beauty’s antiquity. take two.

sitting on ligne 10, I waited for my descent at eglise d’auteuil, when on came a woman. probably in her late eighties, whose back had been arched with age. she chose a seat in front of me, with her back
turned. all that was visible was her forest
green cardigan and thining hair. part of me ignored
her, like the rest of society
who leaves her to enjoy
her cloister that is a mini park and assisted housing. who label her as ‘uninteresting’ and ‘unentertaining’ because of her aloffness of modern-day l’argot and parisian youthful beauty. but the other part of me desires to talk to her. to ‘hear her stories’, to laugh at her horrible
jokes whose humor has aged like that of french cheese. except, contrary to the cliché,
it does not become better with time.
there are many women in paris who live alone. i guess, fulfilling a bit of my favorite image of the old, single-woman living in
a studio with nothing to comfort her but a bottle of old wine and several felines. i always laugh at that
because it’s really funny.
but once my sensitivities are brought back into reality and when i find myself meeting these women and living with them, i do
just the opposite.
it’s not that these women don’t continue being vibrant, amazing, wise, strong women…i’m not trying to pilot some pity campaign for them, but there is still due reason for identifying the existing disappointment and inevitable longing from being left by a husband. at first,
i became so angry with french men and vowed i would NEVER consider marrying one,
as my friends back home would always joke i’d do.
but, even though many French men do fulfill such stereotypes, and i will continue in my adamant refrain,
it isn’t just because of their ‘frenchness’.
it is more so because they are HUman.
and it is the adherence to such ‘humanistic’ thought (by individuals and the result of the moral evolution of this society), that is the downfall to ‘adam’ (and his eve).
and in turn, human
relationship. but i believe in love.
just not that of a flippant human kind.
i believe in the love that serves without condition.
the love that sacrifices
even when it ‘can’t’. and the love that endures even when the physical beauty fades. the agape. love

social art history. contextualism over formalism.

true science investigates and brings to human perception such truths
and such knowledge as the people of a given
time and society consider
most important.
art transmits
these truths from the region of perception. tolstoy

i love art. and living in paris now and collecting (bon marché) laissez-passers to pomp. d’orsay and louvre allows me to visit these amazing art museums at my leisure. that is a sweet little benefit to being young and living in troy’s ‘lutetia’, ‘la ville des lumières’, paris.
i love the sheer beauty of art. observing it. valuing it. creating it.
but i also desire to entertain its depth. to a greater extent than any
wide-eyed tourist running the marathon that is the louvre, just glancing at everything
to say you’ve ‘seen it in person’–some kind of bragging right to your ill-cultured
(aka poor who can’t afford to travel there) friends. 
maybe its the critic or ‘deep thinker’
in me
that wants to know more. know more about the artist’s purpose for
producing
that piece. (points for a lame attempt at an alliteration). where did he live? what books 
did he read? what was his relationship
with his father and mother like? did he see himself
as an artist or more so as an intellectual? was he being paid to create by some rich king or did he refuse such offers in order to
continue contently living his proletariat life?

the painting can be sheer in just its beauty and form,
but its beauty becomes
greater seen when one simply takes the time
to explore it,
beyond its framed dimension being hung on the gallery wall. 

beauty’s antiquity

1 octobre 2008

i walked through the gardens of the louvre today, about a ten minute walk from school. it was wonderful walking between the oversized buildings and sculptures of old charm and wrought iron character. all the while, i kept asking myself, ‘when will i begin taking such beauty for granted?’  i kept walking, found a vacant bench of concrete and sat. les enfants de maternelle m’ont passe les touristes m’ont passe les couples m’ont passe les gens du pays m’ont passe aussi. et je m’asseyais la pendant qu’il commencait a pleuvoir. c’etait calme. c’etait reparateur.