Italian Mob take over the Louvre

The mob of people headed to the Italian painting galleries to see her majesty.


The Louvre may be a French museum, but the massive crowds are there to see the Italians. And why not? Long after Marie Antoinette lost her head, there still remains an immortal Queen holding court in this former Royal Palace. And mon dieu, she's not even French! Her name is Lisa del Giocondo, and she has, one could easily argue, the most famous face in the world. I think the Mona Lisa is absolutely incredible, and that she deserves all the attention she commands. Unlike her fellow celebrities over in the New World who get photographed exiting limos whilst knicker-less, or videotaped cavorting with ill-bred commoners; Mona Lisa never loses her poise. And what poise! She shames the crowds who gawk at her, pushing cameras in her face, blasting millions of flashbulbs into her delicately rendered eyes. Through it all she sits calmly, smiling just so, in a way that suggests she has seen more and knows more than we could ever imagine. The kind of knowledge that only immortals know. And in some miraculous way, in spite of the seas of people in front of her, she can communicate with you directly, look into your soul, and give you only as much as you're willing to give her. Skeptics may disagree and instead focus on the size of her canvas, or get annoyed by the crowd's barbaric behaviour, or only look for clues to crack the fictional Da Vinci code (in fact, the Lourve rents out headsets based on the popular novel.) But if you approach her without an agenda, try to see her for what she is - versus the monumental myth built over a lifetime of multi-layered memories of billboards and magazine advertisements - she will not disappoint. In this picture, you can see how some people choose to perpetuate the myth by having their picture taken in front of her, as if they were standing in front of Niagara Falls or above the Grand Canyon. She is similar to these phenomena, in that a photograph cannot do her justice. But, she differs in that unlike the natural world, we actually know her maker: Leonardo (with whom we're on a first name basis), who, over 500 years ago took a brush, some pigments and oil, and created a legend.

The Less-Crowded Louvre

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, Bather of Valpincon, 1808

Since the most asked question at the Louvre is "How do I get to the Mona Lisa?", it follows that all the routes to Lisa are jam-packed with tourists. The upside of this, is that on the upper levels, relative tranquility may accompany your visit to the canvases from France, and northern europe. As one might expect, the collection of French paintings is vast. Writing about them after a spending a month living in Italy - where Italian painting dominates the museums and churches, I can't help but compare. In the French, Dutch and German galleries of the Louvre I was certainly awed by the mastery of skill and illusion in many of the paintings. In retrospect, however, I must admit it was a fairly rational experience. It was quite possible to remain cool while standing in front of these paintings...identifying, admiring and acknowledging their greatness. This experience seems to pale when compared, for example, to how a single face looking out from a crowd of faces in a Titian has the power to throw the viewer into an immediate existential crisis! It is disconcerting in the most arresting and fantastical way. But, I digress. I was intending to show you some of the paintings at the Louvre, and instead have somehow directed you to Italy if you seek paintings and sculpture that will tear at your heart and soul. I beg your pardon.



This is one of many French canvases of epic proportions that you might have all to yourself to enjoy. In fact, I had to wait a bit for the woman in the background to enter the frame, so that she could unknowingly provide some sense of scale. Merci.



A small oil sketch for the massive Raft of the Medusa by the French painter Theodore Gericault. Not to be missed if you liked the full size version downstairs. The drawing beneath the painting visible in this image reveals much about the artist's working method and his mastery of anatomy and gesture. If you click on the image to see it bigger you will see how the character with the red headscarf is holding a lifeless man. It seems as if he is waiting, with growing boredom, for Gericault to add some colour (life) to his poor pale shipmate.



In addition to seeing the often reproduced, Hall of Fame artworks in the flesh, another wonderful thing about these massive museums is discovering little treasures that were previously unknown to you. Like this one where you can literally follow the light as in travels through the window, hits the floor, then illuminates the underside of the mysterious staircase.


In this famous Gericault from 1821, long before the science of stop motion photography revealed the truth, we can see how some people used to think horses galloped.

The Vimy Memorial

The Figure of Canada (a.k.a. Sorrow), by Walter S. Allward. Canadian National Vimy Memorial.

