Contemporary Art at the Museum

Like this a lot

Can you see the face in the bricks?

From a distance it looks blanl

But there is a face there

Will everything be black, white or beige?

Spent some time this afternoon at the Fine Arts Museum.  Every  time I go there, I feel so lucky to live in a town with such a nice museum, and one that is free to the public.  Right now there is an exhibit of contemporary art that I have been wanting to view, so after this morning's routine I headed down to Place Gambetta. 

From a distance

close up

There are some interesting smallish bronzes in the courtyard, but the sum was positioned so that every last one of them was in the full heat of it.  I did take a cursory look, but will go back, earlier in the day when it's not so hot.

Reminds me M C Escher

So much hand work

The museum itself is not air conditioned, which on days like today poses special challenges.  There are portable unites placed here and there, in spots where they can be vented, but mostly the art is kept cool (and that's relative to the furnace temperatures outside) using fans.  Kind of like my apartment.  |It must be most unpleasant to be a docent on these hot days.

One of the more evocative pieces

Are these "office trailers" in the lower right|?

The first part of the exhibit led me to think that the whole show was going to be nothing but beige, tan, brown and blacks.  I am a fan of contemporary art and a fan of those colors, so I wouldn't have minded had it turned out that way.  There was more color in subsequent rooms.

A black sheep

Neverdid figure out what these clay pieces were

Today's visit found me taking photos of the work from both a "viewing distance" and then again close up, to see materials and techniques used.  There were some very interesting items, in terms of subject matter, composition and materials used.  I saw lots of things that I liked; some having a social message, some simply art for art's sake.  I saw one piece that I would hang in my home, but only one piece that I covet.  And it's 60+ years old.  

Rows and columns of little silver hands

Sign language letters?  Is there a message?

For reasons I don't fully understand, the art museum doesn't publicize their works often or well.  Hence, the museum is never crowded.  To be honest, I like that--I can look at a piece as long as I like, I can get as close to it (without touching, of course) as I like.  I can take photos....and nobody gives me a hard time about it--ever.  And of course, I don't use flash.  The last temporary exhibit I saw there was the Samurai exhibit.  I look forward to their next installation. 

One of my favorites--folded paper? LED lights?

From a distance

Marseille--Mon Amour

Iconic image of Marseille

I have always preferred working ports to gentrified, touristy, antiseptic ports.  I like Annapolis but prefer watching the work at the Port of Baltimore.  For that reason I expected to like Marseille and I was not disappointed.

Two floors up, on the left--one shutter closed, one open

View from the balcony onto the court below

Marseille is about an hour's train ride from Nimes. The day was sunny and beautiful; the wind had calmed somewhat from the bluster of the weekend.  I was able to watch some French countryside  that I had never seen before roll by and began to understand why those famous  painters loved the light here.  Bizet's L'Arlesienne Suite got stuck in my mind's ear as we entered Arles and left just as quickly.  I expected it to be bigger.  Van Gogh created a painting of a bridge there.  It's worth an overnight visit to poke around, I think.

Freshly caught

Catch unloaded for the day

I recognize  the sardines

Sorry, but I am NOT eating these

On to Marseille.  I had booked a hotel in the Old Port quarter.  I like to stay in the center of town, whenever possible.  I am sure there are newer and fancier starred hotels all along the water, but I like to be within walking distance of shops and whatever daily life is happening.  The train pulled into the Marseille station, which, while it is big, was not as massive as I expected.  After all, Marseille is the second largest city in France, and this was nothing compared to Gare du Nord or Montparnasse in Paris.  Marseille is quite a bit more manageable.  

