Doug's Adventure Begins!

I think the saying JAI VOOO DRAAAAAA (with a slight southern drawl) sums up my cultural experience for this past week. It might sound funny in the face of all the enriching places we have been, but it makes sense because I would like so many things! I pretty much want to buy every little cookie or jacket that peers longingly out at me from the storefront windows, and more importantly, I would like to really interact with French people without being intimidated. But much like the “americanness” of my accent I can’t seem to communicate my desires to get a clear understanding of French customs. I actually kind of like when waiters make fun of our pronunciations because it tends to lighten the mood dramatically! Humor has definitely proven to be the best vehicle in connecting with the locals. Laughing seems to transcend our deviations and bring us back to our sameness—when something is funny (like Nicole’s dance moves) it doesn’t matter if you are French or American, or say  JAI VOOO DRAAA instead of Je voudrais s’il vous plait, we are all just looking for a good laugh.

On Wednesday of last week I split apart from the group and went on a tiny adventure of my own. I took the metro to Tuileries, and wondered through the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries to take pictures of the huge purple irises that are blooming all along the wide open pathways and fountains. I also got some ice cream at a really swanky hotel off rue de Revoli, but unfortunately I asked for hazelnut instead of vanilla—I hate hazelnut ice cream! After that I made my way down to Palais Royal, and in typical Doug fashion, I walked right by it and got lost for a long time. But when I managed to become un-lost, I was pleasantly surprised. Last semester I took an installation art class, and I remembered talking about a work by Daniel Buren that is installed in one of the courtyards of Palais Royal, so I figured might as well go see it in person. The piece is simply a bunch of different sized stone columns with black and white stripes (which is Daniel Buren’s specialty) laid out in a grid-like formation. I didn’t really understand the work when I first studied it last semester, but actually seeing it changed everything. The way the sunlight works with the columns in casting shadows across the courtyard floor was really interesting. Also there were tons of little kids! They were jumping off the columns, and climbing up the larger ones while their friends all screamed and laughed, trying to get them to jump. Everyone was having a great time! Even the parents were interacting with the columns. I found it really interesting how a simple artwork like this could bring so much joy to both the art community as well as the local community. I would highly recommend going if you are interested in both public and installation art, because it is a pretty good example of how an artwork can be more than just something you admire from a distance. Paris has been absolutely mind blowing, and I absolutely love every place we have been so far. I am very much looking forward to the rest of this amazing trip!

Whoops #1

Usually when I think of surrealism I think of melting clocks and body parts in places that they shouldn’t be. So when I came on this trip my expectations proved to be very different than the surreal reality. Of course the days leading up to my flight to the Charles De Gaulle Airport I was nervous and shaky, never knowing how to answer the question “oh my gosh you’re almost gone for Paris are you so excited?”, but when the wheels touched down in France I went numb. A record in my head just began playing, “you’re in Paris, you don’t speak French, you’re in Paris”. For some reason this record didn’t make what I was experiencing seem any more real. Clearly no matter how I approached the situation, my lack of knowledge and affinity for the French language was very apparent. As the days went on I picked up what any American in Paris would memorize; things like “bonjour”, “pardon”, “merci” and so forth. For me these little feats of saying everyday pleasantries was like finishing in the middle of a race, not too bad but not too great...until I stumbled; apparently it confuses French cashiers at markets when you say bonjour at the end of your transaction instead of an appropriate “merci”. 

In a foreign country everyone is bound to have their fair share of language or cultural faux pas’ to bring you back to reality and to remind you that you are not in fact, a local. Even with my constant language slip ups I still felt as if I was watching a movie of someone traveling in Paris. This movie was getting tiring and I wanted to get out and actually feel and experience what was out there to feel. No more surrealism. My epiphany came one day when I was sitting outside at a cafe in what seemed like a more “unique” part of Paris. I felt very grown up and sophisticated as I sat there observing the glamorous couples in tight white pants and mesh shirts. Unexpectedly I saw two young girls, about eight, and a boy about the same age with one of their mothers, come up to the corner of the cafe. I watched the boy wave goodbye as he turned to leave and walk in the other direction from the group. Apparently the boy and I shared the same tendency of cultural slip ups as one of the little girls grabbed him by the shoulders and scolded him in French. I thought this was odd, the boy seemed nice enough, clean, nice hair, friendly smile but then he proceeded to kiss each girl on either cheek before he began to walk away for the second time. And thats when the fog lifted. I realized that I am in a real city, with real people. Even though the real people seem like actors with their mysterious language, they actually exist and function under a set of cultural and human rules. Going forth with this incredible opportunity I will remember the individuality of not only the people I meet but the country and culture itself, and maybe I’ll throw in a couple bonjours when they’re not expecting it.

