The reason why this simple picture of the Basilique of the Sacré Cœur (Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris) speaks to me is because it represents the careful balance between preserving the past and living in the present that France seems to have figured out. The basilica was built in 1914 and consecrated in 1919, however the idea to build a basilica on Montmartre originated in 1870 after both a French defeat in the Franco – Prussian war and during the Paris Commune uprisings that lasted for a year. The belief at the time was that the French lost the Franco – Prussian war because God had abandoned them for their wicked ways and that by building a place of worship on the area known as the “Mount of Martyrs,” God would return to France and aid them in future wars. However, at the same time, many new inventions and concepts around math and science were being introduced to France at the same time. The fact that these two very different ideals could coexist so easily speaks to France’s ability to manage both the old and the new. Currently, the balance has to be struck between retaining rich history and keeping up with current technological advances; however the coexisting of different notions is something that comes up throughout the history of France. It is that coexistence of the past and the present that the Basilique of the Sacré Cœur reminds me of every time that I look at it.
Visiting the Louvre was one of my top things we did in Paris. The whole visit was amazing. Not only was the Louvre filled with some of the best paintings and sculptures ever made, but the building itself has a rich history and is absolutely gorgeous. The Louvre also was a palace, which is good for my project comparing châteaux to urban palaces!
My first photograph is of the Italian painting hallway which ranged from the 13th to 17th centuries. The paintings stretch all the way down the hallway, which is less than half as long as the entire length of the museum, just to put it in perspective. It was interesting to walk the length of the hallway examining the paintings through the centuries. Of course while we were in the Louvre, we had to visit the Mona Lisa, which is in my second photograph.
Although the room had many paintings on the walls, it was obvious that Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece and the painting opposing it, Veronese’s The Wedding Feast at Cana, were the main attractions. Everyone wanted to get as close as possible to the Mona Lisa, which is no larger than the signs on either side of it warning people of pick-pockets, to take photographs of the most photographed painting in the world. This picture in my blog post is not a close up of the Mona Lisa, but one of the room containing it. I found the number of people who flocked to the painting amazing. Through the hubbub, I could hear small bits of conversations in many languages. People from all over the world were there to gaze upon Leonardo’s painting. Although some people were obviously just there because the painting is famous, others did seem to view it critically. So what is truly amazing to me is how people from many different nations and cultures have an appreciation for the same art. The visual arts, much like music, are a universal language that everyone can enjoy regardless of who you are. In my first photo, the museum visitors stretch off into the distance just as far as the paintings. The visual arts are very important to all of us. They preserve cultures by encasing them inside canvases and chiseled stone, whether it’s French sailing ships, Italian feasts, or Roman gods, but art itself also becomes part of the cultures. So before this post becomes too long and goes into territory that has been explored many times before by great minds, I wanted to summarize why these two photographs are so interesting to me. Being at the Louvre, I saw people from all over the world interested in the same things, in a way that I’ve never seen before, and I thought these photos captured that.
Some of my fellow travelers have thoughtfully incorporated meaningful quotes into their posts. So here is the first quote that popped up on a Google search for “Art quotes”
“A line is a dot that went for a walk” – Paul Klee
There you have it.
Our Piette program travelers have taken a departure from the traditional school trip to France to explore an extremely ancient part of our past. This began early in our stay in Paris when we rode the train to Saint-Germain-en-Laye, an affluent suburb northwest of the metropolis. The curator of the Musee Nacional d’Archeologie spent considerable time showing us their oldest collections–those on exhibit as well as behind the scenes. Most notable was the Piette Room discussed in my earlier post. Despite the extensive collections of stone tools, carved bone and ivory, as well as numerous examples of Magdalenian portable art dating from 10 to 12 thousand years ago or earlier the highlight for many of the students was a visit to the roof of the royal castle that houses the museum. This is not surprising, as this part of our past lacks written sources and is enigmatic and inaccessible for even those diehard students of prehistory. In some ways that trip to the castle roof is a metaphor for this inaccessibility. The tools and carvings and decorated chunks of cave walls belong to a subterranean underworld inhabited by long dead people and their even more extinct animal muses standing in stark contrast to the bright blue sky, breeze, and sweeping panorama seen from atop a castle just a few hundred years old. How can we access the human world of 10, 12 or even 15 thousand years ago when WWII and the events of D-Day just 70 years ago begin to recede from us? Are the people of the Paleolithic lost to us or can they be recovered by going to them, to the cavern landscape of the Dordogne and the Midi-Pyrenees?