I think this a flag of Malta in a forest of masts at the port

I knew my hotel was within a not-unreasonable walking distance of the station, but I had, like a moron, left my map at home.  So, I took a taxi--how much could it be?  After about a 7.50 Euro ride, made no doubta little more expensive by the severely clogged streets,  my taxi driver sort of "dumped" me out on the sidewalk with the words, "I can't get through.  It's around here somewhere--you'll find it."  So there I stood, in one of the liveliest Arab market neighborhoods I have seen outside of Paris.  There were so many sounds and smells and colors.  I loved it, but at the same time, I was eternally grateful that I was alone and didn't have, shall we say, particular, friends who are more particular than I am with me.  Because that many people in that small a space with that much activity generate trash and garbage and graffiti, which is sometimes off-putting to those used to a more genteel way of traveling.  But I was undaunted.  Lugging my suitcase behind me, I shouldered my way through the crowd.  I was in Square Saint Louis, the hotel is the Hotel Maison Saint Louis; it had to be around here somewhere.  And after about 100 paces I spotted the sign.  The hotel sits on the corner, right on the edge of the Arab quarter.  It is charming, but looks a little bigger in its promotional photos--they seem to crop out all the surrounding activity.

one of several forts along the port

I knew I was early for check-in, but I just wanted to leave my suitcase and come back after lunch. However, the reception desk did indeed have a room ready, no small feat.  The hotel has only three rooms that have more than one bed.  They put us --me--in a family suite---a huge king size bed and a sofa that converted to a double.  We had floor to ceiling windows and even a balcony that looked over the square below.  It would do quite nicely, indeed. I camped out on the very comfortable sofa bed, leaving the big bed untouched for Lorraine.

Once I deposited my belongings, off I set to find the Office of Tourism, which was only a block and a half away, and from there, some lunch at water's edge.  The day was spectacular, the water was calm and blue.  This point of Marseille is actually some distance from the Mediterranean proper--it's a long, narrow inlet that serves acres of sailboats and motor yachts.  The economies of some small countries wouldn't come close to the net worth floating in that port.  

Hokey, but actually pretty interesting

I recognize the device on the bottom left--they haven't changed much

Industrial soap cooker

Brings back memories

The Office of Tourism was most helpful, giving me information about the public transit, the Little White Trains and the hop on-hop off open air buses.  I had a great salad for lunch and then set about exploring the west side of the port, where the old town is located.  I ducked into the church and lit several candles for remembrance.  I wondered about the mish-mash of architectural styles and pondered why old town didn't look all that old.  Then I saw a plaque that addressed that very issue--much of the area was bombed during World War II by the Germans.  And |I also spent no small amount of time if Galleries Lafayette!

I spent the next two days exploring--the old town and then the east side of the port shore.  There I glimpsed the staircases that negotiate Marseille's steep hillsides.  I walked all the way down to the fort.  I stood in line to get tickets for the Little White Train which would take us (once Lorraine arrived) all the way up to the top of the hill on which the famous cathedral, Notre-Dame-de-la-Gard keeps vigil over the city.  The edifice is topped with a gold statue of the Madonna and Child, or as the recorded tour guide put it in English, "The Virgin Mary and the Kid."  Maybe someone would like some help with translating into English?

Virgin Mary and the Kid

Marseille is known for bouillabaisse--its famous fish stew.  And for pastis--the absolutely delicious, addictive anise flavored liquor that one mixes with water.  I love that stuff, especially in the heat of the summer.  I somehow have gotten the impression that it's a man's drink, and "nice" women don't drink it, so I guess we all know what that makes me!  The city is also known for its striped blue and white fishermen's shirts, and all things lavender.  I didn't really consider it a part of Provence, but I guess in reality it is quite Provencal.  And lest I forget, Savon de Marseille--it's famous for its soap. I actually went into the Museum of Soap and found it quite interesting. 

 I loved the fishermen coming right in to the head of the port, every morning bringing the freshest fish I have ever seen to sell directly to the public.  It made me wish I lived here, and that I liked fish!  I recognized only two species--the sardines and the mackerel.  Three were some ugly eels awaiting the cook pot, as well.

May 8 is a national holiday in France--Liberation Day.  The French celebrate their liberation from Germany, and it's a rather festive day.  May 8, 1945, which made this the 44th anniversary.  Marseille set up a pavilion of sorts at the port.  It included a covered dance floor, plenty of seating, a stage for the band, several rows of tents dispensing free--yes, free--food and drink.  The event was a bal patriotique--a patriotic dance.  Along the sides of the canvas pavilion were greatly enlarged black and white photos of the exact spot on the very day when liberation was annuo9nced.  I asked someone who was inside the barricade what was going on, thinking that it was in invitation-only gala.  I was told about the dance, and that it was open to all.  "Meme une vieille dame americaine?" (Even an old American lady?) I asked.  To all was the reply.  The French, or at least the Marseillais are still grateful and remember what the Americans and the British did to help rid them of the German occupiers.  

