Rodin

You know, a person can sometimes see too many museums and churches and monuments. I have never liked to say things like: "Oh, I'm just 'museumed' out" because it sounds so pretentious, but sometimes it really is true. There IS a syndrome called Museum Fatigue. It's just an overload of beauty, your mind can only capture so much. However, I was not at that point yet when we went to see the Rodin Museum, and to tell the truth, after having been there, I don't think that I could ever be "museumed out" there. The museum itself is in the 18th century Hotel Biron, and you can wander around rooms that feel almost like a home, there are huge fireplaces, pictures on the walls (albeit they are Van Gogh and the like), "regular" windows that are open, and those wonderful creaky wooden floors that I so adore, I've written about those before! Not only is the museum inside the hotel, there are also a great many of Rodin's works out in the garden, where you can wander about and sit and contemplate The Thinker, as he contemplates whatever it is that he thinks about. You can stand before The Gates of Hell and contemplate your own mortality, and you can look at the statue of Ugolino in the pond and wonder what you would do if you were in his shoes, so to speak. (You have to check out Dante's Divine Comedy for more on Ugolino) It was a grey day when we were there, perfect for looking at these somewhat gloomy masterpieces, and the gardens were empty, it was quite a wonderful feeling to have it almost all to ourselves. The first picture is a different perspective of The Thinker, usually you see it from the other angle, but I like to look at things differently. I like the sharp angles of the trees, looking so stern and perfect, made by nature but changed by man, and then you can see the back of the Thinker, also made by man, but it looks so warm and almost alive, and so smooth. You'd think the trees, being alive, would give off that feeling, and the statue, being iron (bronze? I'm not sure) would feel cold, but it's the opposite. Very odd. And you wonder if he is bent over in anguish, or what he feels, even though he isn't real. The bottom picture, to me, is a wonderful snapshot of a typical Parisian in his beret, examining The Gates of Hell. Maybe it was just some tourist from Hoboken, but the joy of photographing strangers is that you can make up your own story. I have a friend, an old gentleman who now lives in Australia, and when I met him, I was in Italy, on my way to Paris. Michel spoke poor English, and he said to me one day, "We have been in Rome, where we are surrounded by Kulture, with a "K"." And of course I didn't correct him, thinking fondly to myself something along the lines of: " How sweet, his spelling is almost correct." However, he then continued: "Now we will go to Paris, and see Culture with a "C". I think of that quite often, and this picture really captures that statement, I think. A few years after that, Michel wrote a book about his childhood in Paris during the war and sent me a copy. It quite put me in my place, I felt like: "How dare you be so condescending to an old man, thinking he cannot spell, that you are...mmm, maybe smarter, or better educated, when in actuality you know nothing about him." Meeting him, and reading his book changed my way of looking at people, and that was certainly not the last time that travel has opened my eyes in a way that is more than just seeing different sights. I didn't mean to go all philosophical in this post...however, it's my blog and I can do what I like!