Of all the places I planned on visiting this year, the Vimy Memorial is the site for which I had the highest expectations. After seeing the emotional Easter Monday broadcast on the CBC last year commemorating the 90th anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, I had it in my mind that it might be the most beautiful (and moving) memorial in the world. Yes, including pyramids, archs, and the Taj. It is a memorial to all those who fought the battles of the Great War; and as some suggest - a monument to the moment in time when Canada became a nation.
So I headed out to Arras, France to visit this place I had grown fond of from afar. It did not disappoint. It IS the most beautiful memorial I have ever seen. In the photos below, I try to capture a bit of the experience, hoping that someday you will visit the site. Ever Canadian must, everyone else should.


The Flemish town of Arras, France is where you will find a place to stay closest to the momument. As you can see, it is beautiful. Less than one hour on the TGV from Paris Gare du Nord (175km)


The land surrounding the monument has been planted with species to evoke the Canada landscape.


These re-constructed trenches are one of the first things you see when on the tour of the underground tunnels. They may not be inhabited with the foul stench of death and rats that the real trenches were riddled with, but they do give you some idea of just how close they were to the enemy.


The surreal landscape all around the site has been sculpted by mortar shelling and land mines.


Much of the surrounding area is still full of land mines, so you have to stay within the prescribed safe zones. Sheep belonging to a local farmer, too light to set off the mines, are used to keep the grass trimmed.




We're getting there. It is a long, and at times, an emotional walk.




This is, for lack of a better term, the 'back' of the memorial.


This is the front, with Canada standing by herself on the edge.


Sympathy of Canadians for the Helpless


I love how his foot breaks the implicit frame here.


Looking up.


A perfect end to the day. Getting a drive back to Arras from Georges who has been driving Canadians to and from the site for years. He is a fixture at the site, and a great friend to all those who work there. In this picture, taken at the graveyard for German soldiers, he is showing a fellow Canadian the map of the area.

Moo.com, cool handbags, and Abba Gold in Paris, mon Dieu!

As I mentioned in the last posting, train travel can be rather civilised at times. I had a lovely journey from London to Paris and met Fran from America and Yasmeem from Paris (but originally from Beirut). At this point I am going to make a shameless plug for moo.com, and their cool mini-cards, postcards, and sticker books - they can all be ordered and made from your facebook or flicker pictures. You can check them out on line, but until you feel an actual matt-laminated mini card in your hand, you might not fully get it. That's okay. Order them anyway, trust me. (and I'm not just saying this because Lisa work's for them. Her blog is the Rodwellian link, btw.) Order them now and you can use them at Christmas...my goodness, did i just use the c-word! It must be all the moo.com excitement.
Anyway, these moo mini-cards are really fun, and are a great thing to give to people as you travel through life. I gave one to Fran, and this piqued Yasmeen's interest. (she had been happily listening to her ipod as we north americans sat across from her talking and talking, as we're known to do) It turns out Yasmeen is a designer and found the cards really beautiful. She was travelling with a silkscreened leather bag she designed herself. Fran bought a couple of bags from her right then and there. You can look up Yasmeen Farah's bags and notebooks at www.gingerlily.fr



Anyway, we all got on famously, and in Paris I hung out with Yasmeen and her friends, ate steak frites and went to Abba Gold, of course: Voulez-Vous. The picture outside the theatre is of Yasmeen and her photographer friend Nicolas, who looked to me like a french Joaquin Phoenix, so I called him Joaquin Paris.

Paris

I was lucky enough to have been in Paris to see some of the fall colours. I decided to take the Eurostar train to there because it gets you to downtown Paris is less time than the three frickin' hours you are supposed to be at Heathrow before your flight even gets off the ground. Terrorist jerks! That and also because it freed up an extra stop on my round-the-world ticket to see friends in San Fran next June. And rail travel can be so much more civilised than air travel. In Paris, I had dinner with my tres pregnant friend Pet and her beau. She choose Hotel du Nord as our dining destination, where we were joined by another friend of theirs. Coincidentally, I was staying at the Nord Hotel, right across from the Gard du Nord; a place I recommend if you're looking for decent, relatively inexpensive Paris accommodation and will be travelling in and out of the city from the Gare du Nord train station, as I was. Not top choice for neighbourhood strolling, or dining, however. For that go to the very french Hotel du Nord. Not only does it share names with my hotel, but it is film-themed, in a way, like my year off. Check out their nifty website www.hoteldunord.org
And by the way, the food was excellent. It won't be quite as french in the near future, as the new smoking ban takes effect.


The day after dinner with my old friend from Toronto, I went to see the new Cinematheque built by Toronto-born architect Frank Gehry. On my way there I came across this modern, grass-covered structure built for sporty people activities. I don't really know much about it, but I liked the way the sun was illuminating the grass and plaza area so I laid down on the ground and took some pictures. That's kinda sporty, isn't it? Up, down, click, up.