Getting ready for a party

Like the one on May 8, 1945--Liberation Day

Soon enough, it was time to enter.  The band had already started playing swing music from the 1940's and the dance floor was full.  One really cool thing about this pavilion was that the top covering had a mirrored ceiling.  So I could watch the dancers, even if they were upside down.  We were presented with three miniature flags--one US, one French, one UK when we entered.  

The actual scene reflected on the mirrored ceiling

Turned upside down--see the guy in the sailor suit?

I quietly found a seat and sat tapping my toes in time to the music.  I have never understood why throughout my whole life, nobody has ever asked me to dance.  Some old geezer came over and asked if the seat next to me was free.  I indicated that it was.  You know that three-day growth of dark beard is so compelling on a 35 year-old Frenchman?  Well, it's not so much on a 70+ year old Frenchman.  Anyhow he indicated, after a short introductory conversation that he'd "Come here just to find you," (meaning me.)  I snorted and waved him away, but I can say that I had an invitation to walk, because I don't think he could dance.  Too funny, even at the time.

French men posing as American G I's

Such a guy stance

Don't forget the WAC's

Atop a US tank

I made my way down to the display of American military vehicles that had been in a parade down the main street earlier, to start of the festivities.  American G I's were wearing olive drab fatigues and helmets and bore the insignia of the Third Army.  All was good until I went to speak to them...they were French!  I just couldn't get my head around that--Frenchmen dressed up as American G I's..it was like French men dressed up like my dad!  I get it in my head that who else would it be but Frenchmen, but hearing French come out of a US soldier's mouth just was a little too hard for me process.  I am still smiling about it.  

A 3-star General? 

One other thing that astounded me was the way the crowd reacted to the free food.  There were plenty of tents handing out little Dixie Cup sized portions of coffee, soda, water, as well as bite-sized pastries--muffins, little chocolate croissants and such.  And there was no crush.  There was no gluttony.  People took one helping and then moved on about their business.  Nobody was filling a purse because it was free or standing there hogging as much as they could stuff in their mouths.  It made me so proud to be in France.

Two of the three flags we were given

When I went to leave, as it was a bit chilly and getting late, and I had to take a nap so I could make a run to the train station later--10:30--that evening to collect my friend Lorraine, I went to the organizers to thank them. When they learned that |I was American, they presented me with a rosette of red, white and blue ribbon.  I got quite choked up, thinking about the honor and the sacrifice that Americans demonstrated at that period in history and how far we seem to have drifted from those values.  (And that's as political as this post will get).  I actually left the event in tears, but feeling very lucky to have been a part of it.

My rosette

I collected Lorraine at the appointed time.  The train station was eerily silent--the only shop open was a 24 hour McDonald's--of course.  But I felt zero fear.  While I was waiting, I had a delightful conversation with a young man of Bosnian descent.  His parents were refugees, I think, some 25 years ago when Czechoslovakia fell apart.  He now earns his living as a singer of Spanish songs in local night clubs.  He warned me to watch myself in the metro, to beware of pick pockets.  We talked of politics, of foods, of the places in the world he has lived and our shared love of Amsterdam.  I get discouraged sometimes by the snail's pace at which my language acquisition is proceeding, but our conversation was easy and fluid, so I guess I am making some progress. He was waiting for his uncle to arrive from Italy, on the same train as Lorraine.

