Louvre

After Versailles, we went to the Louvre. Kathleen wore a pedometer, so I can tell you with all the force of truth that we walked over 12 miles last Friday. 

Our hotel was very centrally located, only five minutes from the Seine and the Louvre. That's once Kathleen really got her map skills sharpened up; when we first arrived, the walk was more like fifteen or twenty because of wrong turnings. But that was good; we got to know the area pretty well, all the little cafes with the French people sitting with their faces towards the street, watching us go by, and she got incredibly good with maps. I'm afraid I only got good at following her.

The glass pyramid, I learned, is controversial. On the one hand, the architecture is a form of art. On the other, it doesn't go with anything about the Louvre. The Louvre exudes history, grandeur, complexity, richness like a human does carbon dioxide-- this pyramid is sleek, simple, modern. I am of the opinion that it sidetracks the eye from the main attraction, maybe even detracts a little.

But the Louvre is still one of my favorite places on the planet. I loved the arrangement, I loved the paintings-- and, after Versailles, my mind was prepared for the overwhelming fracas of gilt and glitter.

This statue was in one of the first rooms we entered, and it turned out to be one of my absolute favorite pieces. I find the gentle cradling effect very attractive, very poignant. This is Cupid waking Psyche from sleep with a kiss; I'm not at all familiar with the myth, although figuring it out is now on my to do list.
This is the one Botticelli piece that we were able to find. I hesitate to say that it is the only one at the Louvre. We stumbled upon this one by accident. I like the way he depicts faces, the way he simplifies the shadows and focuses on lines almost like a sketch artist.
I was able to find one of my grandmother's favorite pieces! She had described the piece to me over the phone, and the second morning Kathleen and I went to the Louvre I happened to glance around and find it. 

I really like the portrait, as well. It stands out from an overwhelming profundity of religious depictions on display at the Louvre because it focuses on the father-son aspect instead of that of the Virgin-baby-- and there's a bond, an intimacy to the figures enhanced by the dramatic lighting effect. 
The Venus di Milo-- found this, too. And was nearly trampled by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd who all wanted a photo as badly, or worse, than I.
There was an especially rich appointed room designated for the Crown Jewels. The shades had been drawn to protect the paintings, and flash photography was not allowed. The walls and ceilings were crawling with statues and frescoes. Evenly spaced among them were the zodiac signs. 

Well, I found that cool.
Da Vinci's Last Supper was on display across a lobby from the Mona Lisa. The Last Supper is a very, very large piece, obviously meant to be kept in public halls as it would fit in no living area or bedroom I've ever seen (excepting those at Versailles, it's true). Conversely the Mona Lisa is very small, or a normal portrait size at any rate, and better suited to a private setting. The Last Supper was almost totally ignored as masses of people clamored around the other, trampling the velvet ropes meant to form a sort-of line out of the tourist mob.

I wonder how Da Vinci painted this. It must be made up of different canvases-- It must be-- But how were they attached so seamlessly?
The Louvre could definitely give Versailles a run for its money in terms of magnificence. Of course, Versailles really only speaks of human pride and hubris-- So much for so few! And the Louvre has a practical point, housing so many priceless artifacts and works of genius.

I could be biased.