Wednesday 7 March 2007
Art ..../.... A Litany
By David Pitt, Wednesday 7 March 2007 - 20:40 :: Best
Paul Cézanne to Marc Chagall, Manet to Monet, Renoir to Rodin – perhaps you catch my drift. French art from the Louvre to the Orsay is beyond compare. The history, the production, the display – unrivalled and incomparable. Museums and galleries in every quarter of every size and type imaginable. A plethora of art and artists, a cornucopia if you will, makes the 1st, the 3rd, the 6th and the 8th arrondissements a haven and a heaven for creativity. Perhaps one of my favorite streets anywhere in the world is the tiny, narrow Rue de Seine just chock full of galleries of every color and description. Well worth finding across the river from the Louvre.
Original appearance June 10, 2005, © 2005 / CIP 035, OO 23, RD 07, YP 30/11-7
I spent the first 57 years of my life thinking that malamutes (AKA Nikita) and mongrels (AKA Koala) were man’s best friend. Koala and Nikita accompanied me through 27 years, and they were my best friends. I have spent the last 5 years rethinking that very proposition. The catalyst at first was my sweetheart – hard to think of a better best friend. Later it was due to poop on Parisian sidewalks. Paris is no place for a big dog and poop has no place in Paris. Still I miss my dogs and I love my lady. The jury is still out, but maybe that is why France had the Three Musketeers. We must be allowed three best friends, and a couple of them can be dogs.
The name commemorates some forgettable Napoleonic victory against Austria a couple of hundred years ago (1797), but don’t worry about the battlefield. Within a block of this arrow straight street are most of the sites you want to visit in Paris and there are a bunch of them. It starts at the Place de la Concorde as central to Paris as you can get without stumbling over the official center at Point Zero. On the south side of the street for forever is the Tuileries Garden and then the Louvre and just beyond them the Seine. On the north side of the street is a mile long arcaded façade which is quite pretty, but the quality of the stores and the goods within the stores is uneven at best. On the north side look just a tiny bit deeper and you are passing the Pace Vendôme, the Conseil d’Etat the Opera Garnier, and the Palais Royal. These are all imposing and impressive and well worth finding. Keep going and you will pass the Hôtel de Ville (City Hall) which is splendid and keep going further and you are in the Marais which is the real Paris of the Parisians.
He was a pedagogue, a historian and an educational reformer, but mostly he was the founder of the Modern Olympic Games. As an active sportsman himself (boxing and fencing, if memory serves) he thought sports was the “springboard for moral energy” and he emphasized the intellectual and philosophical aspects of sports. Of course, he was a Baron. Oh my, how times change. After organizing the international congress of 1894 at the Sorbonne he became the 2nd IOC President from 1896-1925. Pierre de Coubertin described the Olympics as “a quadrennial celebration of the springtime of humanity.” In 1926 he returned to his pedagogical work – his “unfinished symphony.” This man could turn a phrase. He died in 1937 and, according to his wishes, the rest of his body was buried in Lausanne, Switzerland (IOC HQ), but his heart was actually buried in ancient Olympia.
Louis Pasteur was the King of the …Ations with magnificent consequences for all of mankind. Inoculation, pasteurization, vaccination – milestones on the way to the moon and Mars. Yes, he has craters named after him on the moon and Mars as well as a street in Saigon. I mention the latter only because it was one of the few streets in Saigon not renamed after colonial times. A fitting tribute to the universality of his contributions. Thanks to him rabies and a host of other diseases are controlled. His legacy will vastly outlive the contributions of virtually all the Kings of Nations. Thank goodness for inoculation, pasteurization, vaccination and Louis Pasteur.
His legendary hit was Alexandrie Alexandra (1978). Claude François, often known as Clo-Clo, had lots of hits – 7 or 8 number 1’s, mostly adaptations of English successes which did very well at the time but had little staying power. Belles, Belles, Belles (1962) was an exception – it sold 1.7 million copies, but still was an adaptation of an Everly Brothers song. One song made it a two way street. Comme d’habitude (1967) was a song he wrote with Revaux and Thibault while trying to recover from his breakup with France Gall. It became the huge Paul Anka and Frank Sinatra hit My Way. First rock and roll then disco propelled a hectic life of ups and downs for this dapper dressing, sequined teen throb. In 1966 his ‘Les Clodettes’ pioneered as a group of female backup dancers. He had a 15-20 year career cut short in 1978 when he electrocuted himself trying to change a light bulb in the shower. Not one of his brightest ideas.
Perhaps more than any other symbol of France the Arc de Triomphe illustrates the shared relationship France has with it’s own history. Thirty years of turbulence (1806-1836) marked the building of this monument to Napoleon and national glory. Two hundred years have not clarified the contradictions, conflicts and bipolar nature of unresolved yearnings that is quintessentially France. L’Etoile, or the star is, however, very stately, august and imposing. A dozen commanding and converging avenues, mostly named after French marshals and battles, center on Place Charles de Gaulle. They form a radiating spoke from the 50m high (164ft) creation of architect Jean Chalgrin. The sculptures and relief of Rude’s ‘La Marseillaise’ and Cortot’s ‘Triumph of Napoleon’ are magnificent. Since 1921 it has also been the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Ours is not to reason why....
Coming from the mountains you can learn to take trees for granted. Move to the city and you don’t – because you miss them. Move to Paris and it is not nearly as bad. There are trees in Paris, lots of them. Everywhere. On many streets, in most squares, and in all parks. Must be a million of them in the Bois de Boulogne. Thank you Mr. Mayor, or Mr. Chirac, or Mr. Green. I may not agree with some of the positions of the Greens (it’s a fairly strong political party here), but I agree with them on this. Wholeheartedly.
The French do it. Especially with their children and even with their wives. I love it. Of course Gay Pari is the city for young lovers, and that is lovely. Of course they hold hands, but so do many others. Maybe it is just the ambiance – if you can find a hand to hold you grab it. To stroll down a crooked little rue, or promenade on the grand boulevards, it only seems natural to take your sweethearts hand and enjoy. To hold your child’s hand on the way to school not only seems prudent, but also good and right. Watching it all is a joy.