After our encounter with the beaches of Normandy and the American Cemetery we traveled to Les Eyzies, arriving at the Musee National de Prehistoire at the end of an international conference on Magdalenian portable art and a new temporary exhibit on the subject. Important pieces of carved and engraved bone and mammoth ivory were assembled for the exhibit, uniting a handful of tiny artifacts from different caves for comparison. We had seen some of these artifacts a week earlier in Saint-Germain-en-Laye. For example, in one case the famous antler carving of a bison licking its side from La Madeleine rock shelter was exhibited alongside a similar carving. The carving is truly magnificent and would be at home on a Pablo Picasso canvas. Despite the excitement and energy surrounding the exhibit, however, our connection with the makers was incomplete. What happened so long ago that caused people who had never carved antler or decorated caves to do so? Was this great awakening a neurological shift, as some have suggested? And why does the abstract quality of these drawings, engravings, paintings, and carvings appeal to our modern aesthetic?
Our next step back into the Upper Paleolithic took us even closer to the Cro Magnon realm: the caves. Our first cave visit was Grotte de Rouffignac. Visitors board a small train for an hour long tour–the train helps protect the decorated walls and helps limit the duration of each visit. Evidence of cave bears–both innumerable scratches on the walls and “nests” used for hibernation are evidence that the cave was used well before the engravings and manganese drawings of mammoths, rhinoceros, ibex, horse, and bison were added some 10 to 12 thousand years ago. What is most striking is the intentionality in evidence. Drawings of animals were often made with one confident and sweeping line, defining rump, back and head. But beyond this, the placement shows that the makers had conceived of their design and then executed it, grouping species or placing drawings in a frieze below a layer of projecting chert nodules. But the bears and ancient artists were not the last visitors to Rouffignac; much of the cave ceiling has been defaced by those who crawled in the cave from as early as the 16th century, largely unaware of the depictions. A visit the following day for a very animated tour of the main exhibits in the Musee National de Prehistoire added context to the Rouffignac Cave–one exhibit is a cast of a wooly rhinoceros preserved by salt and crude oil deposits in Poland, displayed with a skull and the cave art outline. It’s still hard to imagine the intrepid souls who crawled into these caves armed with their manganese crayons and flickering oil lamps, working their way deep into caverns to lie on their backs to execute a fabulous bestiary of the last ice age. Images that were perhaps never meant to be shared, were it not for our modern drive to hollow out these spaces and illuminate the images with electric lamps.
A visit to the Grotte Font-de-Gaume brought our group face to face with polychrome cave paintings not unlike those at the famous and now closed Lascaux cave. Too many visitors are bad for caves. Our guide told me that in the 1960s they had over 1,000 visitors a day. Now visitation is capped at 80 per day in an attempt to control the cool microclimate within the cave. At Font-de-Gaume some 15 thousand years ago cave artists mixed multi-colored paint to illustrate mammoths, horses, reindeer and other ice age animals. In one scene–and there are most certainly scenes here–a reindeer bends gently forward and licks the antlers of another reindeer, perhaps a mating ritual. Here the depictions of these creatures draws on the natural shapes of the cave walls and draperies. In at least one case a natural declivity in the cave became the eye of a bison. But leaving the cave our guide beckons us to bend down to examine one last remarkable decoration: the silhouette of a human hand made with black paint. But this is not a signature, the hand print may predate the artwork by some 10 thousand years. Another enigma!
The so-called troglodyte dwellings of the Neolithic pock mark the limestone and chalk cliffs of the Dordogne and give some hint to the significant relationship between the people of this area and the rock. Even during the Neolithic some 5 or 6 thousand years ago caves and rock shelters were used for dwellings. People of the region are still proud of their relationship to the rocks and caverns
These past two days have been nothing short of amazing.
At this point in our trip, we’re embarking on the archaeological and prehistorical portion of our itinerary. While we have been staying in the medieval town of Sarlat and enjoying the rich history and culture there, we have been commuting each day to les Eyzies in order to study prehistory.
After Normandy, we spent a short amount of time in Blois, in the Loire Valley, exploring castles and chateaux and noting the transition from the medieval to the renaissance styles in France. Two mornings ago, we boarded our big red bus and drove about six hours into the countryside.
We arrived in les Eyzies-de-Tayac at 14h to attend the opening of an exhibition of Magdalenian art at the Musée National de Préhistoire. Standing in the reception area, my eight trip mates and I received some perplexed looks from the specialists attending the opening (the youngest of whom was at least 20 years older than us). The museum curators and staff were ecstatic to know that the such young people were interested in a field usually attractive to older people. We were ecstatic too, particularly when they started passing out fresh macaroons.
The exhibition was introduced in short speeches by the director of the museum and a government official. Complete with video simulations and glass cases detailing the different pieces of Magdalenian art the museum had collected, the new exhibition was a hit. Small glass cases contained fragments of bone and stone decorated with carvings of animals and delicate designs. We wandered from case to case, examining the precious specimens along with some of the leading archaeologists in the world. Because the world of archeology is so small, we also got to catch up with some specialists we had met at the Musée d’Archaeology National, which we visited on the second day of our trip.
