by paintings like Matisse’s La Blouse Roumaine. At this exhibition, we see the progression of Matisse’s ideas with a series of paintings of women wearing that blouse.

Yves St. Laurent & Matisse Dancers, Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris

Cedric Grolet a l’Opera - our four choices

We were with our New York friends and after a wander through the Guillaume collection and an introspective moment with Monet’s spectacular Nymphéas, we decided to find a few Maillol sculptures in the Tuileries and then head over to Cedric Grolet’s patisserie at Le Meurice. Fermé! Nothing left! Undaunted, we walked over to his emporium of excess at the Opera. This time, we were in luck, I guess. The line was short and when we got into the boutique, the list of choices was shorter. Four patisseries, each for 17 euros, each a single serving. Coconut, Pistachio, Black Forest and Banana. We went with coconut. Intense. It could have used some chocolate. Afterwards, on the grass in the Place des Vosges, we reminisced about our years in Australia together. It’s nice to see old friends in new places.

Gros bisous, Dr. B.

This week, we’re going to take a look at the clothes created by the fashion designer Yves St. Laurent. And the painters whose work inspired him, among them Matisse and Monet. Mondrians and Madeleines & Mondrians and Madelines pat deux.

Thanks so much to all of you who took time to write this week, your comments are very, very much appreciated!

New comment on Boldini: Lovely article about Boldini. Your education really kicks in as you build your essay around the major players of that time -- especially Proust. I love the fin de siecle period in Paris. So much optimism and creativity before that war that never should have happened. John, Miami & Paris

New comment on May Daze: For Ginevra: Sleeping Where I Fall by Peter Coyote. Hippie /Haight experience. Excellent ! Peter is my close friend. We met in Golden Gate Park, 1968, Brian

New Comments on May Daze: Noted in the photos of your daughter that she’s a redhead….. I can remember when redheads ruled Hollywood by the likes of Susan Hayward, Maureen O’Hara, Rhonda Fleming, and Rita Hayward, and many others.Truly enjoy your Paris ramblings as they make me ‘hunger’ for a trip to Paris, Bill, Ohio

New Comments on May Daze: B - Thanks for sage advice on Metro cell thefts. ie "By which I hope to reassure my friend Kathy who needs her GPS to get around. " Kathy's advice - if you're a visitor, bring your old cell phone with you just in case...it can be activated in Paris. Kathy, Washington, D.C.

Art is Everything Everywhere All at once in Terrific Tuscany

May Daze

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