Eiffel Tower

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Terry and I eventually make it to see the Eiffel Tower. We had seen it in the distance from the other side of Paris from the Pantheon. The whole tower lights up with blinking flash bulbs. We decided to go to the tower at sunset to catch the light show. Neither of us wanted to to go to the top of the tower. Large crowds stood in line at the base of the tower to get in the elevators that go up into the lattice work. The structure was named after the engineer Gustave Eiffel, whose company designed and built the tower. Erected in 1889 as the entrance arch to the 1889 World’s Fair, it has become both a global cultural icon of France and one of the most recognizable structures in the world.

Police were walking along the hedges keeping an eye open for abandoned packages. In the park across the street vendors hawked metal models of the tower hanging from metal rings. I never actually saw anyone buy one of these tourist trinkets, but there were dozens of these vendors aggressively selling their wares. As the sun set, the tower caught the warm orange light as the park turned blue in the shadows.

There must be billions of cell phone photos of the tower. Tourists stood and sat on the stone steps taking pictures of their loved ones with the tower in the background. The steps grew cold as it got darker and we bundled up. Once the sky was dark enough, the tower finally flickered on. The crowd murmured. Terry scrambled to find her cell phone to take a picture. The last time she saw the tower she didn’t have enough  time to take a photo. The blinking light show only lasts for ten minutes every hour to save energy.  

When it was built, not everyone liked the tower. A committee of 300, one member for each meter of the towers height, wrote, “We, writers, painters, sculptors, architects and passionate devotees of
the hitherto untouched beauty of Paris, protest with all our strength,
with all our indignation in the name of slighted French taste, against
the erection…of this useless and monstrous Eiffel Tower … To bring our
arguments home, imagine for a moment a giddy, ridiculous tower
dominating Paris like a gigantic black smokestack, crushing under its
barbaric bulk Notre Dame, the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Louvre, the Dome of les Invalides, the Arc de Triomphe,
all of our humiliated monuments will disappear in this ghastly dream.
And for twenty years … we shall see stretching like a blot of ink the
hateful shadow of the hateful column of bolted sheet metal”

Upon the German occupation of Paris in 1940, the lift cables were cut by the French so that Adolf Hitler would have to climb the steps to the summit. The parts to repair them were allegedly impossible to obtain because of the war. When visiting Paris, Hitler chose to stay on the ground. It was said
that Hitler conquered France, but did not conquer the Eiffel Tower. A
Frenchman scaled the tower during the German occupation to hang the French flag. French hearts in time warmed to the landmark.

Notre Dame Cathedral

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The Pont de l’Archevêché bridge over the Seine had thousands of small padlocks, locked onto the iron grating. They sparkled, golden and silver in the sun like so many jewels. Known as Love Locks, the trend took off more than three years ago, thousands of padlocks have been locked to the bridge by lovers looking to symbolize their endless passion. A Paris municipal authority announced that the locks were becoming an eyesore. He further added that the practice “posed the
question of preserving heritage, and that in time the padlocks would
have to be removed”. In May of 2010 all but a handful of the padlocks
vanished overnight from the bridge. All eyes turned to the Mayor’s office, but he denied authorizing the removal. Some suggested the locks were removed during the night to avoid negative
publicity, others speculated that it was the work of scrap metal
thieves. But as soon as they were removed, shiny new locks started to
reappear. I wasn’t about to try and sketch thousands of padlocks, but I felt I had to sketch Notre Dame.

I escaped the crowd on the bridge by walking down the stone steps to the Quai. I set up my artist stool against a tall tree and started to sketch. There was an artist doing an oil painting less than fifty yards away. Restaurant barges dock here and tourists were filing in for lunch. It was rather quiet and peaceful down on the Quai whereas the bridges and the island Notre Dame sat on were a constant mob scene. A group of tourists gathered at the water taxi stop. The trees were turning orange with the first fall chills. I seldom sketch outside in Orlando since is is always so darn hot.  Thus it was a real pleasure to relax in the shade to sketch hundreds of years of Gothic architectural history.

