just another American bumbling around Paris.

Category: art

les seins, P. Guillaume

J’admire le dessin.

Melisa:  “Ils sont gros.”

Moi:  “Vraiment?  Moi je les trouve normaux.”

au musée.

(photos interdites, mais tout le monde les prend en cachette quoi…)


une visite à l’Orangérie

can you find me?

jardin des tuileries, 22 février 2012

c’est trooop, le froid…

Oh la, it is seriously too cold these days.  I don’t know why I’m such a big baby about it; I’m from Illinois, for crying out loud.  I’m used to walking to class in several feet of snow.  I’m accustomed to not being able to move my arms due to all the layers the cold necessitates.  I’m used to much worse weather than a nip in the air and a bit of wind (especially in the metro.  I have never felt such wind in my life).  But God help me, I can’t take it anymore!  Paris weather, from what I’ve heard and what I experienced last year, tends to improve during the month of February.  We’re halfway through, vacation starts in a week, and I’m here for the duration, so let’s do this, bitches.

Image (Our adorable friend Tere guiding us to Sunday brunch, which ended with a wait on the sidewalk.)

After a last-minute relocation (on n’a pas envie d’attendre une heure et demi, merci) for brunch and a latté, Maria and I went to the famous 59 Rue de Rivoli, which I’ve walked by and stared at millions of times, but never actually seen from the inside.  It’s quite an impressive setup…  59 Rue de Rivoli is basically 6 floors of artists doing their thing how they want, where they want, in whatever form they want, and it’s free for the public to come check out.  There’s a good amount of rubbish lying around (some areas of the building resemble some crazy old person’s musty attic more than a cool Parisian artist’s workshop, but maybe those things aren’t so different?) and lots of colorful graffiti covering the walls.  There was a Seattle artist who had a setup I really liked, and I wanted to get a postcard of a lovely painting of Sardinia to send to Claire, but the dude was nowhere to be found.  Perhaps I’ll return to seek him out.

No pictures are allowed, which I understand and respect, but there was explicit permission to take a photo of this announcement that the building now charges artists to use its space, and new artists are being forced to shut down and move, patati patata, so voilà, dutifully passing the message along…


We went on this particular day because there were a variety of free spectacles de musique going on.  We arrived as two musicians were setting up their space, and as we moseyed toward the door a flustered woman hurried after us.  “J’ai des infos qu’il faut transmettre!!”  “Euh…okay.”  “Le concert de [ce mec] va se passer sur le 3ème étage, pas le cinquième!”  “Ahh…”  Maria had been texting so she wasn’t sure if the woman wanted her to send out a mass text or what.  The woman continued in a flurry:  “Il y a des chaises pliées mais il faut les installer toute de suite pour tout le monde!”  We peered at each other and at the woman.  She repeated her plea about unfolding the folding chairs.  “Vous comprenez?” she asked Maria.  Maria kind of squinted, so she turned to me.  “Vous comprenez?”  I looked at her.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  “…vous voulez de l’aide?”  Bingo.  We headed back in to set up the noisy, creaking, ancient, HEAVY folding chairs (meanwhile, a woman with a violin looked thoroughly irritated that I dared to set my empty coffee cup and purse so near to her so as to free my hands to set up the chairs for her audience).  A woman with a clipboard rushed up to me as we were arranging chairs and asked if I knew the musician’s first name.  I had seen it on the sign, so I told her what I thought it was, and then quickly assured her that I didn’t work there.  “Ah non, moi je travaille ici!” she responded reassuringly.  Of course.  Of course you do.  Sigh…