“A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.” - Diane Arbus
An afternoon of art with Aunty C, anytime spent with a beloved family member is a joy within itself but to get the chance to savour an exhibition such as Diane Arbus, bliss. I loved Arbus’s wide eyed children and slices of Americana. I sat in a big wooden chair and read about Arbus’s history, it was then I truly felt inspired and moved. It constantly amazes me how such creative and talented people can be so driven and have so much confidence in their abilities. The exhibititon also got me thinking about how lucky the people of Paris and other big cities are to have the opportunity to see exhibitions from such well known artists and so much of it!
As I walked out of the Jeu De Paume, the rain began to hammer down and the wind blustered around me, almost pushed me straight across the deserted Jardins Des Tuileries, which looked tres creepy with it’s avenue of leafless trees. I battled forth and arrived at the Musee de L’Orangerie to be welcomed by NO LINE…every cloud and all that! I wandered in, simply happy to be out of the cold, semi aware that this museum was meant to be pretty special, when I entered a circular room…..woah baby! Crikey! No-one prepared me for the feast of beauty that Monet had prepared for us. It was awesome, the colour, the texture….the poetry within the art. Now, the paintings and their beauty were one thing but the fact that I was there sitting in front of them was another. I felt wonderfully gluttonous feasting on a glorious banquet of colour, ever so tempted to reach out to feel the textured ripples of the pond. I sat and wrote in my journal and the emotions came flooding out…how is it three weeks ago I was sitting surrounded by a different kind of beauty so far away from here, it’s so cool that we can just fly to another part of the world if we choose, how blessed I am. I wish I could of bottle that feeling of independence, hold it deep in my soul so I can open it as the need arises and remind myself of how I felt the moment I sat before the Nymphéas.
Downstairs of the L’Orangerie was an exhibition showing works from Spanish artists 1890-1920, I fell quickly in love with a number of artists, a couple of paintings seemed to bore a resemblance to the haunted eyes of Diane Arbus’s work. The paintings I liked from fellas such as Santiago Rusion, Ramon Casas i Carbo and Julio Romero de Torres, showed portraits of what seemed like every day life and the faces of the people drew you in, it was like what Arbus said, ” A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know”, these paintings were similar, they made you want to know more about their subjects and surroundings.
My peace was disrupted by a school of teenagers who flooded into the gallery…same the world over; confident, arrogant, curious, shy, awkward, giggly, flirty, loud, without boundaries like large fluffy dogs unaware of their size….they make me laugh, you got to love them. They awake me from my cliched thoughts of art, beauty and life and I make my way to the Le Rotound, my new favourite coffee place opposite the Trinity Church…I like to pretend I’ve been living here for ages, sit down in ‘my favourite spot’, order my usual cafe creme, help out a lost tourist and settle down to a good book. For all the fanciful words I could throw at it, it has been a bloody good day!