The next day, we spent the morning and early afternoon exploring Sarlat. In the late afternoon, we drove into the countryside past les Eyzies to reach le Grotte de Rouffignac.
Tucked into the hillside, Rouffignac is not notable at first sight. A small opening in the side of a mountain, the entrance to Rouffignac could be easily missed. Stepping inside, the first thing I noticed was the change in temperature. While the outside air had been a balmy 85 degrees, even the first cavern of the cave system felt a good 15 degrees cooler.
A small desk was set up in the first cavern, where a kind lady lent us sweaters and handed us our tickets. Fifteen minutes later, after we had a chance to peruse the available gift shop plunder and read some background information on the caves, an older French gentleman led us into the second cavern of the Grotte, where the temperature dropped again. He closed an iron door behind us, and we were plunged briefly into darkness before the dim lights were illuminated. Walking into the back of this cavern, we boarded a tiny train that would motor us a kilometer into the rock.
My first impression of this train and the cave was that it looked like a scene from one of the Harry Potter movies, in which Harry and his faithful cohorts board a train in Gringott’s Bank to access Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. For the Harry Potter fans reading this, you may agree with me in that this scene is one of the most epic in the movie: our favorite trio zip through cavernous caves with mind-blowing rock formations and dripping stalactites. Traveling through the Grotte was a comparable experience.
Our guide narrated to us the story of the formation of the passageway by an underground river as we rolled through cavern after cavern. The majority of the walls were covered in scratch marks from an extinct species of cave bear whose circular nests were still intact in the caves.
As we travelled deeper, we began to see traces of human life – finger markings on the ceiling, some faint outlines of wooly mammoths. Soon it seemed every cavern held some drawing – wooly mammoths, wooly rhinoceros, bisons, and horses were depicted in incredible detail. In the farthest cavern, the entire ceiling was covered in drawings, which the people of the Neolithic era would have painted lying on their backs (several years ago, the owners of the cave extended the floor of that cavern to allow for the preservation and viewing of such works).
What was remarkable about these paintings, asserted our guide, was that they were never made to really be seen. The artists themselves would likely never have been able to behold their drawings in full, lying on their backs so close to the ceiling. Art for the sake of art.
This image is one from today – just outside the Font de Gaume cave. While we were not allowed to take photographs in the cave today (or yesterday, for that matter), nobody said anything about photographing the entrance. Doesn’t it look so mysterious?
What baffles me about these caves is that they have not changed for thousands of years: the structures we see today and the experience of walking through the caves is largely similar to the experience someone would have had many thousands of years ago.
Too reach the cave, we climbed about a half kilometer up the steep mountain. The ancient peoples would have had to do the same, yet without the aid of maintained paths and bannisters installed by the keepers of the cave. This photo I took just when we reached the top, staring into the black cave with rock outcroppings hanging overhead.
The image you see here shows the entrance to the cave as the prehistoric men and women would have seen it when they occupied this cave 15,000 years ago.
This cave we traversed exclusively on foot. The passageway was extremely narrow, requiring me to slide sideways and crouch at certain points. The paintings and carvings in this cave were remarkably well preserved. Today, the cave is sealed to the public and climate controlled (we were not allowed to stay in the caves for more than an hour, lest the substances we introduced to the cave deteriorate the images as they did in Lascaux).
Our guide showed us paintings and carvings of reindeer, wooly mammoths, horses, and a feline. Many of these depictions combined painting and carving, with the eyes and eye sockets often carved into the colorful painted animals. Our guide would often turn off the lights in the cave and shine only his flashlight on the work of interest, giving us a sense for the experience a prehistoric person would have had with a simple lamp of animal fat.
The paintings were on several different levels in the cave, and our guide maintained that the people may have used wooden beams to lift them to higher rock faces.
Just before we left the cave, our guide asked us all to crouch down on the stone floor and look up into a small overhanging rock face. There, outlined in black paint, was the clear outline of a hand. Some prehistoric person had placed their hand on that rock and sprayed paint over it to create a negative. Knowing that someone had placed their hand in that exact place was somehow very touching.
Below you will find a picture of a clock in the Musée d’Orsay looking out over the Seine. Now, why is this picture different than the many large and looming clock faces in Impressionist art museums? First, because I also have pictures of me in front of it as a three-year-old art enthusiast, and also from two years ago. One could say that this clock and I have history. But I, like Augustus Waters of “The Fault in Our Stars” fame, “choose my behaviors based on their metaphorical resonances.” So here we go:
The clock is in constant motion, yet it never really changes. Come back twenty-four hours later, and you’ll see its hands in the exact same positions. Meanwhile, through the clock face, and indeed within the museum, everything changes. The people come and go, and the water in the Seine keeps flowing, etc. While we choose with clocks to show time as a circular idea, it does not in fact restart, as evidenced by the different pictures that I unfortunately did not bring in electronic format.
