Yesterday I noticed that the gate attendants didn't so much as glance at mine or James' ticket as we entered the galleries, so I take yesterday’s ticket and flash it to gain free entrance for the second day in a row. Perhaps I’m adding to the problem of there being so many strikes closing the museum, but I doubt it (I feel even less worse about my actions when I leave the museum hours later- beneath I.M.Pei’s pyramid, the two level museum gift store is flanked by a sprawling mall, with everything from a Starbucks to an Apple store). Of course the dude in front of me in line gets stopped and asked for his ticket. In the confusion of him fumbling in his pockets, I scoot pass him and in. Score. Of course my overactive, paranoid imagination starts to get a the better of me, so I scoop up a discarded ticket bearing today's date off the ground (these people are notorious litterers) just in case I get asked for proof of purchase at some point.
So, one of my favorite iconesque pieces of art is Martorell's painting of St. George slaying a dragon (it's in Chicago). I'm not sure why it appeals to me, but I think it has something to do with the combination of gold and wry chuckle it puts in my belly that people actually believe(d) in these stories.
Apparently, it's part of a pentych, and the Louvre has the other four pieces. I'm not sure what slaying a dragon has to do with being judged, dragged, and decapitated, but I'm sure religion has a way of making it all make perfect sense.
Here's another St. George that I pieced together.
The Venus de Milo proves to be more interesting than the Mona Lisa, but nowhere near as grand as Nike of Samothrace. I guess like all art and music, half the popularity is the hype.
This guy snuck up on me.
I love when pieces of art like this survive. I wonder how much art existed depicting harmless human nature, only to be destroyed over the years by puritanical regimes and mindsets.
I wonder if Jim Henson came here before coming up with his idea for the Skeksis.
Meandering thought the Louvre is a bit dreamy. You see massive amounts of art that I've only seen before in books. There's even a couple pieces that I'm seeing for a third time in person, after catching the touring Louvre show in Atlanta and Minneapolis. These are two of my old friends from those exhibits-
I make it to the last seconds before closing time and head home. As the train doors slide open and I step onto the platform, I have a vague déjà vu state of mind. I figure is just the "I've seen this painting somewhere before" line bouncing around in my head. But I feel like I know this place. Turns out it's the Metro stop that some of the scenes from Amelie were filmed at. Man I love that movie. Someone go home and brush their teeth with foot ointment for me.
Later that night, our French booking agent, Guillaume, invites us to check out another one of the bands he's taken under his wing. So we excitedly make a trip out into the depths of Paris to survey the nightlife. Maybe I should have had the foresight to realize there might be something slightly amiss when we made our way out of the underground and the Metro sign was made up like an Alice in Wonderland prop.
Things at the l'International seemed pretty normal. It's a sweet bar that puts on free shows in the basement almost every night of the week. We catch a couple tunes by Sarah W Papsun and when they finish, and another guy started setting up his amps and keyboards on stage. Totally normal. And then I turn my back for one minute...
Speechless.
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