Laume's Studio

I'm feeling better today and so I need to get this post off and get something done today - errands or weeding.... maybe not weeding, my hands are still sore.... but something. Being slothful due to sickness isn't fun like being slothful say, sitting at a tea room for the afternoon. It gets boring.

Moving on, some bits and pieces from the Musee D'Orsay.



This is but isn't the museum. This is the inside of a small scale model of the building on display.




Here's the real thing, taken between the bracing on an upper floor. And I think.... from the opposite direction. More people, more art, and of course that fabulous clock.




Another miniature. This one was teeny tiny and if memory serves, was an example of an opera scene.


Poppies by Claude Monet

The top floor is my favorite, filled with the Impressionists. Well, filled with their paintings. And perhaps a bit of their spirits linger in the brush strokes and colors. It feels that way. I remember this painting from my childhood. Or maybe it was my young adulthood. Either my mom had this on the wall, or I did when I was first on my own. Man, I'm getting old.



I loved seeing the children in the museums. Kids exposed to art early enough enjoy it in a way adults can't. They don't assume something is good or bad, important or inconsequential. They're not intimidated by it or told they're "supposed" to like it. They just wander around taking in the colors and moods and form their own opinions. There favorite thing might be a painting by Picasso or the really cool escalator on the third floor. It's all good, y'know.

I was particularly impressed by this group of students studying this painting. Children in front of a painting of a nude - GASP! Would American's allow this sort of thing? Well, to be fair I suppose it would depend on the school, the geographical area of the U.S., the age of the kids. But I just thought it was cool that Europeans have far less hang ups (or so it seems, perhaps they have ones I'm not familiar with) about the human form. When I walked by this group, a stray thought popped into my head - something about how Cheney* used to (still does?) do newscasts in front a particular Washington D.C. statue but, not wanting a nude behind him, he ordered the statue draped in fabric. I remember how, when I first heard about this, how annoyed I was, how stupid I thought it was not to simply move his podium if it bothered him that much. I wish I remembered the details more specifically but, you get the idea.

*A friend let me know I had this story all messed up - which I knew, I only remembered wispy floating cloud pieces of the story. Apparently it was John Ashcroft, not Cheney. Thanks Cindy.



Here's a much younger group of students actually creating their own recreations of this painting. I thought the teachers made a good choice and I smiled at the thought of how kids that age would create all these wonderful jaggedy rocks and puffy clouds, stick figures and colorful boats and garland shaped waves.



To quote some famous Brits - "And now for something completely different!" We turned a corner and suddenly found ourselves in a large dark room full of ...... words. A bit of modern art - I felt like I was offered a small dish of sherbet between classical courses, a cleansing of the palate so to speak. Here's hubby - his ample forehead makes a great display board, doncha think?



Here's me covered in unknown words. I remember posing intentionally in front of some words I knew and liked, but by the time hubby figured out how to use the camera in the semi-darkness, I got something unexpected. I'll have to Google the words to see what I say.



Lots of statues of course, some of them not the traditional standing up in the middle of a park type. This young woman was sprawled out and it was hard to get a good picture of her in her entirety. So I didn't even try. The details are sometimes the best thing about a piece anyway.

Want to get out of the museum and into the streets? Over on Beach Treasure today I'm showing you our personal little corner of Paris.