Protesters gather

Dont' lower our wages

Don't privatize our jobs

All passengers collected, we took the metro home.  Without incident.  The next day, as we were setting off for the port, we encountered a pretty large and noisy, but very peaceful demonstration.  The white collar workers were marching to protest the reduction in both their numbers and in the amount of their pay.  There are always demonstrations going on here in France and all the ones I have witnessed have been peaceful, but determined.  Once at the port, we hopped on the Little White Train that took us up to the Cathedral, which gave us the panoramic view of the area and an idea of just how big the city is.  On the way, we drove along the Mediterranean coast, getting to view the islands right off the shoreline, one of which holds the Chateau d'If--the location that inspired the novel The Count of Monte Cristo.  It looks even more forbidding than Alcatraz.  But oh, the color of the water.  I know that Pacific is beautiful, as are probably the other great bodies of water in the world, but the blue of the Med seems unique to me.  I can see how it would inspire poets.  That ride was the worst--the bumpiest I have ever endured and taking photos was next to impossible.  I am glad I took the little white train, because it did get me to the top of that very high hill, but don't think I will be taking any more any time soon.  As Lorraine put it, "You are, after all, just riding in a cart."

Hilly Marseille reminds me of Montmartre in Paris

Chateau d'If on the island to the right...ah the color

That day we had lunch al fresco at the port--after browsing at the open air market of mostly locally handcrafted goods.  Dinner that night was also at the port, and we were able to watch the sun set.  We ordered sangria, which was unlike any sangria I ever had in Spain.  We then walked down to an Irish pub where a concert had been promised.  There was a concert, but it was more rock and roll, so we didn't stay long.  I did manage to get engaged in a conversation with another very tall woman who lived just a few blocks away...she was very friendly and wondered about the rosette on my jacket.  She told me that she'd not been feeling well on the day of the dance and missed it.  i think she was just glad to have another tall woman to talk to.  As we had a relatively early train the next morning, we decided to head back to the hotel and finish packing. 

From high atop the city

some of the city sprawl

All in all, I liked Marseille and do plan to return, but probably not until late fall or in the early months of next year.  I think summer would prove to be too hot.  It's really not far, only 3 hours by train, nor are the tickets very expensive.  I would stay in the same hotel, as I loved the location.  I feel like I merely scratched the surface of what there is to do and see...and taste and smell.  There are some foods in the Arab quarter that I would like to have explained to me as I try them.  And I had some falafel that was to die for in Toulouse recently--I will bet I can get exceptional falafel in Marseille.  Glad to have been introduced to this little corner of France.

The Great Roman Games--A "moment" with Emperor Hadrian

Simple stroll through the marketplace

Pegasus

 

I got ta ticket for the Sunday afternoon "spectacle."  Not knowing exactly what to expect, I figured that if there were contests of skill--fighting, chariot driving, marksmanship--that the "finals" would be on the last day and I would get to see the "Champion" crowned.  It didn't work like that.  Each day, I believe the same scenes were enacted for different crowds.  It was more of a play--a drama--than it was a sporting event.

Getting the Emperor's team ready

Interesting shield design--Spanish maybe?

But first, we had the parade and the "religious" ceremony.  After another tasty breakfast at the bakery (of the huge pink meringues fame) I hopped the tram and took myself to the arena.  There was more activity this morning--the area right outside the stone edifice was bursting with horses and their trainers and equipment--as in chariots!  A small crowd was gathering to watch the procession leave the gates to head up the street to the Maison Carre--the Square House, a beautiful old restored Roman building.  I took a few photos around the exit and then hot-footed it up the street to watch all the participants march by, in full dress. 

Battle dress

Ceremony participants, including the sheep

One of the sacrifices signaled by the smoke

Legion after legion stamped by.  I found out later, as I was watching all the participants take their bows, that most of the Legionnaires were, in fact, Italian.  Some were even from Eastern Europe.  People, especially men, seem to love re-enacting history.  There were mounted "barbarians" led by a very handsome King.  There were the politicians--men dressed as Senators in their white robes adorned with the red stripe.  Barbarian "riff-raff" dressed in skins and coarse clothing marched by beating drums and shouting anti-Roman slogans. 

A riot of color

Emperor Hadrian rode by in his beautiful chariot, pulled by two magnificent white horses.  He was accompanied by a detachment of legionnaires dressed in blue and silver.  Hadrian (this year's Emperor) wore a crown of golden laurel leaves and richly embroidered red robes.  Can't have an Emperor looking shabby, after all.  I wanted to shout out, "How'd that wall of yours work out?|   But I refrained...and it doesn't translate all that well to French.  He would acknowledge members of the crowd...and since I am eight feet taller than most of the people there, he and I connected for a very long moment.  Actually that happened twice--once along the parade route and once again as he entered the arena later.  Yes, my seat was THAT good!

