游梦欧洲-巴黎
Day 1—Louvre
I had been craving for this moment for a very, very, very long time. You would have no idea of how hard I tried to control my tapping feet while waiting for the metro. Father is a painter, he taught me painting when I was a lad. Later, when I grew up, I read a lot of books on western art histroy. Though I was then quite clear about its development track and different styles along the chronological line, all I had touched were nothing but letters and, to the best, prints. Now, right under the crystal pyramid, myriads of treasures surrounded waiting for my personal exploration. Can you believe it?
Just to share with you some, actually a lot, of my favourite sculptures:
- Diane d’Anet (Diana of Anet). This marble sculpture of Diana, surrounded by her dogs and leaning against a stag, formed the upper part of a fountain in the courtyard of the chateau of Anet, which was built for the mistress of King Henri II, Diane de Poitiers. This elegant work, both sensual and cold, is typical of the art of Fontainebleau, which was greatly influenced by Italian Art.
- Milon de Crotone (Milon of Croton), by Pierre Puget. Milon was a hercules in Greek mythology. This scene depicted him being caught by a fierce lion in the right hand. Puget was the only important French sculptor who worked fully within the Baroque aesthetic. His style is well illustrated by this fiery and dramatic work. On seing it the queen cried, “Poor man, how he suffers!”
- Bather. The sculpture was such a success that it captured this gracious nymph bending over to the water when suddenly hearing somebody calling her name.
- Psyche Abandoned, by Augustin Pajou. It is interesting to mention that this sculpture once caused some scandals because the nude was considered too realistic. Her eyes looked beautifully sad, and the curvaceous body concealed under her right arm was so soft. As a normal young man, I just couldn’t help trembling in front of her.
- Psyche revived by Cupid’s kiss, by Antonio Canova. Canova was an important representative of Neoclassical sculpture who created mythological compositions with very pure lines. He also sculpted tombs in the ancient style and portraits which reflect his search for an ideal beauty.He had many disciples throughout Europe who carried his influence into the second half of 19th century.
- Diree, by Lorenzo Bartolini. She is absolutely the sexiest woman I saw in Louvre, much more sexually irritating than the Hellenistic Venus de Milo in modern standards. Maybe because she is too sexy, one museum administrator is always seated beside to warn visitors against touching it. I personally saw an Amercian young couple come by, and the man, chuckling, say to his girl, “very attractive, isn’t she?” “Yes!” Then they both stretched a hand to feel her hips. On spotting that, the administrator shouted, “no touch! No touch!”
For many others that I love by no means less, I can only show you the picture with no literal introduction here; otherwise I’m afraid I should work for too long: The Three Graces; Cupid, by Chaudet; Slave, by Michelangelo; Hermatoposis; Goddess of Victory; Apollo Killing the Serpent; and an Italian earth sculpture whose name I unfortunately forgot.
As for paintings, it was those works from Middle Age (followed by Renaissance, baroque, Netherland school, neo-classicism) to Romanticism that Louvre principally kept. They were always of a lesser interest to me than works of a later time. However, to say that is not to deny the immense sense of opulence at sight of these masterpieces:
- de Vinci: The Virgin of the Rocks (Accademia of Venice keeps a sketch of a young woman’s head by de Vinci, which bears so much resemblance to this Virgin that makes one configure up the association between them); Saint John the Baptist; Mona Lisa;
- Raphael: The Virgin and Child with Saint John the Baptist (Raphael's greatest paintings seem so effortless that one does not usually connect them with the idea of hard and relentless work. To many he is simply the painter of sweet Madonnas which have become so well known as hardly to be appreciated as paintings any more. We see cheap reproductions of these works in humble dwellings, and we are apt to conclude that paintings with such a general appeal must surely be a little 'obvious'. In fact, their apparent simplicity is the fruit of deep thought, careful planning and immense artistic wisdom. But, if we compare it with the countless representations of the same theme which preceded it, we feel that they have all been groping for the very simplicity that Raphael has attained. The way the Virgin's face is modeled and recedes into the shade, the way Raphael makes us feel the volume of the body wrapped in the freely flowing mantle, the firm and tender way in which she holds and supports the Christ Child - all this contributes to the effect of perfect poise. We feel that to change the group ever so slightly would upset the whole harmony. Yet there is nothing strained or sophisticated in the composition. It looks as if it could not be otherwise, and as if it had so existed from the beginning of time); Portrait of Baldassare Castiglione;
- Rubens: Portrait of Hélène Fourment and her Children (gazing upon this painting, I suddenly recalled another work by Rubens collected in National Gallery, London – Portrait of Susanna Fourment. Haven’t you found there is much facial resemblance between this lady and the artist’s child? Fourment was also the family name of Ruben’s wife. I was wondering at the relationship between them.)