Terry and I did go inside Notre Dame and the Rose windows were gorgeous. The shear scale of the space is humbling. An angry french woman shouted at the tourists in the square in front of the cathedral. In the evening, roller bladers, musicians and performers of all kinds converge on the square to seek tips from tourists. The Île de la Cité on which Notre Dame was built is the true heart and center of Paris.

Musee d’Orsay

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The first museum Terry and I went to in Paris was the Musee d’Orsay. Once a railroad station, the museum now houses an amazing art collection. We were expecting long lines but the line into the museum was surprisingly short. A security guard didn’t like the looks of my portable artist stool however and I had to check it. We climbed immediately to the top floor where I started quickly surveying the paintings. I checked myself when I realized Terry was several rooms behind. There were rooms full of Corbet paintings, endless impressionistic landscapes and a fabulous collection of sculptures. The top floor windows opened up to a beautiful vista overlooking the Seine River as a statue stood vigilantly at the precipice. It was in this museum where the fantastic Honore Daumier sculpted busts of politicians was on exhibition. My only regret is that we somehow missed seeing a Vermeer painting.

Museum burn set in after we hit every floor. The museum is compact enough where you can see the whole collection in one day. It felt good to be back outside. Terry introduced me to a Parisian delicacy, the Croque-monsieur at cafe across the street from the museum. A Croque-monsieur is a delicious grilled ham and cheese sandwich. It is much better than any American made grilled cheese and it became a regular part of my diet in Paris. We sat on a stone wall and I did a quick sketch of these sculpture. Artists who did the sculptures were, Mathum Moreau, Aime Millet, Eugene Molie, Eugene Deplaplanche, and Alexandre Falguiere. I’m always annoyed that the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC has bare cinder blocks decorating the entry columns of the museum. Why on earth don’t they commission an artist to do classical sculptures like these?

Louvre

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The Louvre in Paris is a museum which definitely can not be seen in one day. Vast halls of sculpture and paintings go on and on in this huge palace. It was funny to see the crowds swarm towards the Mona Lisa painted by Leonardo da Vinci. The portrait appeared postage stamp sized when viewed from the middle of the room. Mona Lisa smiled at the endless crowd of tourists who crushed up to shoot photos on their cell phones. Many couldn’t get close enough, so they raised the cameras up over their heads to get a clear shot. Her image echoed across every view screen. One tourist decided to shoot a black and white sign with Mona Lisa’s likeness that pointed towards the room. In the hallway outside there were several more paintings by da Vinci, but they went largely ignored. One woman almost sat in the lap of a statue’s lap when she wanted to rest. Security guards quickly asked her to move.

Terry and I put in a marathon effort, seeing as much art as we could in one day. Terry wanted to see the Napoleonic Apartments which I thought would be a bore, but I was well impressed by the lavish, excessive opulence.  I’m amazed the rooms survived the French Revolution. I didn’t sketch until we left the museum. Seeing so much art left me itching to draw. I immediately sat down opposite this Louis XlV statue as the sun set. I should have thought twice because half way into the sketch, the sun burst out from behind the clouds blinding me as I stared straight at it.  In another way it was a blessing because it forced me to only see bold simple silhouettes. Artists seem able to work in absolute anonymity in Paris. I was surrounded once by a Japanese tourist group. I didn’t understand a thing they said but I have to assume that the chatter was positive. Terry and I went out for a magnificent diner that night, I believe at Un P’tit Coin Du Cuisine. The fine dining and wine helped us recoup from our museum burn.

Basilique du Sacre Coeur

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Terry and I took the Metro to the Paris hillside neighborhood of Montmartre. This area has been known to be a sanctuary for artists through the years. When we walked up the staircase of the metro we were surprised to find ourselves in a seedier part of Paris. A Policeman on a bicycle saw us trying to get our bearings and he directed us to a staircase that climbed up the hill. He warned us about pickpockets and sent us on our way.