On the steps of the Maison Carre

We made our way up to the Square House and the we had a religious ceremony.  I love that the producers of this event lost no opportunity to work in history.  We went through a ritual that was much like what would have taken place millennia ago, including declaring the spot a holy one by a priest of the temple, prayers to Jupiter, a sacrifice--not that anything was actually killed....it had to be a white animal, so there was a pretty little sheep on stage.  Dignitaries and priests spoke and intones prayers to keep the Emperor and his family safe and to have the Games be good ones. After the ceremony, we all tramped back down to the arena and off to lunch everyone went. 

Some of the barbarian riff-raff

Part of the parade back down to the arema

I had a wonderful Caesar salad (what else at the Roman Games?) for my lunch--maybe one of the best I have ever eaten.  Maybe it was just my imagination, but everyone seemed to be in a most festive mood; even the wind, which was gusting from time to time, didn't dampen people's moods.  Finally it was time to enter the arena and find my seat.  My tickets were in the Vomitorium, and I did have to wonder just how far they were going to carry through with this re-enactment business.  A nice young man helped me find my seat and it was great! Unlike the arena I visited in Paris, this one actually has wooden bench seats--nothing fancy, but it beats sitting on hard stone for 4 hours. I had a completely unobstructed view, close enough to see expressions on the performers' faces but not so close as to get a mouthful of dust when the wind gusted over the floor of the arena. I am going to try to get the same one for next year. The arena began to fill up with people; I was told the place was sold out.  The sky was blue, the clouds were white and puffy and while it was sunny, it was not too warm.  All in all, the weather was perfect.

Beautiful day with a horse-shaped cloud over the arena

It seems that these games were in fact designed to reflect the ones that Emperor Hadrian actually did give to the people of Nimes when he came through on a visit about 1900 years ago.  This year's theme was the Barbarian Wars, and the Roman General Marius' eventual win at Aix-en_Provence.  So we were getting a history lesson, in very broad strokes, to be sure, but I now know about Marius and his victory, something I didn't know before going into the day's activities.

Barbarian King and his beautiful spirtited horse

Windy dy

And, as with so many activities here, I am brought up short by the scope of my ignorance.  I thought |I got a pretty good public school education, but there is so much I do not know.  But all these activities have made me want to learn more, to close those gaps in my education.  As next year's theme is Julius Caesar and the Gallic Wars, I have gotten a copy of Julius Caesar's own account of these events and will learn more about them before going.

The horn-blower and the Officers

Emperor Hadrian enters the arena

After a little while, riders entered the arena on beautiful horses...the Barbarian King, naturally was on a black one,,who pranced and snorted and pawed the ground, first with one hoof and then the other.  he was a gorgeous spirited animal (and the horse wasn't bad either!) and together they made a great team.  Because the horses would be pressed into service during the spectacle, they needed to be warmed up.  So did the crowd....and they did a good job.  And what a job the and their riders did--all that screaming from the arena never seemed to faze them.  The pranced, raced, pawed, snorted, turned on a dime and wove an and out among the crowd on the arena floor with suck ease and skill.  I loved watching them.

At last, here came the Legionnaires...the riders, the soldiers, the chariots, the Emperor.  The banners, the shields--there was so much color.  Trumpets blared, the Emperor made his circuit and then mounted the stairs into the Imperial box where members of the Roman Senate were already seated.   The Games were declared open, after another prayer to Jupiter....

Hadrian enters his box where the Senate waits

There were demonstrations of marching, and of a tactic developed by Alexander the Great to foil attacks by enemy archers.  There were gladiator fights--local boys versus the Romans.  We were all given a napkin inserted in our programs---we were instructed to wave it if we wanted the loser to live...and later we used them to urge on our "color" chariot in the races.  I have been to the horseraces and this was ever bit as exciting.  My chariot lost--but the red one lost its rider, who got himself dragged around the arena behind his horses.  For such a little vehicle, those chariots need a lot of room to negotiate a turn.