In the same way Hotel du Nord was very french, this newish Cinematheque was very Gehry. Lots of curves, playful, surreal. The back street-side and the side that faced a neighbouring building were tamer; that is to say more geometric and therefore more traditional than the corner facade. They fit harmoniously with their surroundings, while still speaking the same language as the facade, which, being more organic, both faced and reflected the adjacent trees and park area. I really like the way the cube in the black and white photograph seems to float and drift away. I think this sensation of motion is very apt for a building that is devoted to the moving image.

Almost Paris. London, actually.

This post should really be dated late October, when I was in London. However, it's actually late November, and I am currently settled for a while at British School in Rome, and finally able to get caught up on this travel blog thing. So I have been thinking back to my week in France , looking through my photos and trying to distill the whole experience down to a few word and images. I have opted for more pictures than words. The reality of this whole blog thing is that when living my normal, non-sabbatical life I barely have time to read blogs, never mind write one. Cian, another resident artist here in Rome, suggested that a good title for a blog would be "I Don't Even Have the Time to Read a Blog, Never Mind Write One". I thought this would indeed be a good name for a blog, but only if the author were to write massively long and complex daily blogs that would require no less than a full day of thoughtful writing.
This blog, lucky for you and me both, will not be so word-y but rather more picture-y.
(It is Cian, btw, who so generously lent me his lovely Macbook Pro, that I am working on right now. Really, why do people bother with PC's? Life is too short to work on a PC if you don't have to!)
Anyway, before I get to Paris, let me go back to London for a bit to tell you about the best pizza ever. It was at a little place at 91 Brick Lane called Story Deli. It feels a bit like Commute on Queen West in Toronto. Sorry, no picture, but here is a link for Londoners and those London-bound. Go and eat organic pizza and drink organic beer.
http://www.timeout.com/london/restaurants/reviews/6710.html

This bit of pizza was had after seeing some shorts films by Lotte Reiniger at the Tate Modern. If you have not seen her work, check it out. They are ground-breaking paper cut-out animated films. Very beautiful, very lyrical.



...and very much sampled by American artist Kara Walker.

London: Eh to Zed

From Cornwall I went to London where I saw loads of art, visited some of my Canadian friends (who live there for now, but have promised to come home one day), and got in touch with my deeply spiritual side, by which I mean The Force.



I stayed with my Uncle in Highgate most of the time, but spent a few nights with J- and L- too. Here is a picture of a wall in the Highgate tube station. The "faith" in the corner is fitting because George Michael lives in Highgate, just a hop and a skip from where my Uncle lives; and because I love George Michael (yes, Arrested Development George Michael Bluth too, as it happens) and in fact bought a copy of his brilliant record Listen Without Prejudice in a charity shop in Leicestershire because it is really good looking. The entire 12 x 12 cover is a reproduction of Weegee's picture of the crowded beach at Coney Island. Sadly, I have not seen his highness in my Highgate wanderings, but I did see Queen Natalie Portman when I was in New York! And yes, she is heavenly in real life, and totally cool in a grey t-shirt, jeans and flats. Silver-ish flats if you must know, space boot silver because she is out of this world. Oh, and you think I'm being nerdy now...just wait!



I saw a lot of great art in London. Ed Ruscha's new drawings of busted glass were a highlight. He is a complete inspiration. These drawings were new and fresh, yet totally recognizable as his work. At the Tate Modern I saw the big crack in the turbine hall. It was supremely executed. The best part was seeing the school kids sit down and put their legs down the crack.



I also went to the gallery area of Bethnal Green with my former student Tessa, but it was pretty much closed and in between shows. Bethnal Green was bombed heavily by the Germans during the blitz. People in Highgate could see it burning from the Heath. The rebuilding means you get a lot of interesting architectural juxtapositions. I think this one works well.


Since the galleries were mostly closed, it gave me time to investigate the Nissan Figaro, a cute little car that has been catching my attention while visiting these green and pleasant shores. They were made for the Japanese market for just two years, so all the ones in the UK have been imported from the land of the rising sun. Here is Tessa trying one on for size. She is now in grad school at Slade. In painting, in case you missed seeing the paint on her jeans.



