Lost In Limoges

From the sheep-dotted pastures of France's underpopulated Southwest, Limoges rises in all its grey glory. The city's claim to fame: fine porcelain. The half-timbered houses of the Medieval center are surrounded by strip malls and McDo. Land-hungry Brits descend with flailing pocketbooks (thanks, RyanAir). The weather is remarkably cool year-round. Sure, I live on rue de Nice, but this is NOT the Cote d'Azur. Welcome to Limoges, "the middle of nowhere"-- or as Pierre says "everywhere"-- France.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Monet's Waterlilies at the Musee de l'Orangerie


The line was long, snaking its way around the building. A simple reservation, a quick phone call ahead, and you skip the line entirely. I hadn't thought of that. But there are worse things than standing in the sunshine in the Jardin des Tuileries. I eavesdropped on the conversation between two well-dressed American gents ahead of me in line, museum buffs and Francophiles who described the raucous scene on the Champs Elysees after the French win against Portugal the night before. Apparently the fireworks weren't getting far enough off the ground. They described seeing faces covered in blood. Pure chaos.

With that kind of story-telling, the wait flew by. The Musee de l'Orangerie has only recently re-opened, after an impressive six-year renovation, and a $36 million investment. This is where folks flock to see Monet's series of waterlilies-- perhaps the most monumental works of his lifetime. Americans seem especially mesmerized by Monet and the blockbuster exhibits that have exhibited his work around the country. But truly-- these huge paintings of waterlilies are exceptional. The artist spent 30 years captivated by the light on the waterlily pond at his home in Giverny, and managed to capture its mysterious quality, and the changing seasons, in his large Abstract canvases that wrap around the walls of the museum. These eight paintings are enormous: over six feet high and one is over 50 feet long. The artist donated them to France, and they were hung at l'Orangerie in 1927, a year after his death. In the 1960's, the government attempted a renovation of the museum that holds the paintings, which failed miserably, and so for years, the nymphéas (as they are called) sat forgotten and neglected.

No longer. The museum re-opened in mid-May, and presents the paintings as Monet initially intended them to be viewed. Natural light floods through the ceiling; the white walls curve and bend to accommodate the canvases. The architecture is as stunning as the paintings. The water lilies are housed on the ground floor, while the downstairs showcases the Jean Walter and Paul Guillaume collection of Impressionist and post-Impressionist works, including a corridor of Renoir, Matisse, Derain, and Modigliani. (Derain's colorful canvases-- full of distorted angles and interesting scenes of French life-- are awesome.)


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