An Afternoon Under the Eiffel Tower

After our visit to the catacombs, we found ourselves with a free afternoon and sunny weather. After a week of what seemed like constant walking and moving Charlotte and I thought it would be nice to do some good ol’ American vegging out. Robin joined us, and we got a few baguettes, apples, and a blanket and headed to one of the many lawns under the Eiffel Tower to relax. As an obvious tourist attraction, there were people of all origins and ages. Occupying all corners of the grass were couples laying together fervently kissing, families picnicking, and groups of teenagers running around spraying each other with water bottles. It was a pleasant surprise to see that there were many French people there as well, and that the natives hadn’t been altogether driven off by the crowds of foreigners taking selfies with the Eiffel tower or having the very original idea of making an optical illusion of them pushing it over. My favorite part of that day was when a little girl about two wandered away from her parents who were distracted by their intimacy and came over to hang out with us. She was the perfect age when people are two parts squishy and one part curious. “C’est ca?” she said over and over as she picked up various objects; our sunglasses, our water bottle, our bread, etc. It was the most intense vocab quiz we had gotten thus far in France, but it was wonderful because if we messed up she wouldn’t judge us or scoff at us for our poor French. After her parents called her away (to our disappointment) she managed to wander away a second time as they continued to cuddle and kiss, this time finding a little French boy about five. They had a great time together playing cars, playing fetch with a pink ball with the little boys mother like puppies for about an hour straight, and playing tag. When they tired the little girl went with the little boy for a snack, and the French lady held the little girl on her lap and shared their food. Later the five-year-old boy went and babbled at his new friend’s parents while the little girl ate his food with his mom. It was so cool the way the mom treated the little girl like they had been friends for a long time, and when they parted the little girl screamed and cried at having to leave her new friend. This experience showed me that kids will always help create bonds between people and that even though the French seemed reserved at times, all people interact with the same inherent friendliness and curiosity in their youth. 

Narrative #1

After finding a restaurant that served huge tasty salads (just what we had been craving) Elizabeth and I wandered up a vertical stone staircase that we hoped would lead us to Sacre Coeur. Ten minutes later and completely out of breath, we were faced with sounds of laughter and talk that filled a square of restaurants and bars. We continued on towards the white dome we saw peaking over buildings in Montmartre until we reached a crowd much larger and seemingly more drunk than where we had just walked from. Bizarre light-up toys spiraled through the air and green lazer pointers shined on the massive church; a sign of desperate vendors attempting to showcase their cheap toys. We decided to take a seat on the wide steps where over 100 people we eating, drinking and talking. I overheard many conversations in various languages (French, English, German, Chinese, etc.). The sun was beginning to set so the sky was a radiant blue. A man with an out of tune acoustic gutair was quietly strumming and singing terribly. Eizabeth and I named him Fabio because of his long brown hair and bad singing voice. To everyone's joy, Fabio's singing was suddenly overpowered by two strong African-American men who began to play the guitar and sing Reggae music. We all began clapping in unison as the main singer shouted "YUAAH! RASTA MAN!" They had so much energy and happiness that radiated from their smiles and music. As Elizabeth and I were about to leave to go home, the older man asked us to stay with them for a little longer. I began speaking in French to one of the men who told me his name was Ravi. He lived in North Africa his whole life until he moved to Paris about 10 years ago. He kept telling me how refreshing it was to see Elizabeth and I smile because he feels people don't smile enough in Paris. We spent the next hour dancing to the music - I felt my heartbeat matched by the rhythm of the steel drums until we said our goodbyes and walked home.

The Metro.

