Photo Credit: VA Clark Copyright 2015 @
AFTER A LIFETIME of longing to see the treasures of the Louvre, my first visit there was a huge disappointment.
It was our third actual day in Paris, Tuesday, May 8th. After an entire afternoon of sightseeing, my son and I walked up to the pyramid-decked plaza to discover it totally empty.
A sign with a rope across the entrance area read: "Closed for Holiday".
"What holiday?" I cried in exasperation! Neither he nor I had heard anything about a holiday. There had been a parade in the street while we were enroute to Versailles the day before...but nothing around us indicated a holiday, other than an empty expanse of concrete that got us no closer to the magnificence inside.
"Don't cry, Mom", my son said. He thought I was pouting. He spent so much time with his children that he could only surmise I was displaying child-like behavior. We had been apart for so many years, that as an adult he didn't really know me well.
Victor could not imagine the bitter disappointment that welled up in my heart and eyes after so many decades spent waiting for this moment. To see the glass pyramid alone, designed by Chinese architect I.M. Pei, was a thrill in itself.
Wanting to see the interiors below ground, which most world art experts say exceed even the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, was for me the focal point of the trip.
"Let's go do some people watching instead", he said, heading down the street toward the Rue du Rivoli.
"We could go to a café and have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine."
"Okay" I agreed reluctantly, allowing him to cheer me up.
So we went to a café, met two very nice fellow-Americans who were attending the Cordon Bleu cooking school. It was a thrilling evening for me, being able to ask unlimited questions about the school and what life was like as an American living in Paris. (More about that encounter in my book: I Fell For Paris.)
But the very next day we were back at the Louvre again. Only this time we went looking for the Carrousel entrance. We hoped we wouldn't have to wait in horrendously long lines.
A charming and handsome Frenchman had shown me the entrance, on my first day in Paris. It was such a kind gesture to an American on her arrival to the City of Beauty.
Victor and I made our way from the Place des Pyramides, taking a left, and followed the Rue de Rivoli until we finally found the mall entrance at 99 rue de Rivoli. It was much farther than I remembered when the welcoming gentleman had directed me to the doors that day. Perhaps I was enjoying his conversation so much, and struggling to speak entirely in French, that I was a little distracted. : )
We finally found the glass doors leading to the escalators that direct one to the shopping mall prelude before the prize!
Down a few escalators we descended. Then we walked along a sandstone colored corridor into a large open area, with the pyramid glass directly above us.
We waited about twenty minutes in line with our pre-paid museum passes in hand. We had heard that having them shortened one's wait.
Meanwhile, my eyes took in all the beautiful stores around me.
Photo Credit: C. Clark Copyright 2015@
There was House of Chocolates, Comedie Francaise, L'Occitane, Fragonard (perfumes,) Printemps and a host of others that I wished I had the time and money to browse in.
Finally we reached the front of the line to show our passes. My son likes art too. We were anxious to grab some Louvre maps and make our way through the museum.
"Mom. Let's just find the Mona Lisa. Then we can each head off on our own."
"That sounds fine," I responded. That way I could take my time looking at whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted.
The maps were incredibly hard to follow. Unless you have a Fine Arts degree how can you possibly know which century you want to look at? Aside from knowing that I wanted to view 16th and 17 French art, antiques and furniture, I wasn't sure what century the various artists lived in.
How could I possibly know what date Titian painted "Venus Rising From The Sea" or what date "Winged Victory" would inhabit? Even then, would I choose the date she was discovered or the era in which she was sculpted?
It took hours for us to locate the Mona Lisa. There was such a crowd in the small alcove surrounding her that we couldn't even get close.
Sad fact was, I couldn't find the cord to my digital Fuji pocket camera my son had so graciously gifted me with before we left home. So I only had so much battery power.
"Take two photos of everything, Mom. Then choose the better picture of the two."
"I can't. My battery is fading", I said.
So I had to choose carefully the works of art I wanted to capture on film.
Victor, a photographer par excellence, was going off on his own. I had to make every photo I took count. They had to be works or artists I particularly longed to see in person, like Fragonard's, or Van Eyck's.
So much art! So little time! So little camera juice!
I spent about five hours trying to find the section which housed the Fragonards. My favorite painter of all time had inspired the modus operandi of my entire life with "Portrait of a Young Girl Reading". I saw it at the age of ten in the Washington, D.C. National Museum of Art.
Photo Credit: C. Clark Copyright 2015@