- Rambrandt: Bathsheba; Portrait of the Artist at his Easel;
- Poussin: The Rape of the Sabine Women (It is very interesting to see the same theme drawn by Picasso in a totally different style some three hundred years later);
- David: The Oath of the Horatti, The Sabine Women, Madame Recamier, Self-Portrait and The Consecration of Napoleon I and Coronation of Coronation of the Empress Catherine (Look! The cardinals looked a bit unhappy, a bit afraid, and a bit helpless at the same time when Napolean was trying to encrown himself);
- Ingres: The Valpincon Bather, The ‘Grande Odalisque’, The Turkish Bath and Monsieur Bertin;
- Géricault: The Raft of the Medusa; The Gambling Maniac;
- Corot: Souvenir of Mortefontaine, The Woman in Blue;
- Delacroix: Women of Algiers; Liberty Leading the People (this work didn’t look beautiful at all, as I had always thought. Other than its dynamic composition, I really didn’t see any reason why so many limelights had been aimed at this work. Perhaps, political propoganda played a crucial role in it);
- Hals: The Gypsy Girl; Buffoon with a Lute;
- Rousseau: Group of Oaks at Apremont (Rousseau was not attracted to the teaching of the Academy, preferring to study the old masters and the work of his English contemporaries. In 1848 he moved to Barbizon outside Paris, where a group of artists were working in the open air. It was here that he painted this group of oak trees. He became a kind of philosophical leader of the ‘Barbizon school’, which paved the way for Impressionism.)
By giving this lengthened list, I feel like a start-up. Yes! You can call me that, as what I felt exactly myself was in the hall of Louvre. Room in front of Léonard de Vinci’s Mona Lisa was definitely the most crowded place in Louvre, which was largely owing to Chinese tourist groups. The following conversation (almost shouted) can make you understand why I always kept away from my own people:
女：“老王，老王，赶紧过来拍照！记住，要拍全啊！”
老王（横竖瞄了半天）：“哟！不行……这，这拍出来大头。”
女：“嗨呀！让你拍你就拍，这多伟大呀，能不拍嘛！你赶紧拍，多罗嗦些啥？”
Venus de Milo, Goddess of Victory and Mona Lisa are Lourvre’s three most prominent belongings. However, only the former two have been insured, while the business of Mona Lisa is beyond any insurance company’s financial strength and bravery.
Day 2
It would not take long for one to realize that the quintessence of Paris was its inside rather than outside. The government was sure to have set up strict criteria on the choice of color for a building, otherwise the whole city would not look so unanimously maize. Such kind of designing, on the one hand, could create an image of neatness; while on the other hand, it could also be a bit boring.
Notre Dame (facade and back) is maize. Except for Victor Hugo’s novel, the church is most famous for its three Gothic-characteristic rose windows of immense size; yet it might be more interesting to see a statue forming a dark profile against some other ones, praying (1, 2). Like Rome’s Santa Maria della Vittoria which is largely a display of Bernini’s works, Notre Dame is but that of Michelangelo's.
Arch of Triumph is also maize. However, the view at the top of it may be the best in Paris. The arch was located in the heart of the city; twelve boulevards converged under the foot of Lully’s famous relief, Marseillaise; one of them, Champs Elysee, extended straight westwards to La Défense where the new Grand Arch competed with his elder brother.
