The family have just got back from a long weekend in Paris - all three of us - and an amazing time was had by all. Particularly Agnes, as she was up each night till gone eleven. Suzanne and I were shattered.
Paris is an amazing city, around every corner there is something beautiful and exciting to discover (a cliche is a cliche cos it's true). It's also so compact we walked everywhere from our base in the Marais district and didn't need to take the metro once (just as well, cos the bugaboo wouldn't have got down there).
The highlight had to be the Musee D'Orsay which, to my shame, I had never been to before. The giant space in the centre draws comparisons to the the Tate Modern, but the integration of all the other work is so much more successful. Of course, it helps that there is an Ingres scattered here and a Monet dotted there, but the juxtoposition of the contemporary and history of the architecture is breathtaking.
There is a temporary exhibition of Cezanne and Pisarro which is just drawing to a close. My A-Level Art teacher worshipped Cezanne and he often brought out a well thumbed monogram, describing the application of the paint to fruit within his still-lifes. This exhibition brought the memories back, and I realised with a jolt the inspiration he has provided, particularly through his approach to painting - to me he sacrifices figurative detail for a broad, holistic vision. And there is so much energy in his work, and possibly frustration in the application of the paint that i recognise.
Probably my first creative hero, and though I don't think of his work very often, his shadow looms large over me still.
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