Paris - A Bit of a Rant, - and some lovely pictures

This one is all about the art (and some of the people) I saw at the Musee D-Orsay, so if pictures don't float your boat this may not be the post for you. Stay for the rant if you like though!

I've already said that the Musee d'Orsay was overcrowded, and very large,and so all I could manage on my visit was the Impressionist and Post Impressionist Gallery, which naturally enough was the hardest to find until you understood the shape of the building. It was on the 5th floor, at the end which had a 5th floor; pity me wandering around perplexed when I got to the top of the escalators at the wrong end and wandered about looking for some way to find the invisible '5th Etage' as well as a  way to get there. 

Since it was the Impressionists and Post Impressionists I had mainly come for I can't grumble that that was all I managed although I was really sorry and frustrated coming  downstairs afterwards and passing the entrance to the Gallery for the Nabis and being just too tired to stagger into it. Another time perhaps ... 

Now here's my rant, and it's not as rant-y as it would have been if I'd written it when I first came back, and I know it's going to make me sound elitist and a snob and all those things and if you think that, well I don't really blame you. Years ago John Julius Norwich, some sort of British toff with a title and an all round go-to culture vulture for BBC Radio floated the idea that as Venice was being destroyed by being over run with tourists there should perhaps be a test that you had to pass about the history and culture of Venice before you were allowed to actually visit the place, Ridiculous, I thought, and snobbery  and cultural elitism of the worst sort, and what about the people who will come knowing nothing and go away inspired to find out more. And I still think that (mostly) but never have I come closer to agreeing with him than I did at the Musee D'Orsay. 

Here's the thing. In the days when I wasn't interested in art, I didn't go to galleries and look at it and pretend to be interested in it. What was the point? It's just the same as with instrumental classical music; I don't enjoy most of it, I recognise that by not going to concerts of instrumental music I am possibly losing out on some great music that I would love, but otoh why put myself through hours of the stuff at a great cost in time and money when I know I'm not gong to enjoy at least 90% of it. There is no point. Would that other people could recognise the futility of going to galleries and taking photos of themselves in front of pictures that they are told are Great Art. If you're not interested, don't go. Go and do something else that you will enjoy instead. Goodness knows Paris, and all the other cities with great art galleries have plenty of alternative attractions that you might enjoy more. Long walks. River trips. Shopping. Rock concerts. Gardens. None of these are any more or less meaningful as things to do than visiting a gallery, and if you enjoy them more, then do them instead. 

The Musee d'Orsay was crammed. The Impressionist Gallery was more crammed than most. I first got a bit cross trying to get close to this picture 

Berthe Morisot's Butterfly Hunt. It's a lovely little picture that moved me almost to tears, but the reason I couldn't get close enough to have a really good look was because it was hung next to the much more famous The Poppy Field near Argenteuil by Monet. I'm not saying that isn't a lovely picture too, I'm not even saying I don't like it myself in a mild sort of way, but it's famous, in fact it's so famous it's become a cliche and the reason there was a crowd of people round it, blocking face-on access to the Butterfly Hunt was that people have seen it ad inifinitum on post cards, birthday cards, coasters, table mats etc etc etc. So obviously it's the one to go and look at. And take a photo of. And have your partner take a photo of you with it in the background. And never mind the fact that some people might  actually want to get close enough to look at pictures just as good that have the misfortune to be hung on either side of it. 

Just to get the rest of the rant over, I was sorely tempted to make a very pointed remark to a young woman who was towing a friend of hers around and who I somehow couldn't shake myself loose from. I really wanted to say to her several times 'I think you should say that a bit more loudly, there are a few people at the far end of the gallery who haven't caught how clever and knowledgeable you think you are'. Obviously I didn't, but .... To be clear, it wasn't the imparting of knowledge I objected to (although the friend did look a bit glassy eyed,) it was the volume. It was the implied 'look at me, see how much I know'. And then there was the woman who came into the first room of the collection, started at the right hand side of the door and them worked her way around the room taking a photo of every picture. She didn't pause to look at the pictures, just stood in front of them, snapped her camera shutter and then moved on to the next one. Honestly, just buy yourself a guidebook and be done! 

OK, enough. I took pictures of some of the paintings myself, either because they caught my attention more than somewhat, which would include the Butterfly Hunt and this Degas, which was new to me 

or because the artists were unknown to me and I thought I would like to find out more about them. To this extent I took these 

This one sadly looks totally washed out here but it's very delicate to begin with and I loved the way the water seems to pull you along and then disappears into the distance. It's by someone called Paul Signac

and this one is by another Paul - Paul Serusier and I loved his take on poppies and cornfields. There were others, but I won't inflict them on blog readers. 

This was not a picture, it's a photo of the crowded restaurant in the Musee but I took the photograph because I could totally see this as a painting by Renoir.