Champs Elysee (a closer look) is maize, too. In fact, there is no big difference between it and Huaihai Road, except for a bolder style and the more thwarting price in cafés and theatres there. And when I passed Hôtel de Ville on my way to Museum of Rodin after lunch, again it was maize.
Frankly speaking, although I had been admiring Rodin through pictures of his works, I still got a bit unused at the first sight of them. Perhaps I had not yet waken up from Louvre’s extremity of reality and exquisiteness. (Let’s just have a look back at Bartolini’s Diree (2)) However, an open mind soon returned and I realized it was such beauty that nobody else had ever created. Nobody! Before Rodin, every school had been endeavoring toward reproducing things as like as they looked; and it was too original of Rodin to make his works as like as they felt, espcially for sculptures of the female, which was indeed his main theme. Just to share a few with you, which are already self-explanatory:
The Kiss (1, 2); Eternal Spring; Adieu; Nymph; The Age of Bronze; Eve; Torso of a Young Woman; Male Torso; Cathedral; Cry; Playing Angels; and another stirring bronze work whose title I, again, unfortunately forgot.
When I got out three hours later, I was already in a state of delirium. Think of that, I had experienced the acme of both aesthetic extremities, the refinement of Louvre and the generality of Rodin. At that moment, I felt I was at the top of the world; I didn’t realize there were still more I could have. I felt I couldn’t go for another museum right away, for my mind needed some time to rest and I knew the difference between glut and gastronomy.
Therefore, I went to Trocadéro to view Eiffel Tower from a higher level. There was a platform extending from the veranda, on which tens of pigeons came to be fed by tourists. I tore my bread into pieces, gave one piece at a time to watch them compete. After a while, I got a little bored and threw the whole rest chunk to one of them. Not knowing how to fix it with his claw, he moved the bread nearer and nearer to the edge of the platform with every peck. At last, as you can imagine, his big meal fell off the edge, leaving him watching downward resentfully—he was so stupid! I left in convulsions, only hoping the bread would not hit somebody. Otherwise, he should be the murderer, not me.
Day 3
I went to Museum of Piccaso first that morning. However, although I always deem Piccaso and Van Gogh as the two greatest visual artists ever born, only very few of his works have been pleasing to me. To me, the greatness of Piccaso is that he created so many styles, which were not only by far more than any other artist did, but also original as well as rational in each one’s own sense. I’m only a common man who even cannot feel with him. But it’s only fair of me to share in some of his greatest works, as I’m sure with an experience of his multifarious novelties your eyes would be much less blank the next time you stand in front of a modern work:
The Blue Period (1881-1903)
- The Death of Casagemas (1901, Paris). Casagemas, a painter friend with whom Picasso made his first trip to Paris, committed suicide over an unhappy love affair at the beginning of 1901. A few months later, as if to exorcise this death, Picasso painted it. “It was with the death of Casagemas in mind that I began to paint in blue.
The Rose Period (1904-1907)
- Self-Portrait (1906, Paris). The fruit of Piccaso’s study of Iberian art was a new kind of figuration that was at quite a remove from reality. The choice of certain expressive, stylized elements, divorced from any realism or ideal representation, allowed him to stress the essentials: the tenacity of a gaze and the solidity of thebody.
Study of Primitive Art (1907-1908)
- Three Figures Under a Tree (1907, Paris). The three faces were handled in the same anonymous and expressionless manner. The influence of Negro art is obvious in this picture, especially because of the impersonal aspect of the figures and the rough stylization which gives them the appearance of carved wood.
Cubism (1909-1917)
- Man Before a Fireplace (1916, Paris). A collection of overlapped planes. The only recognizable symbols to me are the chimney at the top, the mantelpiece around it and the decorative frieze appearing on both sides of the picture. But where the hell the man is?
The Classical Period (1918-1924)
- The Village Dance (1922, Paris). Picasso’s work from the years 1920-1923 was usually in terms of classicism, because the themes—nude or draped female figures with Greek profiles—are obvious references to the world of antiquity (which he rediscovered during his trip to Rome in 1917). But Picasso’s classicism is completely reinterpreted and deviated from its original principles.