So after seeing some trendy galleries, the venerable Tate Modern, and the blue chip art galleries of the West End I was pretty saturated. But the best was yet to come: Star Wars - The Exhibition! True story. It was an amazing exhibition. Partly because I am such a fan (a.k.a. geek), but mostly because of the original Ralph McQuarrie drawings, the storyboards and the models. Really great source material for my drawing project, too.



This storyboard image should be called the Resurrection of the Everyman. To my eyes, the way Han Solo is glowing reminds me of the way Tintoretto painted Christ. May the Force Be with You

Signs, signs, everywhere signs

I left New York on October 6 and flew to London, crossing the Atlantic Ocean. For those interested in buying a Star Alliance round-the-world plane ticket, you should know that it requires that you cross both the Altantic and Pacific, and with my ticket I can stop in up to 15 cities and have up to 24 flight segements with a total mileage of 30,000.

When I arrived at Heathrow I hopped in my Uncle Robert's car and we drove 7 hours to Cornwall to visit his sister, my Aunt Margaret. The quiet coastal countryside was a welcome respite from the noise and filth of the great metropolis.



I like how many of the houses here have names. At home it is something I have only seen done by University students: The G-spot, K-Mart and Stonehenge, of course.
I have learned that a lot of signs are getting pinched here and sold as scrap metal! It is such a shame, but it meant I was fortunate enough to meet Oliver when he was in the midst of casting in iron a replacement road sign for the town council. This is the foundry he built in one of his farm's buildings. The furnace is melting iron to pour into a mold made from the white pattern of the sign on the lower left.



Here is a sad looking Subaru Brat on Oliver's property. The Brat is the japanese cousin of the El Camino. This one has handles welded on to the roof because it was used for hunting hares.



On one of our walks to Mylor Harbour we came across these amusing signs. Danger signs aren't suppose to be funny, but I can't help laughing at this one. Maybe the Brits laugh at this fellow's misfortune too, perhaps referring to it as schadenfreude - a term they may have picked up whilst fighting off the jerry's in either of the World Wars.



The roads in rural England are often very narrow, and what might be a one way lane in North America, is actually a two way road here. So, every now and then there are these wider bits referred to as a "passing place". Here is a picture of a sign that has either: (A) has been vandalised by teenage hooligans (Arsenal fans no doubt), or (B) is an artist's "intervention" short-listed to win the Turner prize?



I am not going to give you the answer. You'll have to think: Does it look like the work of teenagers drunk after a few pints and "taking the piss" out of roadside signage; or an artist deconstructing the structures that control our every move, including where we "take a piss" when nature calls?



I call this one sign-painting-buddy. I love this moment. Here is a guy who has survived two World Wars, the Depression and Margaret Thatcher! But at this moment is completely focussed on the matter at/in hand, and the rest of the world and his long history in it have fallen aside. His mouth is even open, he is that focussed! He is my idol.

57th Street

I walked down 57th countless times while in New York. I should say walked fast, because the pace on the New York City's streets is amazingly fast. I learned to do a shoulder check if I was going to change direction, because there might actually be someone about to pass me, and I walk fast...or at least move fast due to my stretched frame. Anyway, the glitzy and glamourous windows of the posh shops inevitable become commonplace, just markers on a landscape of glass, stone and concrete. Markers that help you know have much ground you have covered, how much further it is to school, when to turn and go use the cool and free iphones at the Apple store to make dinner plans, etc.
But like certain trees in a rural landscape stand out, there are a few shop windows that remain more that just a blur. And surprisingly theses stores are purveyors of widely counterfeited, conservatively designed, soccer Mom handbags. So I am not really sure why these caught my eye, maybe it's that the pink and turquoise coloured tights take me back to the days of Miami Vice, the first TV show I remember that used cool music to illuminate the story and characters. Beyond that nostalgia, the outfits are pretty sexy: mini skirts, high heels, lots of un-done buttons...a world away from the staid style of the knocked-off Coach bags. But when I think about the magazine ads for LV and Burberry, they do seem a bit edgy...yet their handbags are so conservative and safe, almost anti-fashion. I think the bags for these labels have become like the their perfumes - staple moneymakers that allow the designers to concentrate on the haute couture lines for the few uber-rich fashionistas, while allowing the many rich conservatives, and not so rich climbers a sense that they are a part of the window display and magazine ad celebrity fantasy.



My attraction to the Darjeeling Limited display is less mysterious: I like Wes Anderson's films, I like stylish luggage sets and the fantasy of first class travelling they represent, and I'm really looking forward to visiting India. Just look at the yellow - in a few months I imagine I'll be eating daal that colour.