I spent my spring in Paris. I bypassed the museums because I had no interest in them, then escaped the crowds of tourists due to the cold and rainy weather--none of them wanted to be there. April in Paris is not what one might imagine. I'd been lucky--I'd received a rather generous fellowship--the Jane Crater Hiatt--in order to travel and work abroad. I am a visual artist, and I set out to see Paris, my favorite city, with new eyes.
There are so many places there that could have taken me captive--convinced me to while away my afternoon hours, but none was more compelling than the Grand Palais des Beaux-Arts. On days where I could not bear my studio any longer, I would head to this shelter, this high church of steel and glass. It is true that you are met outside by its Classical lines and lush ornamentation, but that's just for show--the real treasure lies inside--under the dome and under the sky-- on top of concrete looking up.
On a perfect day no one will be there and the doors will be open, but that's a perfect day. Any other time you have to seize your opportunity. I had many and took them all. I surrendered to this monument of vast, hard beauty and lost myself.
So my blog begins with this hideout--my hideout--my secret fort.
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