Here, the dancers are as rigid as statues, their features unmoving and expressionless, their bodies pressed in an embrace that keeps them apart rather than joining them together. They are the melancholy paraphrase of the couple in Renoir’s Dance in the Countryside (Musée d’Orsay, which I shall touch upon soon), in which a man is dancing closely with his smiling partner and whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
On the Fringes on Surrealism (1924-1929)
- Nude in an Armchair (1929, Paris). Picasso was not a Surrealist. He did not rely on the random and unconscious factors involved in Surrealist creation. But the Surrealists recognized him as one of their own, for his work referred not to conventional reality, but to the artist’s internal model of it.
Here is a shrieking woman, her head thrown back, with disheveled hair and a gaping mouthful of teeth, limbs like tentacles around a horribly deformed body. This excessiveness reveals the psychological and emotional charge that Picasso’s painting had come to bear. It is not so much an expression of the woman’s despair as that of the artist’s own despairing of her: some have seen in this picture an anguished reflection of the bitter tensions in Picasso’s relationship with his first wife, Olga.
The Bathers (1927-1937)
- Bather (1929, Paris). Starting in 1918, as Picasso began spending most of his summers at seaside resorts like Dinard, Juan-les-Pins, and Cannes, the motif of bathers became a perennial feature of his work.
Though disgusting at the first sight, her obese belly, breasts, and legs do not exclude a certain graceful movement. In fact, she is amazingly dynamic: the prominence of the forward-thrusting breasts, the torsion of the bust, and the curling of the arms, as much as the position of the legs, serve to create an impression of motion. The whole body seems to have swollen and ripened like a fruit, as if charged by man’s desire.
The Muses (1936-1937)
In the spring of 1935, Piccaso’s relationship with his first wife, Olga, fell completely broken; while the painter had already entered an intimacy with Marie-Thérèse who he met in 1927 and married later. In 1936, a new woman, a young Surrealist photographer, Dora Maar, came into his life. Here, comparison is given to Piccaso’s portraits of the two women, which can give you a fair idea of his “psychological painting”:
- Portrait of Dora Maar (1937, Paris). We see that her hair was as dark as Marie-Thérèse’s was fair; she is elegantly dressed in a black blouse decorated with brightly colored embroidery and a checked skirt, and looks sophisticated right down to the tips of her polished fingernails. The resemblance with the model and the sort of psychological equivalent of it that can be achieved in paint result from a series of formal and chromatic transpositions. The face has been shown in frontal and profile views; the eyes, also shown from different angles, have a lively expression because of their different colors, red and green. The juxtaposition of so many colors here—mauve, yellow, green, and pink—has been made with such skill that we forget its improbability, while it also renders the luminous quality of the sitter’s complexion. The bright color scheme—with a dominant opposition of red and black—and the angularity of the forms—fingernails, elbow—give the impression that she must have been a temperamental woman, one who “was inclined to storms”.
- Portrait of Marie-Thérèse (1937, Paris). The vivacity of the dark-haired Dora was counter-balanced by the nonchalance of the blond Marie-Thérèse, the angular lines in the portrait of the former by the rounded contours in the portrait of the latter; the gentle curves of the hat brim, the face, the movement of the arms, the breasts, and the fingertips with their short nails. The bright colors in Dora’s portrait have given way here to pastel tones, predominantly in the blues and yellows. The comparison of these two women through their portraits gives a good idea of the contrast in their personalities and an even clearer idea of the painter’s vision of them.
It’s pity that I didn’t take any photo of his later workers due to the constraint of time. And it would only be all the more confusing if I tried to explain a picture in the absence of it. So, I may as well keep the regret until you visit the museum yourself.
I esteem myself for my mental toughness, for no sooner had I finished this brain-cell-killing Piccaso than I headed for another museum, Musée d’Orsay. Having said I preferred paintings from Romanticism onwards, it was only then that I found there could be no more appetizing places other than this one. The museum was, intriguing enough, transformed from a railway station which itself, inaugurated in 1900, became demoded with the development of mechanics. The original plan was to demolish the station and build a hotel on its base. Fortunately, a revival of interest in 19th century came to its rescue just in time, and finally turned it into a museum, reasonably enough with its grand inner décor.
