Un livre d'historique

I asked for a book on the history of the Louvre today, and I did it all in French. I was at the Louvre, so, you know, it made sense. But I got directed first to a different store and then to an information counter and then to a different person and finally to a book. Each time I was understood and each time the clerks answered me in French. I know they speak English, but they really went out of their way to respond to my French and I was able to understand the directions they gave me. It was satisfying and left me impressed with myself. It's the best I've done with French so far. I felt respected for my efforts.

I bought the book. It's interesting. I bought it because I've been thinking a lot in the last few days about the fact that Louise Farrenc lived in the Louvre as a child. There were artists living in the Louvre in the latter part of the 18th century, up to and during the Revolution. Napoleon seems to have evicted them around 1808. Louise Farrenc, née Dumont, came from a long tradition of artists, primarily sculptors. She would have been four years old in 1808. Her brother, Auguste Dumont, who would become an important 19th century sculptor, would have been eight years old. The family moved from the Louvre to the Sorbonne.

The Louvre was a museum, but it was also kind of like an art school and kind of like a commune of artists. It must have been rather amazing. All of this is just beginning to register. I had a lengthy conversation last night with a friend about the fact that Louise's family lived in the Louvre and that Gericault spent about six years going to the Louvre regularly to copy the work of the masters.

I want to make sense of the building's history, the story of the space. I think I'm going to stage a scene in the Louvre for my book. I felt it today. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but I had a very strong feeling of what it might have been like to walk up and down the stairs without it being an organized, public space, but rather wild, almost like an art wilderness, or something.

The Academy held its first Salon at the Louvre in 1699. The French Academy was established in the Louvre even before Louis XIV moved the Court to Versailles in 1674. The Salons were all held at the Louvre. I hadn't realized that until just recently. And Molière performed theatre in one of the salles at the Louvre. What a fascinating place it must have been.

At first, the Louvre was decorated for the Royalty. Ceilings were painted in Baroque design. All that. Then in 1692 a collection of antiques were moved into the Louvre for display. It wasn't until 1767 that the idea of turning The Louvre into a museum was pursued. That was in the reign of Louis XV who had taken up residence in the Palace of Tuileries, which no longer exists. It was burned down in the uprising of 1871. The Palace of Tuileries was standing in 1830, however.  It belongs in my book. Right now I have a scene from the July Revolution that takes place in the courtyard of the Louvre. I need to go back to my research and figure out exactly where, but it's very near the Palais Royal, which is just across the street from the Louvre.

We were at the Louvre for about four hours today for my Art History class. We spent the time looking at Renaissance art, first from the Italian Renaissance, both its origins with pieces like Botticelli's Three Graces all the way to the height of the Renaissance with works like the Mona Lisa. We also looked at a lot of Northern Renaissance art, mostly from Flanders. I didn't find that as interesting, but I did like being at the Louvre. It was my fourth or fifth trip back and I'm getting pretty good at finding my way around. (The picture is looking up from inside into the pyramid and the outdoors.)

Earlier in the day, we visited the Rodin Museum. Actually, that was for a different class. I'm taking two art history classes. We saw the original "Thinker." It's a small museum, but one room is dedicated to the work of Camille Claudel. I've been told by a number of artists whom I respect that Claudel not only inspired Rodin, but contributed, literally to much of Rodin's work. She was his model, his confidante and his lover, though he never left his wife.

After an unwanted abortion, Claudel ended her relationship with Rodin and pretty much flipped out. She destroyed many of her statues. Amy, our intrepid instructor didn't seem to have much good to say about Claudel, which I found frustrating. We don't exactly see eye-to-eye on all things art. Her explanations are a bit too academically conservative for my taste, and her history is often over-simplified to accomplish a tilt in a certain direction. She dismissed Claudel as an imitator of Rodin and said her images of embrace were "obsessive."

From the garden you can see the golden dome of Les Invalides in the background. We walked from there all the way to the Eiffel Tower, about a mile along windy Paris streets. Eventually it rained. It's definitely beginning to feel like winter. But, as I said in an earlier entry, I like the weather. Something about the rain and dark clouds makes it feel more like the 19th century to me. It's as if I find the bad weather familiar somehow.