Cool French Library

Cardinal Richelieu had such an outsized influence on France during his career (reign?) that streets and buildings are named after him. It’s always surprising to realize he was a real person and not just the villain of a story about those four musketeers.

On the Rue de Richelieu in Paris, you can find what used to be the National Library of France. (The actual National Library is now located elsewhere, and this is a library/museum) As someone who reads a lot of books, if I were to live in Paris, I’d be in that place reading any chance I had. Look at the ceiling on this thing!

Skylights the Best Lights

I planned to wake up early and head to the place so I could chill out and read for a bit, but I woke up late (jetlag… or soul delay?) so was unable to find a spot to sit down. All of the seats and tables were filled, and the people there didn’t seem to be the types to get up and leave any time soon.

Normal Ass Library

It was a lovely day in Paris when I was there. The sun fell through the glass ceiling providing the perfect illumination for reading. The temperature was a little warm what with the ceiling being made of glass, but nothing too uncomfortable. The people quietly read or browsed the computers. Many of the books lining the central reading area and the walls were reference books. Readers brought their own books to just bask in the area and read.

I would have liked to see it on a stormy day so I could watch the rain fall onto the ceiling. I could see myself being fascinated by that for many hours.

I didn’t spend much time there. With the seats being occupied and me being hungry, I moved along before too long. I look forward to returning so I can read a book on one of the comfortable chairs while enjoying the architecture.

Found In the Louvre

Art Photographing Art

I went to Paris for a week in April of this year. It was my second time in Paris, though the previous time I was only there for a couple of days. I was very far outside the city last time, so for this trip I made sure to stay in the middle of the city.

When I was in Paris last time, I didn’t have a chance to visit the Louvre, so I booked a ticket for the museum very far in advance, probably before I even had my hotel. There were a few highlights that I definitely wanted to check out while I was there, and I was pleasantly surprised by some of the pieces they had. I always assumed the statue version of the Gummy Venus de’ Milo below was in Italy. Feels like it should be in Italy, right?

Carved By Gummy artisans who work exclusively in the medium of Gummy.

If you’ve never been to the Louvre, first thing to know is that it’s big. Extremely big. Also, not the easiest place to get around. Take a look at the map on the second page here. The museum is effectively 4 levels, from -1 through 2. (That makes sense. Nothing confusing about that at all) So after being there for a while, I sat down to take a break when the woman way up at the top of this post walked into the room.

I forget which room I was in, one of the ones with lots of paintings of pale Europeans, I think. (Definitely narrows it down, eh?) I was sitting there in the room examining the maze printed on the brochure which the museum calls a ‘map’ when the woman above entered. I glanced in her direction and noticed the outfit, something which is difficult not to do in Paris. There are many well dressed people in that city. Is Paris known for well dressed people? I’ve never heard such a thing. That needs to be a thing.

Fashion = Paris

The woman looked around the walls, identified that painting above which you can see she’s taking a photo of with her phone, and lined up to take a photo. She took a few photos, which was timely as it allowed me to take a picture of her with her back to me. I could make an excuse like “I needed the photo because no one would believe me otherwise” or “I was taking a picture of something on the wall and she got in the way”, but neither of those would be accurate.

Truth is, her tattoo was the most interesting piece of art in the entire room.

As mentioned above, I’m pretty sure this was another room with many paintings of rich dead people with too much money. So into that room walks a living, breathing person with many, many hours worth of ink covering her back, covering the back of her legs, and crawling like ivy onto her arms.

She exuded a vibrancy in the staid room which drew the eye much more than whatever masterpieces adorned the wall. While she was present, the level of artistic essence imbibed by those of us sharing the space with her was exponentially greater than in her absence. She arrested the eyes of all the visitors she graced with her presence, herself and the tattoo combining into a synergistic masterpiece.

Then she left.

Did she leave because some creep took a pic of her back? Can’t be ruled out.

And I was just some middle-aged dude resting my feet in a random room of one of the greatest museums on the planet. Surrounded by pretty pictures on the wall that just hung there. Deflated.