Montmartre Art

I write to you of my Paris travels once again, dear reader. It has been several days since my last missive, unfortunately this humble seal of yours did come down with a slight malady of which I needed to recover. Nothing serious, mind you, but a seal who has lost his bark is a sad thing, and I do wish to be my best for you.

I ventured by Paris metro to the 18th arrondissement with mentor. There are many lines of the underground here, perhaps less easily navigable than other metro systems in other cities, but it does make me feel like I am joining the locals of the city.

Between the metro stop of Abbesses and the top of Montmartre, what I do not show you, dear reader, are the number of stairs. The number is many. Very many. But the reward is the church, Sacre Coeur, and the view of Paris from it. Only I did forget to take one of those photos so I do hope you may at this point be able to trust me that the view from this cathedral is spectacular.

Although I may not recommend being in this arrondissement alone at night, as it is a rather gritty region of Paris, it is not without its charm. Every city, grand and less grand, has areas that are unkempt, it would be unrealistic to expect otherwise, especially in a city with such age and history. Montmartre itself has become over its history as a sort of haven for street art and artists.

Finally, allow me to introduce to you Mr. Pehyeb, a fine artist who lives in Normandy much of his time, and often comes to Paris to display and sell his oil paintings. He allowed me to take a photo with him after my mentor haggled with him for a fine piece of his. I do hope to meet him again on my next excursion up the stairs of Montmartre.

I have great respect for those who make their living in art, dear reader, for although there is much talk of museums and paint in these memoirs, I myself can only paint with words. Flippers are unfortunately not conducive to paintbrushes, but I do hope to manage some beauty with a keyboard.

Look But Don't Photo

As I write to you, dear reader, about these travels and these sights I share, I wish to clarify my intentions for these annals of adventure. What you see in these images are perhaps not in perfect chronological order, as some daily journals may be, but rather travelogues presented thoughtfully, by subject and theme.

I have been to several museums in the days I have been in Paris with my mentor, some I have been to before. One of the main differences between the art museums in this lovely city compared to those leading up to this part in our journey is the gratuitous use of No Photography signs.

This being the case, I share with you the view of the Eiffel Tower from the top of the Centre George Pompidou, as the modern art collection inside was off limits.  The collection here is extensive, and though I do enjoy a good collection of contemporary art, it was agreed between my mentor and myself that the Pompidou could stand some equally extensive editing by the heavy hand of a new curator.

Another lovely museum, one of my mentor's favorites, dear reader, the Musee d'Orsay. Also stringent with their rules on photography, I was only able to give you a taste of the special exhibition. My mentor enjoyed the selection of male nudes more thoroughly than I, I would believe.

At the least, an interior of the Musee d'Orsay, once a bustling train station, now a bustling gallery. Last I was here the Musee was still in disarray, being renovated at the time. The top floor is now an impressive show of some of the finest impressionist artists known to time.

To continue with the impressionists, my visit to the L'Orangerie was one I found greatly satisfying, and I never had the pleasure of a visit before now. Though I show you myself gazing at one of Monet's Waterlilies, I am slightly ashamed to admit this photograph was not strictly a permitted one. But I felt compelled to sneak just a small amount of the image that surrounded us in that meditative space, full of light and color that was the artist's greatest works.

Finally, dear reader, though not all of these musee were explored in the same day, I thought I should touch upon the art which is the food. Often we eat from casual boulangerie in the day, but in the evening we often sit and dine together. Here, the finest boef bourguignon stew I have had to finish off a long day and replenish our constitution. The evenings are cool and the weather the slight damp of autumn, and cobblestone streets can be tiring to delicate flippers.

A Return to Paris

Another day, another train to a new destination. An escape from Amsterdam and its wild weather and wilder ways. This is a return of a bittersweet nature to me, dear reader, for Paris is a city in which a lovely femme caught my heart, and I did abandon you our last adventure for the pursuit of passion and have hence become a wiser seal.

After a ride through the countryside of the Netherlands and Belgium, an arrivé sign at the Gare du Nord did seem so welcome.

And this, a most welcome, familiar, spectacular surprise, the view from the window of the salon of the apartment of which I shall be residing with my mentor.