The idea of things withstanding the linear timeline is central to this trip. For millennia, the cave paintings we have seen were embracing the walls of the slowly changing cave. Sure, the paintings have been obscured by calcium and graffiti, but I would argue that the shape and emotion behind the paintings have been conserved. Even in the ruins we saw today, certain walls and major parts of buildings remained standing. Perhaps even more striking was the cave beneath the ruins, which was inhabited by both ancient humans and medieval people.
Anyway, that why I like this clock. As long as it’s not rusting, it could care less about what you had for lunch or whether you live or die for many reasons (not least of which because clocks are not sentient). I admit that this seems morbid, but there are things bigger than everyone, like clocks and time, and I somehow find that comforting.
Last night we ate at a fabulous little restaurant in downtown Sarlat. When we got there we had the choice of sitting outside at separate tables or upstairs and have a table together. Obviously we chose the latter. When we got upstairs we sat down and began reading through the menu. This menu was quite similar to the menu we had the night before, lots of duck and froie gras, and then other down home french classics. Considering the night before I had coq au vin I knew I wanted to have a classic sarlat style meal. Since sarlat is in the region known as Dordogne, duck country, I decided to go for the crispy duck confit.
While my appetizer, goose gizzard salad, was delicious all I could think about was my crispy duck confit. Traditional duck confit is a duck leg cured with salt, garlic, and thyme for ~2 days, after which the salt cure is washed off. Then the duck leg goes into a deep baking dish, with it’s own rendered fat and then it is baked for hours. Typically this is then plated with a salad and sent out to the customer. This is where my dish takes a left turn.
The chef at this restaurant decided to take this slow cooked duck, wrapped it in a phyllo-es que dough and pan fried it. What they brought out was the best thing I have ever eaten.
This photo I took of it only captures the beauty of the dish. It does not show you however how the meat falls off the bone, or how the crispy outer crust contrasts the smooth texture of the duck along with the sticky texture of the onion jam. Or how I did not need to use a knife to cut any part of it. This main course was pure perfection!! Once I had finished eating the complete meal I sat at the table in a food coma replaying the meal in my head. This was probably the best meal I have ever had.
I wish I could eat here all the time…
One of my favorite moments of the trip was during our last day in Paris. It was just a little moment, something that made my day brighter. We had some extra time before we had to meet up with the rest of the group for dinner, so we took a detour to the Love Lock Bridge. We spent about five minutes making fun of the comically large heart-shaped locks, the obviously expensive engraved ones, the ones that the vendors not 10 feet away were shouting about, until someone spoke what a small part of each one of us was thinking. “How many of these do you think have actually lasted?” After a few groans about ruining the moment, someone else said, “but actually though.” We all nodded, facing the depressing truth. But then I saw this little red luggage lock, no bigger than a 1 euro coin, and it made me smile. D and J used whatever lock they could find just to leave their mark…no matter how small.
Now, I’m not a religious person, but I have gained an appreciation for the churches and chapels we’ve seen. I enjoy sitting in the back looking at the architecture, paintings, and detailing. I like the idea of this very quiet and personal space. And I have always liked way stained glass looks, but when it was the right time of day and the sun shone perfectly through the windows, it just became so much more special. The colors reflected on the painting and the floor were so vibrant in the dim space that I had to capture it. It almost felt out of place, but only in the completely right way. I had to stand there a minute to appreciate it.
As you probably know we’re all supposed to write about a picture we took that means something to us; I chose a picture I took in the town of Bayeux. Bayeux is a smallish town in Northern France where the famous Bayeux tapestry is housed. Here’s a picture of the tapestry itself, however, not one that I took. I really like the picture I took because it represents the histories of both France and Great Britain and the picture itself is beautiful. I chose a picture from Bayeux in particular because I am a big fan of British monarchs and I respect William the Conqueror very, very much because he is the last person to invade Britain (except for William III, but he never fought a battle).
I’m a huge Harry Potter fan and so I am sharing the above photo because it reminds me of the beach where Shell Cottage (that’s Bill and Fleur Weasley’s house for all you Muggles) was located. In reality, I took this picture from the top of the Château d’Amboise in the Loire Valley. It’s amazing to me how looking down upon the city of Amboise from the height of a castle had the ability to transport me to a world of magic.
The picture below shows another photo I took from the same lofty château. This photo shows the rooftops of the many buildings below and it transports me back in time to the 16th century. I have had little experience with the type of architecture and communities such as those in the Loire Valley and so I love this picture. The small villages that house these huge chateaus are so cozy. Cars are sparse and streets are winding.
The Piette trip promised to take us back in time so we could experience a bit of what life was like for those in centuries past. Not only has the Piette trip done this but it has also transported me to the places of my imagination.