Even I cannot escape Louis Vuitton

The Louis Vuitton Foundation Museum was at the middle of the green space in paris–it was so big! I had no idea it was there, but it's heavily wooded and smells of chlorophyll, with lakes and ponds and rowboats to rent.

And oh my goodness the architecture is incredible. 

The whole building is a giant billowing flock of sails with a beautiful shimmery look, but also with transparency for looking from the inside to the out. It's surrounded by a pool of water, fed by a series of cascading waterfall steps that create waves tumbling down towards the pool and in the direction in which the sails are pushed, adding to the illusion of lightness and motion in the building.

The building is very lightly colored (I have no idea how they will clean it), with light colored laminated wood arches supporting the 'sails'. 

The inside is also a very light shade close to white, and at the entrance a large role in silver and pink is on the floor. There are glowing lamp fish weaving their way across a different plane, above us. It smells of new paper–lots of printed guides are waiting for the influx of visitors who deposit their umbrellas at the coat station and spread out into the various sections of the building. The museum just opened the previous October, and everything still feels shiny and new. 

We really only had time for one of the exhibits in the museum, the feature called "The Keys to Passion". There is a permanent collection, but we missed it this time around. They keys was divided into several 'Acts'. I'll only touch on a few of the pieces that interested me...

The Otto Dix portrait

This across was known for scandalous nude dancing. She was addicted to cocaine, old before her time (she was depicted here at 24 years), and died young. 

The Scream (Edward Munsch)

Practically everyone knows this piece. I'm willing to bet you or one of your family members has this on a coffee mug in the cupboard in a gesture to the agony of a pre-caffeinated morning existence.

The counterpoint to The Scream was a series of fairly disturbing self-images or portraits, all of which pulled away from the viewer, keeping the viewer at a distance purposefully–by sheer force of emotion or by simply checking out. 

After this abrupt and jolting entry to the exhibit, we were fed into the "contemplation room". 

The story behind a piece of artwork matters–it feeds into its meaning, and connects you into the network of impact it has had over the years, emotionally demonstrating why it has lasted, becoming a timeless demonstration of a facet of humanity... The story is equally as important for portraits (as with the Otto Dix portrait which began the whole exhibit) as it is for landscapes. Monet's waterlilies are very famous and numerous, but they mean more when you know he painted these obsessively at the end of his life, as his vision was failing... you have more to look for, and think you can see the progression throughout this period of his life reflected in the art; they become a set to be viewed together, a thought process extended over time and lifespan, condensed for you to see all at once.

It was easier to connect with the Monet paintings because I knew this, than with the Finnish landscapes, quadrupled with subtle variations on one view, because I didn't know the significance of the scene. 

The landscapes in the contemplation room were followed by more abstract pieces–the primary colors and shapes you imagine snooty art people seriously nodding their heads at, deriving meaning that isn't there from arbitrary composition. I didn't connect well with these. 

In the popular art section, words began to come into paintings, and artists started to use photo montage techniques. These to me seemed less focused, throwing more information at the viewer at once, and perhaps shallower. They were, perhaps, attempting to throw too much in at once, failing to give the viewer an idea to hold onto, a paradigm through which to view the era or scene depicted. 

The final room was the music room. There were some very interesting 1910s pieces that seemed to reflect the business of the modern information age... There is a story there, but it changes direction many, many times, and displays two moments at once (in the manner of futurist painting), so it takes a moment to see the big picture. It felt very relevant to today; the other pieces–not so much. 

Lulu and I carried on an interesting discussion through these exhibits, concerning the aura of art and the effect on that 'aura' of the mechanical reproduction of that art. Is there an individual interaction between each viewer and the artist, or something more universal? Is the artist depicting for a viewer at all? If an original and forgery are physically identical, could you'll which was a forgery with the two side by side? Is the 'aura' something we ourselves create with the story we hold in our minds when we view it and the continuity we imagine it to have? (For more contemplation on this topic, read Walter Benjamin, "The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction" from 1936.)

Does it make a difference to "getting" the piece if you're in its (legitimate) presence? 

Lulu and Yaya seemed to think so–they told me their story of seeing Michelangelo's David. Yay talked about see the David, and feeling like David was stalking Goliath, sure of the outcome, and almost casual about it. This feeling clicked for them in seeing it in person, and affected them deeply. 

After exiting the Keys to Passion, we went up to the terrace to see the view–high vantage points seem to be a theme of our trip. It was breathtaking. Not only could we see the whole green park laid out around us, a ship within a forest, we could see the omnipresent Eiffel Tower through the gaps in the 'sails'. 

It's covered, but it feels so open.

The omni-present Eiffel Tower. It looked a lot bigger in person.

Hard to tell you're in a city!

Such amazing angles.

On our way out, we passed a few miscellaneous pieces of art: one a living piece featuring decomposition and growth, and another a reproduction of the Thinker in miniature, watching a video reproduction of the Thinker... (A meta 'aura' interference of mechanical reproduction in different mediums of an absent original?)

We caught the electric shuttle back to the Arch of Triumph. 

There was a very dramatic French flag hanging from it. The arch itself is filled with WWI, WWII, 1892 (Franco-Prussian), and Algerian war memorials. 

We took a walk down the shopping street and went back to the apartment for bread and cheese and a beautiful apricot jam Lulu & Yaya had been given earlier in their trip. Cheese from the alps + apricot jam = food heaven. 

Red! The blood of angry men!
 Black! The dark of ages past!

They took me back to the bus station and we just made it (as usual), despite planning ahead to leave early. I love those two–there are so many things I admire about them, especially their love for travel. It was good to see family.

The bus missed the ferry, and we had to wait, delaying our arrival in Victoria Station by 3.5 hours. The delay did mean we got to see the sun rise on the white cliffs of Dover though, so that was nice. 

I'm so glad I got to join Lulu and Yaya in Paris– I had an amazing time and some equally awesome discussions about art and culture and depictions and food!