Phalanx demonstrates Alexander the Great's technique for repelling arrows

And there were the obligatory gladiator fights--one on one and then a  three-man "tag team" match.  The announcer, who was great, and quite funny at times, urged us to root for our favorites, and kept reminding us, when we roared loudly for the "local" boy from Nimes, that the Emperor was in fact in the arena, along with his army and did we perhaps want to reconsider our decision of support.  Yes, there was a thumbs-up or down when the loser's fate was decided.  There were tow losers, who met their final end by having two burly men come and "smash" their skulls with oversized mallets.  Great fun!  I was surprised by how blood-thirsty the crowd was--death to them all, especially any of the Roman fighters.  Seems a little drastic for simply losing a wrestling match, wouldn't you say?  i would not have done well in those olden days, I suppose.

Here come the Barbarians

And more keep coming

Eventually the "story" began.  The Romans have been plagued by the northern, Germanic barbarians, who defeated them at (present day) Orange.  The barbarians raid a village and kill off the inhabitants, setting fire to the village and carrying off the available women.  After that, one of the most moving scenes was the appearance of figures all dressed in black, accompanying a row boar--Charon has come to ferry the souls of the dead across the River Styx.  It was somber and captivating. 

Barbarian aftermath

Charon comes to ferry the souls

Taking care of the dead

Well, the Romans can't be having this state of affairs, so the Senate meets and elects Marius as a consul and gives him the leadership position with orders to quash these barbarians.  The scenery is positioned to resemble the Roman Forum.  He accepts, with the stipulation thathe be allowed to chose the location of the battle.  

Maneuvers

Getting ready for battle

In the time remaining, the set becomes the seawall at the port of Marseille, and in come two motorized Roman galleys, both with crew, gliding silently, as if on the waters of the Mediterranean.  It was rather spectacular.  Marius stood tall in the bow, like any good conquering hero.  He alights at Marseille, where he is greeted as a savior. The battle is coming.

During the time it took to change the scenery--for the stage crew is busily constructing a Roman "fort"--ah those Roman builders--workers passed out Roman bread--anise flavored baked goods.  Now I knew where the term "bread and circuses" came from.  And before our very eyes, a square Roman fort took shape, large enough to hold scores of Roman soldiers.

Marius in the Roman galley

These were not little row boats

At this point, nearby movement caught my eye.  A barbarian, bare from the waist up, with painted face was climbing around between the tiers of seats, weapon in hand.  When the man next to me tried to stop him from possibly falling and hurting himself, the barbarian simply shrugged off the 'helping hand'" and held his finger to his lips in the universally understood "sshhh"  sign.  Sneak attack!

Soon enough the final battle was engages.  In rode the Barbarian king, followed by his skin-clothed hordes.  The climbed over one another, using their shields as a ramp to get to the top of the fort where they were repulsed by the helmeted Legionnaires.  Eventually, they battered down the door of the fort, the Romans went out the back way and they all met on the battlefield, where the Barbarians fought until only their king was left standing.  Then he, too, was dispatched.  The Romans won the day.

But as we know now, it was just a taste of the Visigoths' sacking of Rome that was to come.  If you take the time to look at the area ruled by Rome in its heyday, it is hard to comprehend.  How could one "power"  keep all of that area in check.  And some managed to do just that--for relatively long periods of time...we learned about the Pax Romana--over 100 years of peace.  Modern day nations a fraction of that size can't keep themselves from splintering.  

Marius lands at Marseille

I stayed for all the "bows."  Those people earned that little time of recognition.  I learned that those wooden shields are HEAVY.  I learned that there were over 500 people responsible for entertaining us that day.  Most of the Legionnaires came from Italy, or Germany, even Croatia.  No wonder it was hard to get a hotel room--they were all taken by the out of town performers.  I cannot imagine the logistics needed to put this all together. There was music, choreography, and the set design, construction and operation.  Bravo to all.  

The entire weekend experience made me want to come home and learn more about Rome,  I will be reading Julius Caesar's account of the Gallic Wars, and am very interested in learning about the entire Roman Empire, especially the five "good" Emperors, one of whom as Hadrian.  What went wrong?

Next year's Games have been scheduled for May 1,2, and 3.  I will get a better hotel room, and a couple of us are thinking about going as a group in costume.  It should be great fun.