The staircase went up forever. Several tourists were lugging their luggage up to try and find a bed and breakfast entrance half way up. They were still searching as we passed them. We were completely winded when we got to the top, but this was our view of the Basilique du Sacre Coeur once we reached the top. Terry wanted to explore the inside of the Cathedral so I walked her up the last set of steps to the entrance and then I returned to this spot to sketch. A woman sat half wan up the steps begging for change. Another woman sat at the entrance to the cathedral begging. She looked just like the woman I saw begging at another church and I wondered if she was following us.

The spot where I sat was surprisingly peaceful. About 100 yards to my left, street performers, and musicians were doing their acts for a large crowd of tourists. Terry was annoyed that the musicians didn’t have much talent. It was a zoo. From right in front of the cathedral we had a view over all of Paris. Wandering the side streets we found a boat load of artists selling their pallet knife paintings of Paris. We found the art studio where Pablo Picasso first started painting his cubist paintings. Then we relaxed in a cafe as it started to rain.

The Pantheon

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For much of our time in Paris, we stayed at the Hotel Pantheon which aptly is right across the street from the Pantheon. Most every hotel in Paris was booked up so, later in the week we had to change hotels. We must have been spoiled by our spacious room at Hotel Pantheon. The second hotel we stayed at was modern but small. The bathroom was so small that I needed to open the door in order to lean over and brush my teeth using the dentist size sink.

Being near the Pantheon meant it was a little easier to navigate our way back in the evening. The dome was illuminated and could be seen from many blocks away. One evening as we stood in Place du Pantheon, we looked west and could see the Eiffel Tower illuminated far off in the distance. It began to sparkle with thousands of lights flashing. Terry struggled to find her camera and just as she was ready to shoot, the sparkling stopped. Apparently this light show only happens for a few minutes every hour.

 The Pantheon (from Greek Pantheon, meaning “Every god”) was originally built as a church
dedicated to St. Genevieve, but after many changes now functions as a
secular mausoleum containing the remains of distinguished French
citizens. It is an early example of neoclassicism, with a facade modeled
on the Pantheon in Rome.

The neighborhood around the Pantheon is bustling with young college students going and coming from classed. I saw a sign that pointed towards an animation academy, so we might have been near Gobelins which is probably the best animation school in the world.  The Paris government helps subsidize Gobelins which guarantees the city’s prominence in producing talented animators.

Church of Saint Paul – Saint Louis

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Terry was using a Foders map to navigate various walking routes through the city. The map of Paris never seemed to show the name of the street we were on. I was almost bowled over by a baby carriage and an elderly lady as I searched for my bearings. We were walking on Rue Saint Antoine when we happened across this church which I recognized from Ronald Searle‘s sketch from 60 plus years before. I pulled his Paris Sketchbook out of my art supply bag and I searched for the exact spot he had sketched from. It was exciting when every line and angle matched up. In his day this was a working class neighborhood with vendors pushcarts and shops. Today the neighborhood has been gentrified with upper class fashion and jewelry shops along with some smaller bodegas.

As I sketched, an elderly man in ragged clothes and a boy stood in front of me speaking in French. I didn’t understand a word, so I shrugged my shoulders and kept sketching.  They persisted and the man pointed at the pens clipped in my bag. I decided to give him one of the dried up pens and satisfied, they walked away. If I knew some French I could have asked them to pose. Like everyone else, they seemed in a hurry. It was threatening to rain and there was a light drizzle, but not enough to stop me. Victor Hugo had his first child christened in this church. Everywhere we went, we seemed to be walking in Victor Hugo’s footsteps.

