Paul from Paris

self-portrait at Louvre

Every month, the Louvre chooses a “painting of the month”, which is displayed in Salle 18.

From June through September, the Louvre has chosen a self-portrait by Elisabeth-Sophie Chéron. Summer visitors to Paris: rejoice! This is a rare chance to become acquainted with a remarkable artist.

I must have dozed off in art history class when Chéron was discussed, because I became acquainted with her work years after my college days.

An introduction to Chéron:

• born 1648, died 1711
• protestant father, catholic mother; brother Louis, also an artist, settled in England after the revocation on Nantes made life difficult for protestants in France
• won acclaim as a painter for portraits, including the two self-portraits in this post, done while Chéron was in her 20s
• admitted into the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture in 1672, when Chéron was in her 30s
• also a celebrated writer and poet; most of her work had religious or Biblical themes
• good with languages : French, Latin, Greek, Hebrew
• for her writings, was inducted into the Accademia dei Ricovrati in Padua, which seems to have had a practice of admitting French women because they would not attend Academy proceedings in person
• also an accomplished musician
• married after her childbearing years were over

self-portrait at musée condé, chantilly

couverture du magazine Ikea Family Live (hiver 2010)

“Et si vous fixiez vos propres règles?”

Voici la question posée en couverture de Ikea Family Live magazine, publication du magasin suédois éponyme destinée surtout aux consommateurs parents de jeunes enfants en quête d’”idées et inspiration pour la maison”.

Il s’agit d’une question ouverte, un brin provocante tout en gardant le ton bon enfant du magazine et du magasin.

C’est aussi une réponse à l’affirmation de la RATP à bord des bus parisiens : “Si chacun fait ses propres règles, tout se dérègle.”

Il s’agit, pour la RATP, d’un énoncé fermé, vaguement ménaçant, qui n’admet pas de discussion. Bizarrement, c’est aussi un mécanisme à disculper la RATP de dysfonctionnements : l’origine de dérèglements se trouverait auprès des usagers, intempestivement innovateurs.

The Paris transit authority, the RATP, wants to promote civility through a communications campaign aboard its buses.

In a previous post, I joked about the RATP’s seeming inability to see the world through the eyes of its customers, who saw an over-crowded train where the RATP saw an ordinary train.

The RATP’s new campaign is unabashedly philosophical and frankly reactionary, with a tag line that speaks out against making up or living by your own rules.

City buses feature illustrations of this principle. I’d have expected the illustrations to stress the importance of paying when you ride the bus, speaking politely with the driver, abstaining from playing music at loud volumes, or leaving your seat to an infirm passenger.

I was mistaken: the RATP again represents its passengers as problems. In this case, it lashes out against … babies.

The RATP has a point: strollers take up space and end up making a bus crowded.

But the RATP fails at making this point.

Its visuals instead show how babies make life difficult for a working man.

The image that introduced this post shocked me. The four babies are all doing fine, enjoying the bus ride or napping. Their companions –to my eyes, a mother, a father, and a grandmother– are smiling. Everyone is getting on and getting along fine. Then a malcontent enters the scene: a working man. He’s shown to be bothered and inconvenienced.

Bizarrely, the RATP shines its spotlight on and casts its sympathies with this one, solitary traveler; it seems blind to the fact that a bus ride is a happy experience for seven other travelers. The RATP’s tag line reads roughly as: “with strollers, don’t push it”. And the RATP’s solution –strollers subsequent to the second stroller must be folded– doesn’t make life any easier for its youngest passengers or their companions.

Si chacun fait ses propres règles, tout se dérègle

Seen in Paris on 18 December 2010. Photo taken in front of Comédie française.

In an effort to promote civic-spiritedness, has the Paris transit authority lashed out against individual liberties?

If a requiem mass were a book, that book might be Paris perdu.

Paris perdu is a coffee-table book written by a collective and featuring hundreds of interesting photographs; as befits the funereal tone, all of the latter are in black and white.

The book’s title means “lost Paris”, although the title also is a pun on “losing bets” or “a lost wager”.

The book’s subject is the loss suffered by various Paris neighborhoods through urban renewal, renovation, and development.

This reader found the text militant and ultimately superfluous: Paris perdu makes a strong case through its use of photographs. All of the photographs were chosen carefully, and many of them are intriguing. They make Paris perdu a great book for leisurely, repeated viewing, for any lover of Paris. I was particularly captivated, and dismayed, by a treasure of photographs of the Halles before their demolition and replacement by a commuter train hub and shopping mall (whose renovation is pending).

Paris perdu has two weaknesses, both rhetorical. First, it overstates its case at times. From a safe remove (of fifty or a hundred years), poverty or squalor can seem charming, or at least photogenic. Subdivision, cramped living quarters, and tuberculosis are ills on which this book does not long dwell. Second, instead of resting its case by presenting what is no longer, the book too often makes a point by contrasting the past (authentic, rich) with the present (standardized, enriching only for developers).

Paris perdu was published in 1991 by Editions Carré. It is no longer in print, but can be found in used bookshops or in libraries.