Now this is another “sculpture” near the Palais Royal that I’m not keen on, because I find it somewhat garish, but I have some (perfectly normal French) friends who think it’s wonderful. It’s the entrance to the Palais Royal metro on Place Colette and it’s called “Le Kiosque des Noctambules” (The Night Revellers’ Kiosk) and was designed and built in 2000 by Jean-Michel Othoniel.
There are two domes made of multicoloured glass balls, one in warm colours with a blown glass figure on top (the sun?) and the other in cold colours with a purple figure on top (the moon?). I checked out the symbolism on my favourite Paris architectural information blog,archeologue.over-blog. It says that the two domes are placed on top of a frame forming an eight (not immediately obvious), which is the symbol of eternity. A little bench at one end is there to welcome night revellers (I must check next time if there are any). The little fence around the bench consists of a series of hammered metal rings incrusted with coloured glass.
When you go down the steps to the metro, you come to the second part of the installation. There are two large circles embedded in the brick wall with coloured beads inside an Art Nouveau surround. The “jewels” apparently blink out at you in the dark corridor. Mystery downstairs, brightness upstairs is the idea it seems. I’ve always found them a little strange personally. I didn’t realise there was any connection with the other part.
I personally prefer Hector Guimardt’s traditional metro entrance in front of the Louvre, built in 1900, but that’s not surprising because I’m a great fan of Art Nouveau.
Imagine my surprise when I looked out the window on 2nd January 2008 to see a pack of wolves in the Palais Royal gardens, made even more realistic by a blanket of snow! Even up close they were pretty convincing. The sculpteur, Olivier Estoppey, had managed to make them look as though they were running. They disappeared after a while and, to my great surprise, turned up again in a French detective film called Le Crime est notre affaire.
It’s because we’re next to the French Ministry of Culture that the Palais Royal gardens are often the site of temporary exhibitions sponsored by an association called Sculptures au Palais Royal. Some, like the wolves, are truly artistic, but most of them are modern sculptures that I personally think are awful. Maybe it’s a question of generation because Thoughtful, who’s 22, thinks they’re wonderful. He likes the contrast between the old and new. Being Australian, I just like the old!
Of course, the Palais Royal’s most famous “sculpture” is Les Deux Plateaux, better known as the Buren columns. These “stripey” black and white columns of different sizes are very popular with tourists but they are also a wonderful playground for the local kids who come up with all sorts of inventive games. They climb on them, slalom around them on their little scooters and bikes and put their dolls on top.
When work first began on the columns in 1985 on the site of a parking lot, it caused a furore. The objectors eventually managed to find a legal loophole and have the work stopped. By then it had escalated from a discussion on the appropriateness of modern art in an historical context to a major political debate.
Every day after work, Relationnel used to stop by and read the day’s graffiti, slogans and caricatures on the boardings around the worksite. Everyone seemed to have joined the debate. It became increasingly heated and venemous with insults and slander on every side. The French daily Le Figaro launched a major offensive which ultimately won the day and the work was finally resumed in 1986. Major renovations were carried out and completed in 2011 so the columns are all looking very spruce.
When I first saw them, I didn’t like them at all because I couldn’t see any connection between the so-called “sculpture” and the Palais Royal but when I realised that the stripes were actually a reflection of the regulatory grey and white striped blinds on my windows, I adopted them!
These are the first snowdrops in the private woods behind the house we are buying in Blois, La Closerie Falaiseau. The photo was sent to us by the current owners. That, of course, is our big adventure for 2012. On 17th March, the house will be ours. We’re planning to spend Easter there with the family.
As we watched the Eiffel Tower shimmer and shake from our window in Paris at midnight and drank our champagne, we imagined ourselves at the same time the next year in the Closerie next to a roaring fire, snug inside our four-hundred-year-old walls!
The incredible Plitvice Falls
This has been an eventful year: a week in Seville in February and a week in Orthez in the Pyrenees in April, taking up again with my very first friend in France, Elizabeth. Relationnel went surf fishing for 10 days in May in Normandy, where I joined him both weekends to cycle. We then spent five days cycling in the Loire Valley in June. In the summer, we took four weeks off and drove to Eastern Europe, visiting (and cycling) in no less than nine countries (France, Italy, Croatia, Bosnia Herzogovina, Slovenia, Austria, Liechtenstein, Germany and Switzerland), speaking four languages (French, Italian, Croatian and German), dealing in three currencies (euros, Liechtenstein marks and Swiss marks) and clocking up more than 5,000 kilometers. Highlights included the incredible Plitvice lakes and falls.
Relationnel then spent a week trekking in the Alps in September before we both went to eastern Champagne to cycle around the largest man-made lake in Europe and visit the eleven half-timbered churches in the region. In October, Relationnel turned sixty and Leonardo decided to pull up his roots and go to Australia to live and work, helping me to set up the blog before he left.
Relationnel and I then went went to the Loire Valley for a few days to start looking for a place to live when Relationnel retires in June 2014. We fell hopelessly in love with the very first house we visited, built in 1584. Who could resist? Since then, we seem to be caught up in a whirlwind.
Today, as we ate our oysters on Sunday, we talked about everything we need to do. It’s a little overwhelming to say the least. We want to divide La Closerie in two and rent out (or exchange) the ground floor. Once he retires, Relationnel is going to completely renovate the “Little House” next door which is part of the sale so that we can use it as a short-term holiday rental and invite friends to visit. This means furnishing La Closerie (dépôt-vente, here I come!), setting up a website and organising rental.
This year, we’ll also be going to Australia in September/October where I’ll be organising a big family reunion on my father’s side in Armidale (there are 39 cousins in my generation and 54 in the next generation!), the first in 50 years, and spending two weeks in Tasmania (on a home exchange!) plus a couple of weekends in Sydney and Brisbane. We hope to organise other home exchanges in Europe during the year.
I’m also giving up my university teaching in June after 16 years. I’ve loved teaching and gained many friends among my graduates over the years, but I feel it’s time to move on to other things.
And, of course, I’ll be continuing my blog. Thank you to all my faithful readers for your encouragement. Bonne lecture, as they say in French, for the year to come!
Now this is another “sculpture” near the Palais Royal that I’m not keen on, because I find it somewhat garish, but I have some (perfectly normal French) friends who think it’s wonderful. It’s the entrance to the Palais Royal metro on Place Colette and it’s called “Le Kiosque des Noctambules” (The Night Revellers’ Kiosk) and was designed and built in 2000 by Jean-Michel Othoniel.
There are two domes made of multicoloured glass balls, one in warm colours with a blown glass figure on top (the sun?) and the other in cold colours with a purple figure on top (the moon?). I checked out the symbolism on my favourite Paris architectural information blog,
archeologue.over-blog. It says that the two domes are placed on top of a frame forming an eight (not immediately obvious), which is the symbol of eternity. A little bench at one end is there to welcome night revellers (I must check next time if there are any). The little fence around the bench consists of a series of hammered metal rings incrusted with coloured glass.
When you go down the steps to the metro, you come to the second part of the installation. There are two large circles embedded in the brick wall with coloured beads inside an Art Nouveau surround. The “jewels” apparently blink out at you in the dark corridor. Mystery downstairs, brightness upstairs is the idea it seems. I’ve always found them a little strange personally. I didn’t realise there was any connection with the other part.
I personally prefer Hector Guimardt’s traditional metro entrance in front of the Louvre, built in 1900, but that’s not surprising because I’m a great fan of Art Nouveau.