The metro. Every metro is the same. A place of comfort and discomfort. Escalators. Elevators. Stairs, stairs, stairs. The metro is a rush with so many interruptions. Slow walkers. Spontaneous sprinters. Suitcases. Baby carriers. Too many things in my way. Fragrant flowers, buttery pastries, and stagnant urine.

The anthem of the metro: a musical score of small cups filled with change, intercoms, and the shrieking sounds of metal on metal.  There are too many people to the point where it's overwhelming. There are too little people to the point where it's lonely. 

Sleeping on the metro. Then a woman comes in and stands in front of you. She sings beautiful from a microphone clearly from the 90s. But we are all sleeping.

The occasional small child on the metro sitting on a chair but when the metro stops the child goes flying. They need seat belts on the metro. The metro is not made for small children.

It is a great place to people watch and observe mannerisms. So many personalities. 25% tolerable. 75% intolerable.

No one looks directly into your eyes on the metro. They usually stare at the ground, at the wall, at their shoes, at the random corner of a shopping bag, or they are sleeping and avoiding all eye contact. 

Note to self: don't smile at anyone on the metro they'll think you are crazy.

Oh Metro, 

Although you make me uncomfortable, you take me to comfortable destinations. Thank you metro.

Cultural Narrative 1- week 1

Having been in Paris for over a week, I have observed a couple incidents that have captured some of the main differences between French and American culture. Most notably is the conversation volume level. I find most French exchanges to almost be in whispers. It is so much more pleasant to be in extreme public places (ex: the metro) when people are not obliviously shouting and being obnoxiously rambunctious. There is a degree of respect amongst the French for not agitating each other, which is not present in the US. Being in New York City, one can easily see how loud and publically vulgar people are, seemingly unaware to their surroundings (children walking by, the elderly, someone trying to read). Where as on the metro, a French man\woman will quietly answer a phone call and then quickly hang up, close their eyes or silently read for the duration of their ride. I have also noticed that manners and class seem to permeate all social statuses here. All walks of life in France are very attuned to manners, where in America, even college aged gentlemen will be severely lacking. The metro is where I have observed most cultural differences, as I spend most of my time watching people while riding to my destination. Men without hesitation will give their seat to a standing woman, something I find basic, but a nearly forgotten art back home. The French also (pretty much without fail) excuse themselves for bumping into someone or even for rushing by. My favorite difference between the French and Americans is the amount of pride one takes in their appearance here. The public self is clearly held at high regards. Women and men alike look clean, up to date in their fashion, and very well put together. It is obvious that they take pride in their physical appearance, even with all the amazing food here, it is hard pressed to find someone overweight. Everyone is moving, I always see people jogging or using a bike as means of transportation, and it shows in how fit the French population is. This is something I wish the French could enlighten the bulk of Americans about, taking pride in your appearance.

Cultural Blog #1!

We all know the metro is a dirty, smelly place, but I always thought it was the work of homeless people or animals. It wasn't until last weekend I realized how wrong and biased my thoughts were. On Saturday June 1, 2013 at approximately 1:00 am, Laurelle, Lea and I were waiting to get on the metro. It was late at night in a popular area of town, so the metro was surprisingly crowded. People were running through the metro as though it was a jungle gym, knocking over trash cans; the sort of behavior one would expect to see on the hill. While a little shocked at this new side of Parisian life, we were quite amused. Many people were casually smoking cigarettes, holding beers, one girl was even drinking out of a wine bottle. As we stood there watching the show in front of us we heard the faint sound of running water. As this is an usual sound in the metro, we all turned around to see a man blatantly peeing on the wall. The shock value only increased when we saw what he was wearing. Picture your stereotypical European: expensive pointie toed shoes; dark jeans questionably painted on; leather jacket; button down tucked in; burberry scarf and perfectly groomed hair. Upon finishing he turned around and sauntered back to his friends. It was the opposite of what I was expecting, especially after our orientation about how disinclined to alcoholic behavior Parisians are. Strangely this experience made me feel more relaxed in Paris as I saw the intimidatingly composed and classy nature of the French slip a little.

