Paris - Part 9, Rodan, Musee D'orsay and the search for a pharmacy

What is on his mind?

In all my years of traveling, I have only been ill once on a trip.  Every other time I’ve been exceedingly lucky and healthy.   My parents are usually the same, but unfortunately this time and this trip to France my Dad and I would not be so (at the time I didn’t know I was getting sick as well).    Mom and I got up and the first thing we did was ask for directions to a pharmacy that would be open on a Sunday.

This was no small feat.  Most everything shutters and closes on Sundays.  Food alone can be hard to find.  Our first chance eluded us, but Mom was persistent and we tried to ask inside a larger Hotel.  Thankfully, they were very gracious and gave us directions to a Pharmacy that did indeed have stuff to help Dad.  

On our way back, we passed through beautiful old neighborhoods very different from everything else we’d seen.  There were little cafes, pleasant shops, and the streets were nice and wide.  Mom pointed out two cafes in particular that were haunts of Hemmingway and other writers.  It just so happened we’d found them, and only because Dad needed medicine.

Once he was situated in his convalescence, Mom and I were on our own.  We decided to not pass up a chance and at least wanted to go see the Musee D'orsay and the Rodan Museum.  Looking over the map it didnt look to far to walk.  If we felt ambitious, we might even head up past the Grand Palais and to the Champs Elysees before landing at the Arc De Triumph.  

On paper it made sense, and we could turn around and head back any time so long as we stuck to the main streets.   Mom thought it was a good idea, so with the map firmly in my hand, armed only with a vague knowledge of everything around us, the two of us headed out into the "wild" unknown of Paris.

To be honest I was rather scared.  I was in charge not only of finding our way, but keeping Mom safe.  Our experiences so far with French security and Police presence made me honestly fear we’d get mugged and no one would bat an eye.  I had to put these concerns aside, and kept mom close as we headed first to the Musee D’orsay.  I apologize for a lack of pictures inside, but they didn't allow photography.  

I have to admit right now, everything I knew about the D’orsay I learned from watching one episode of Doctor Who, when The Doctor met Vincent Van Gogh.  Indeed the Museum houses his work, along with hundreds of other works of painters, sculptors, furniture makers etc.  From the outside it’s a huge and gracious building, and inside its monumentally cavernous.  

The whole place is a former train station, complete with huge clocks on the outside and inside.  There is no photography allowed inside, and at first I was relieved.   This, I thought, would solve my problem at the Louvre where people would not actually pause to appreciate the art.   Unfortunately, I was wrong.   

There was plenty of splendid art on the inside of the D’orsay, including a whole wing of Impressionists.  Mom especially liked the Renoirs, while I was more taken with the Monets.  The real thing I came for though, was the Van Gogh.  I thought there was a whole wing dedicated to all of his paintings.  In truth, it was just a small room and maybe about six paintings.   I didn’t mind the smallness, but again, I was going off of Doctor Who which had a huge room with everything in it.  Obviously theirs was an embellishment.

There was no “Starry Night” and no “Sunflowers” but there was his Self Portrait, which was the one painting among all of them that struck me the most.  Van Gogh had a wonderful way of looking at the world for as tortured a man as he was.  He globbed color onto everything, and is considered a Post-impressionist, and I could see why.  His art lacks the subtle softness of Monet, but the colors are far more impressive.  

The portrait of Van Gogh was best viewed in three stations.  First from far away: Van Gogh seems soft, muted, almost smiling.  The tone is pleasant and the globs not so obvious.  Next was halfway: Van Gogh became more intense, focused, stern and the globs of paint more obvious, giving texture.  Finally was up close, right at the cusp of the wall.   Here, the intensity of his stare is hypnotic.  The artist stares into your soul and you feel his presence in the painting.   It was truly wonderful to see. 

I mentioned before there was no photography, well, people were taking photos … right in front of museum staff.  It wasn’t as bad as the Louvre, but it was still distracting.  At one point, I watched a man reach out and physically TOUCH one of the paintings.  Thankfully it was under glass, but the woman curator next to it didn’t bat an eye.  I stared at my mother and asked, “What is with these people?  Don’t they –care- about anything?”

I was honestly underwhelmed by the D’orsay, but our next destination of Rodan was much more to my liking.  I was tired of crowds, and insisted we be relegated to the garden where his larger sculptures are housed.  

Rodan Museum with the Invalides building int he background

They were all very impressive, huge and imposing bronze statues.  All Rodans seem to be in motion, though they are quite still.  There is movement in their faces, in their clothes, in their bodies, even “The Thinker.” While he sits in repose, has his mind in movement. 

Repose

Such a strange angle of the neck

Wrestlers

A portrait of an artist friend of Rodan.  I like the reclining angle of the main figure.

There is an almost wraithlike quality to this statue.

I took this because I couldn't help but make the "butt of a joke" reference.

The gardens were very lovely, but the most impressive sculpture by far is the “Gates of Hell.”  It incorporated several other statues, including “The Thinker” in its design.  He sits on the precipice of the gate, and above him are three other figures standing atop the gate. 

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

I couldn’t help but wonder if “The Thinker’s” meditations were upon these images.  He sat upon one section with the worries and wars of the world behind him, while below was only torment and despair.  It’s a startling, very moving scene and I was all too happy that this particular portal was closed.    If "The Thinker" is Rodan's most recognized piece, the "Gates of Hell" is his masterpiece.  It contained many small representations of many sculptures did, most of them in the garden.

The Thinker on the Gates of hell

Figures in agony

It was a foreboding interlude to what would turn out to be a very interesting tour of the heart of Paris.  (To be continued!)

Close up of a portrait of several artists, I found it interesting this man was gazing behind the others in his group.  These are also on the gates of hell.