Much to my taste, the museum principally contains paintings and sculptures created between the later half of 19th century and the first twenty years of 20th century. The anatomic-perfectionistic Ingres school, the chromatically unchained Delacroix, the two patriarchs of Impressionism Monet and Renoir, the patiently dotting neo-Impressionist school, and my greatest ever Van Gogh… In the middle of galaxy, I felt myself all the more like a start-up. Perhaps you are quite annoyed with my rattling on the illegible Picasso, but I sincerely suggest you not skip the following few, actually many, paragraphs:
- Sapho, by James Pradier. Romanticism in sculpture first made its appearance in 1830’s. Its ultimate goal was expression, not purity of form. Though the clothing and face of Sapho by Pradier, essentially a classicalist, conform to accepted traditions, her melancholy pose nevertheless implies a very romantic spirit.
- Ugolin, by Carpeaux. The tragic theme of Ugolin, one of the damned heroes of Dante’s Divine Comedy has often inspired romantic and symbolist painters. The subject is a very terrible one: Count Ugolin, a 13th century tyrant of Pisa who was imprisoned with his children and grandchildren by his enemy, eventually died of starvation, having first eaten the bodies of his offspring.
- The Lion Hunt, by Delacroix. This is perhaps the painting I gazed upon for the longest. As Baudelaire, author of Flower of Vice, wrote, “never have lovelier, more intense colours penetrated to the human soul by way of human eyes.” Here, the feverish, rapid brushwork, the harmonious blend of yellows, oranges, browns and reds, emphasized by occasional scarlets and greens, make a powerful and innovative painting.
- The Birth of Venus, by Alexandre Cabanel. The tilted-up and sinuous lines of Cabanel’s Venus clearly show the influence of Ingres; while her eyes, not fully open on waking up, are obviously much more flirting than Botticelli’s Venus under the same title (still remember the one I mentioned in Florence?).
- What can a man say upon seeing this Woman Bitten by a Snake? My suggestion to Musée d’Orsay is to have some guard beside it, just like what they have done for Bartolini’s Diree (3) in Louvre.
- Blue Dancers, by Degas. Degas turned to the world of racecourse and opera to study movement closely. The world of dance allowed him to use the colours of his palette with sometimes acid effect. After 1880, color began to assume greater importance in his paintings and pastels. And this is true of Blue Dancers whose daring composition and glittering artificial light rendered with touches of intense blue, green, yellow and pink, reflect the excitement of an enchanted world.
- The Swing and Dancing at the Moulin de la Galette, by Renoir. The effects of the sun are combined in such a way that they produce precisely the effect of spotted marks on the figures' clothes. The light subdued by the foliage falls in coloured patches on the clothes, faces and the ground, vibrating colours which thus tend to dissolve the forms. Such effects are characteristic of Renoir, which can be easily identified in his other works including Woman Reading and Study. Torso: Effects of Sunlight.
- Les coquelicots (Poppies), by Monet, 1873. It has become one of the most famous of all Impressionism paintings. Here, Monet evokes the vibrant feel of a summer’s day using scattered patches of colour.
Woman Holding an Umbrella, by Monet, 1886. The artist’s aim was not to paint the portrait of the figure which he barely sketched, but he was rather concerned with painting the air and light at a given moment. He was conveying the feeling of the transient moment, which had just been born, which died, and which would never return…
Monet’s career continued with full speed into 20th century, developing according to the houses and areas he inhabited; and the small village called Giverny, where he lived to the last days, became his repeated theme, particularly the water garden which he had completely developed. “I am engrossed in my work. These landscapes of water and reflections have become an obsession. It is beyond my aging strength, yet I want to convey that which I feel. I destroy them…I start again…and I hope that with so many efforts something will come out of it.” And this sinew-consuming “something” by our painter is now known as his most celebrated “Water Lilies” series. The beauty is beyond words. Let’s pore in silence:
Lily Pond, Harmony of Greens; Lily Pond, Harmony of Pinks; Blue Water Lilies, as well as The Artist’s Garden at Giverny and London, Parliament; Sun Breaking Through the Fog.
