I came to Paris to make art, but I also came to see art. Today I went to see the Musee de l'Homme.
It was a cool day, wet but not raining. I took the metro to Trocadero and got my first good look at the Tour d'Eiffel from across the river. It's a great place to see it and because of the weather and time of the year, there were relatively few tourists. I took the obligatory selfie and posted it then headed for the museum.
I got there about 12:30, but there was no line. It cost 12 euro, no discount for seniors. I paid for two things: The special exhibition on the Neanderthal and the the regular collection.
I went to the Neanderthal exhibit first. It was interesting, but reminded me of my earliest trips to the Museum of Natural History in New York (thank you Lynda), starting with a diorama and moving into a collection of bones, mostly skulls, and lots of reminders that though they weren't exactly human, they had a lot in common with us and probably interbred with us. Ok, got, we are all a little bit Neanderthal.
The exhibit varied between stuff, like bones and educational 'interactive' segments. I tried a few of these interactive displays, but by today's standards, even I know that they are dated. So, I cruised past this stuff, tried out a few of the video booths--which didn't work--and exited through the gift shop, warily eyeing the life-sized mannequin of a Neanderthal woman in 'modern' dress. Creepy.
Out into the atrium and cafe. I went back into the collection. Of course, I was going backward in the sens de la visite.
This part of the museum is what I really came for. Not the skull of Descartes--yes really it's there-- or Lucy--very small, missed it on the first pass--or the zillion stone implements. I enjoyed most of the latter, by the way, as they moved me closer to my objective: art.
This I finally found in a tiny gallery on the mezzanine. It was enclosed and dark inside so I could see and examine the treasures up close. This was, without a doubt, the best part of the museum.
I saw some of the earliest carvings and paintings ever made. It gave me a thrill, just to see and examine these rare and beautiful objects, so mysterious and familiar at the same time. The room was tiny, the objects maybe numbered fifty. But what objects. I doubt I closed my mouth the whole time, except when I was talking out loud with delight. There was no one else in the room at the time, whew.
It is part of my central thesis about art and aesthetics that art that resonates is good art. And so it was in this tiny gallery, with these objects that so resonated with me. I draw personal power from seeing these things, from the connection that binds me to them over deep time. They were made for me. That's some good shit.
Mind blown, I waded through the rest and made my way out the entrance back to Paris and life itself.
It was a cool day, wet but not raining. I took the metro to Trocadero and got my first good look at the Tour d'Eiffel from across the river. It's a great place to see it and because of the weather and time of the year, there were relatively few tourists. I took the obligatory selfie and posted it then headed for the museum.
I got there about 12:30, but there was no line. It cost 12 euro, no discount for seniors. I paid for two things: The special exhibition on the Neanderthal and the the regular collection.
I went to the Neanderthal exhibit first. It was interesting, but reminded me of my earliest trips to the Museum of Natural History in New York (thank you Lynda), starting with a diorama and moving into a collection of bones, mostly skulls, and lots of reminders that though they weren't exactly human, they had a lot in common with us and probably interbred with us. Ok, got, we are all a little bit Neanderthal.
The exhibit varied between stuff, like bones and educational 'interactive' segments. I tried a few of these interactive displays, but by today's standards, even I know that they are dated. So, I cruised past this stuff, tried out a few of the video booths--which didn't work--and exited through the gift shop, warily eyeing the life-sized mannequin of a Neanderthal woman in 'modern' dress. Creepy.
Out into the atrium and cafe. I went back into the collection. Of course, I was going backward in the sens de la visite.
This part of the museum is what I really came for. Not the skull of Descartes--yes really it's there-- or Lucy--very small, missed it on the first pass--or the zillion stone implements. I enjoyed most of the latter, by the way, as they moved me closer to my objective: art.
This I finally found in a tiny gallery on the mezzanine. It was enclosed and dark inside so I could see and examine the treasures up close. This was, without a doubt, the best part of the museum.
I saw some of the earliest carvings and paintings ever made. It gave me a thrill, just to see and examine these rare and beautiful objects, so mysterious and familiar at the same time. The room was tiny, the objects maybe numbered fifty. But what objects. I doubt I closed my mouth the whole time, except when I was talking out loud with delight. There was no one else in the room at the time, whew.
It is part of my central thesis about art and aesthetics that art that resonates is good art. And so it was in this tiny gallery, with these objects that so resonated with me. I draw personal power from seeing these things, from the connection that binds me to them over deep time. They were made for me. That's some good shit.
Mind blown, I waded through the rest and made my way out the entrance back to Paris and life itself.