Another benchmark in getting to know the guys at our local boucherie, I felt the effects of the metric system. Communicating quite well (I thought so at least) I ask for the meat and he asks me how many grams. My jaw goes slack and eyes blank. How many grams? I have no idea! Abandoning my infant-level french, I just exclaim, "I dont know grams!" to which he begins to laugh. "Pounds! you Americans and your pounds!" I am glad this guy likes me or else I doubt he would have laughed so heartily. I tell him it is for 3 people and he gives what he thinks would work. Three burgers later, Luke, LeDoog and I crack up at my idiocy. Whatever, I'm workin' on it.

Beautiful image, Luke, and a cool little narrative — sounds like you're making headway by connecting with skaters...

So far Paris has been awesome. I have done my best to emerge myself into the Parisian culture by reading up on the cities history and attempting to make friends with locals. While doing this I have realized that I have one problem, I do not speak any French. When I do try to speak the language I know that my pronunciation is terrible, for example waiters will mock me when I order saying "Ze Vo Drey".  Realizing that this may be a problem I tried to connect with Parisians with something that is more universal, something that I love and is loved all over the world. . .skateboarding. While walking along the Seine I stumbled across some skaters hanging out in a plaza. Excited, I walked over and began to start a conversation with one of them. I asked if I could take pictures of them doing tricks and he said sure. We then began to talk the skateboard talk and he asked me where I was from. After telling him that I was form Los Angeles we instantly bonded since LA is responsible for the creation of skateboarding. After I snapped a few pics he told me where a local skate shop was so that I could pick up a board and start riding around Paris. We then said our goodbyes. I pan on going to this skate shop very soon. 

Aloft Art by Amy: The drain and the maid

Aloft Art by Amy: The drain and the maid: When I told the maid downstairs, who cleans occasionally before 9 am, that my drain needed a drain cleaner, "Debouchage! Debouchage!&qu...

Hello Julia,

Nice work and a good start to what I hope to be a stream of narration from all 12. An interesting photograph given the content of the email! I love your insight into this incident with those much younger than you. Sounds like you are already pretty savvy about this wonderful city and country.

Eiffel Tower

So far Paris has been great! I haven't had many experiences where Parisians were rude to me, which is reassuring. I have been able to use my french a little, but most everyone can speak English here. However, on Sunday, June 2nd, Carly and I went to this ledge spot that overlooks the Eiffel Tower to take pictures. It was a gorgeous, clear day. I politely asked these boys to move so we could take our picture. When we were all finished with our pictures, the boys came up to me and asked to take a picture of me. They seemed like they were younger than me, and in America, I feel you only ask to take a picture with someone if they are famous or funny looking. I agreed, and after the photo was taken, I turned around to keep taking pictures of the beautiful monument. After looking at the picture and saying "merci" they walked off. I looked at Carly and gave her a "that was weird" look. The boys returned again and asked for my number. One of the boys was giggling. I told them that my phone does not work in France, which isn't true. I forgot to mention, this was all in french! The two boys did not know any English. They also didn't know that I was from the States. This gave me a clue that they were not from Paris or a very touristy part of France. One boy then asked if I had a Facebook. I said yes, but that I had a boyfriend. Their response: "Est-ce qu'il est français?". When I said no, I was handed a phone and told to type in my name. I've learned that the french are persistent and are also very entertaining.

Neoclassicism & Romanticism to Moreau-2

Hi everyone,

I have uploaded the Powerpoint from class on Friday to
Course Materials, same place the readings are. I am working on completing
agenda for tomorrow, if not by 9, certainly by 1 — required readings that is;
many more useful readings are on the blog that concern the artists included in
the course. I will talk more about this tomorrow in class as well as plan presentations.

I will be away from email for about 4 hours, then back on around 9 pm or so.
BTW: for those asking me about the history of the Louvre itself, there is an entire
gallery devoted to that topic inside the Louvre.

Take care,

Frances

Bienvenus!

Welcome dear ART-IN FRANCE students,

Here is one of our cyber homes during our visit in la douce France.

Please post personal cultural narratives here and any images that you find lovely

curious and/or compelling or information on fashion shows, art, dance, performance, music and magic unique to Paris.

À bientôt !