- La bouée rouge (Red Buoy), by Signac. The neo-impressionistic technique invented by Seurat was called “pointillisme” (点彩法) or “divisionisme”, which consisted in doting pure colours on the canvas, carefully juxtaposed to reinforce the richness solidity and brilliancy of the overall tone. Even more than Impressionistic works, an optical blend of these pigment take place in the eye of the observer. Here, the painting is an example of that theory pushed to extremes. It is more free of scientific constraints and is handled with broader brushstrokes, while the glittering colours are broken up into multiple patches of reflected light.
- The life and the work of Vincent Van Gogh were intimately mingled. Every voyage he undertook, every whim of his anguished temperament, led him into some new period or fresh field of pictural investigation. Yet in his every work, the long, positive, heavy brushstrokes have been consistently visible, testifying to his strong and often obdurate mind. To me, he is the greatest artist God ever bestowed us, for he painted in a way never ever painted before and impossible even to imitate afterwards, such a way, vigorous and flourishing, that made you shed tears on association with his own agony of mind and shortness of life.
Portrait of the Artist (1887); Portrait of the Artist (1889); The Midday Siesta, after Millet (talking of Millet, I found a astounding resemblance in the pictural layout between his famous The Gleaner (拾穗者, 1857) and Caillebotte’s Planning the Floor (painted 18 years after)); Van Gogh’s Bedroom at Arles; Thatches at Cordeville.
- La belle Angèle (The Beautiful Angèle), by Gauguin. After breaking up with Van Gogh in Arles, Gauguin returned to Pont-Aven (a picturesque Breton “bourg” which ever since 1860 had attracted a cosmopolitan colony of artists with its slightly archaic charm and the possibility of cheap living) in 1889, where he painted his great masterpiece,. He rejected the analytical, imitative approach of the naturalists and Impressionists, and simplified the forms with flat colours.
I mounted the top floor of the museum, thinking myself being the happiest in the world. However, just on taking a snapshot of its symbolic big clock, I suddenly found myself wrong, for what could be more blest than seeing all these with your dearest love?
Paris's metro network is such a convenience for people that you don't have to have a good sense of direction to travel around. And it was not until I went out of Musée d’Orsay that I realized Louvre was echoing right across the River Seine. Standing on the Pont Royal between them, I found myself couldn’t let go without another museum. But first, I went off for an aimless stroll in Luxembourg Park…
At twilight, I started off to Centre Pompidou, the National Museum of Modern Art. I’m not going to expatiate on its collections as I did in Louvre and Orsay, for most of the works here are beyond my appreciation. I could stand in absolute silence in front of Monet’s Water Lilies for 20 minutes, while usually I could only chortled at the whims of mind of a modern artist and walk away in less than 5 minutes. But I have to admit, they are really creative:
The Lung and Torso of Prince William and Harley; Female Torso; Muse’s Head; Etude for Couple; Nude Woman; Marie (junk sculpture); Duo-repetition (front view, side view); 12 x 12 squares (for visitors to walk barefooted to feel the difference between steel plates of different thickness)…
Although the collection was of more fun to me than of aesthetic sense, the biggest attraction at Pompidou was, however, the museum building itself. And it would only be too pitiful if one missed the inebrious view on the semi-open platform of its 5th floor. Moreover, it is one of the few museums in Paris open in the evening, when its reflective skeleton looks queer enough to match the inner content.
Day 4-5
Given the largeness of Versaille, I planned to spend a whole day there. However, I was so disappointed with its artifiality and mediocrity: trees and shrubs were pruned into geometric shapes; and you can tell, by the first sight, artificers from artists. Therefore, having taken a snapshot at the only heart-stirring thing there, Basin of Apollo, I hurried back to Paris at noon.
The rest of my time in Paris was just to visit Louvre and Orsay again and again, bathed in the ease of visual enjoyment as well as in the fierce tension of ecstasy on new discovery. On the few occasions when I felt tired, I simply went into Sacre Coeur—which was located at the heart of Montmartre, the apex of Paris—listening to the celestial sound of services, and poring over the mysterious chromatograph of the church or the play of light in foliage…