Daumier Studio

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Ile Saint Louis, a small island in the Seine River, is the geographic and historical heart of Paris. To help in my exploration of Paris, I consulted a Paris Sketchbook, illustrated by Ronald Searle and written by his wife Kaye Webb. My Paris map had a series of stickers marking the spots where Searle had sketched. This quiet Parisian street, Ouai d’Anjou was my first stop. The green door, number 9, was once the entry to the home and studio of one of my favorite artists, Honore Daumier. A small plaque next to the entry commemorated the spot. His loose spontaneous sketches of politicians and Parisian life are stunning, satirical and still relevant today.  At the Musee d’Orsay, I had seen some wonderful sculptures Daumier did of politicians busts.  They were exaggerated and lively. Of all the art I saw in Paris, I believe those busts were my favorite. I sat very close to where Ronald must have sat when he did his sketch. He didn’t sketch any cars which made his sketch rather timeless so I also ignored the automotive clutter. Ronald had added architectural details like extra chimneys to his sketch and I began to understand what he found appealing and lively in the scene. Over 60 years had passed, but I was learning from a master.

School children hurried home along the cobbled walkway. An elderly man was out for his afternoon stroll. While the rest of Paris rushed and hurried, this little island seemed serine, except for the tourists looking for Notre Dame. Life ebbed and flowed along with the river current, much as it had hundreds of years ago.  Terry had wandered off to explore the rest of the island and to walk among all the shops. She got a little lost trying to find her way back to this spot. I was so lost in the sketch and the moment that I didn’t notice the time fly by. We went to a bustling cafe and then continued to explore.

Paris Pickpockets

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Walking along the Seine River in Paris, a woman leaned down
in front of Terry and she picked up a big gold wedding ring. She offered it to
me, not knowing what to do with it. We had been warned about pickpockets so I
kept my hand in my pocket on my wallet. I checked for an engraving and handed
it back.  I told her she was a lucky
lady. A half hour later a man pulled the same stunt. I watched him lean down
with the ring in his hand which he pretended to pick up. He moved with slow
deliberateness and he could have won an Oscar for his performance of concern.
This time we moved away quickly.  I was
curious to find out the next step in the ruse. I think the idea was to get in a
heated discussion about the ring and then a second person would approach from
behind to pick the rubes pocket. Terry figured the stunt was an attempt to get
people to offer money for the ring. The ring looked like gold to me however. We
joked about walking along the Seine again to collect more rings.

The Metros in Paris are clean and run like clockwork.
Pressing into a crowded car, I again had my hand in my pocket covering the
wallet. My art supply bag was on my chest and the artist stool acted as a nice
lock to keep hands off my paints and sketch pad. Some guy dropped his keys as
he was supposed to be getting out. I ignored the keys stepping around him. He
grabbed the inside of my calf firmly but as I moved around a central support pole,
 the back of his arm got pushed up
against the pole and his arm might have broken if he didn’t let go. I figure
there must have been someone behind me as that guy’s keys distracted me. Luckily
my back pockets were empty. Then again the guy might have just wanted to check
out my calves. For the rest of my time in Paris, if I saw someone drop
anything, I felt the urge to push them over.

Grand Palais Paris

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The twelve hours of flying over the Atlantic was tough. I didn’t manage to get any sleep while Terry slept the whole way. Walking the streets of Paris for the first time made it all worth while however. It was fashion week in Paris which meant that every supermodel in the world was there to strut the runways. We were on the lookout for famous people as we walked down Avenue Des Champs Elysees away from Arc De Triomphe. The Grand Palais is where I stopped to do my first sketch. Terry explored inside the Petit Palais behind me while I worked. She said the interiors were magnificent. It was late in the day towards disk and it was uniformly cloudy.

I assumed all the trucks parked in front of the Palais were there to set up for a fashion show, but it turned out that one art exhibit was being removed while a huge Edward Hopper exhibit was being installed in the Galeries Nationales. There were police everywhere. Hopper is one of my favorite painters and unfortunately I was here a week to soon. Paris never runs short of amazing history and lavish architecture to draw from. Terry went to Les Editeurs Cafe for an amazing meal that first night. We sat outside and enjoyed the three course pris fix meal. The waitress helped me pick out a wonderful sweet white wine to compliment my meal.