Oh how she does sparkle, my Tour d'Eiffel, and shows with even more dazzling light through Paris skies, the city embraced with rain. Nothing is more lovely, in this humble pinniped's opinion, than Paris in the rain.

Verboden Vondelpark

Again I take you with us, dear reader, on our adventure in the city of Amsterdam. Weather was brewing about the time we made our way to the safety of another famed museum, the Rijksmuseum. This museum was one which had been closed for more than a decade for renovation, it's paintings spread across the world in the meantime. While we walked the halls, the wind did gust and howl, a windstorm of hurricane force knocking at the front door.

The Night Watch, a grand work by Rembrandt, a master of light and shadows, prominent in a great hall of the Rijksmuseum. It may look quite small beside me, dear reader, but let me assure you my placement in this photograph does not do the work justice. I am a very small sea mammal, and my position has skewed your perspective, for which I offer my profound apologies.

I did also wish to show the works of Vermeer that I humbly gazed upon, yet no photograph would do that dear master of light justice, so of that I refrained.

Then! Shock and surprise as we left the calm, controlled and regulated air and environment of that place of great masters. The great winds had left our Amsterdam in a state of disarray. Trees uprooted, trams out of service from downed power lines. No trains at all! Unfortunate, tragic deaths by that cruel mistress nature. Even the Vondelpark had been sealed.

As we traveled by foot the long path back to Boogaard's, we did pause and pay our respects to Miss Frank.

Then, to calm this storm-weathered seal's mood after such an eventful day, some chocolates are certainly the treat to have.

Tomorrow I have a change of scenery to share with you, dear readers. Another adventure, another journey, and the return to the City of Love.

Van Goghing to the Museum

Once upon a Dutch morning, I accompanied my mentor to the Van Gogh Museum. Quite the collection, literally hundreds of the artist's pieces in a single place. 

Though I do not know in detail my personal origins, perhaps there is some likeness between I and this self portrait that did catch my eye?

His Sunflowers, of which many crowded around, brought to me brightness to my briney heart.

And this, dear reader, is a work of which was forgotten and alone for many years in an attic, thought for most of its life to be the work of another. It has found its way home and is displayed now with its brethren to be admired in its rightful place.

A painters soul is expressed in his palette, simply a work of art itself with the oils left behind by the artist's brushstroke.

And now this, one of my favorites by the master, Irises in a vase, a blue which reminds me of the sea from where I come.

My adventure shall continue on the morrow, more of the finest art, and some of wicked weather. Rest assured, if you have seen news of storms, all is well with this pinniped and his traveling companions. All will be described anon.

High Speed Sitting

We are now in Amsterdam my dear readers. By rail we traveled, my mentor leading me through security with ease to get on the Eurostar, first to Brussels for a connecting train, which then proceeded us at speed to Amsterdam herself.

It may not look like much, dear reader, but that darkness in which I take this mirrored photograph is the Chunnel. Oh that high speed connection between the UK and mainland Europe, through which we speed beneath the English Channel.

Another destination, another accommodation. This time, an apartment style lodging on Langestraat, Boogaard's.

Cozy, with a lovely street view.

And so, at Museumplein begins our taste of Amsterdam! I have much art to share with you, dear reader, and some wild weather.

Once Upon a Seal

It was a lovely day in London, dear reader. Autumn sun and cool breezes as I accompanied my mentor to Leicester square. After the purchase of tickets for the show at the Phoenix theatre later, we continued on to the National Portrait Gallery.

Though I much enjoyed the classic Victorian era portraiture, I was enthralled by the contemporary portrait artist Yeo.  Then, it was on to the National Gallery itself.

Always I am drawn to the Van Goghs.

This is another of the great artists works, near the end of his life. It was after this that the security did inform me seals are not allowed personal photography in the National Gallery.

In the early afternoon, after some luncheon and a break, we then caught the matinee performance of Once. 

A tale of unrequited love and music, it is a tale that touched my sea mammal heart. I am, dear reader, an undeniable romantic. My mentor does not discourage this. There will always be a place for romantics in the world, says she. Such ended our last full day in London, and Britain itself.