Le Lourve

Paris! How does one start describing this city? Maybe some day I will scrounge up the courage needed to explain this city to you readers, but not yet. Not when I have spent but a scant two days in it. But on one of these two days, I walked into a building and the moment I set foot within its walls, I knew what I was going to write about. The Musée du Louvre. Or well, a part of it. You'll soon see. A massive fort and palace built on the banks of the Seine, Palais du Louvre was the seat of the French royalty and government till it was moved to Versailles by Louis XIV in 1648. Construction began in the 16th century and it was constantly expanded well into the 19th century. But the dates and times are minor details. Though I recount them now, I really paid them little or no attention while I was gazing around at the magnificence that surrounded me. For a few hours that day I had forgotten about history. Did it really matter if the statue of Augustus was carved while he was alive or after he passed away? Did it matter if the rooms with the exquisite murals on the ceilings belonged to Anne of Austria or of Mary, Queen of Scots? Or if the Winged Victory of Samothrace was Greek or Etruscan? For those few hours, as soulful eyes gazed at me from white marble and coloured canvas, the answer was no. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me walk you through from the beginning, for there is plenty to talk about of the outside too. Hope you've had your breakfast because this is a long one. And as I finish the article, I am coming back here to apologize in advance for the overly sentimental nature I adopt in this presentation. I hope, if I have done this right, by the end of the page you will understand the reasons that made me so. 

The best way to get the Louvre is over the bridge, Pont des Arts, with the morning light glinting off the thousands of brass "love padlocks" covered in droplets from the night's rain. A short tunnel like arch leads you into a vast open square surrounded by high walls on all four sides. On that chilly morning under the cover of clouds, as I stood in the center of the courtyard beside the fountain that spouted clear water high into the air, there was a certain sense of tranquility. I was amazed by the size and beauty of the four pairs of stone women carved high up on the facade, looking out at their lovely city and with the bearded old men and the sword bearing soldier at their sides. Innumerable carved men and women peaked out at me from the niches in the walls, each one with their own individual personality. I spent a good half hour walking around the courtyard noticing the smaller details, but then it was time to join the ant like tourists brushing past me, scarcely looking up at this lovely courtyard because they had an planned agenda to follow. So I followed them under a second arch, to another courtyard spanned on either side by newer wings of the fort and was greeted with a more popular sight - the glass pyramids.

The queue was a mile long and I stood in it for an hour. And yet, there was little reason to complain as the slow march took me around this second courtyard, allowing me to observe closely at the numerous statues that lined the terraces. Names sprung up from childhood readings. Mathematicians and scientists Lavosier, L'Hôpital and Descartes looked down at me, and I could feel their accusing glances for all the times that I had erred with their life's work. There stood Richelieu in a regal stance, Mazarin with a tired countenance and Voltaire with an impish smile. And it was not only the people in stone that kept me amused but even the ones still alive. The short man in Peter Pan's green tights posing for the finger pressing down the pyramid photo, the girl in pink crouching down awkwardly posing for the pyramid on the palm, the two fat kids trying desperately to jump in time with their thinner counterparts - the cliches were out in full force. I had the constant chatter in the varied tongues of the tourists to keep me company, reminding me of all the places I still want to visit. And finally as the hour passed, I entered the pyramid descending into the lower levels of the Louvre.


After a quick dash to purchase a ticket and rent a recorded audio guide, I was ready to begin. I chose one of the three wings at random and entered, having decided to cover the rooms in systematic order so as not to miss anything. And in less than 15 minutes, I was completely lost. Even with a GPS installed audio-guide in my hand. The vastness of the place is beyond imagination. The interconnects between the various rooms, the multiple staircases connecting the various floors and the pathways running between the various wings all formed a maze so intricate that in half an hour, I had entered a whole other wing of the museum and not known it. But I did not care.

I passed by a section on Greek and Etruscan antiquities displaying the usual pots and pans of the ancient civilizations. I browsed through the room on Islamic art. And then I ran into a broad torso of a muscular man that seemed to be guarding entry to the stairs behind him. And those stairs led up to some of the most exquisite chambers I have ever seen. Relief sculptures of men, women and children draped in plated gold lined the edges where the walls joined the ceiling. A pattern of gold bordered the ceiling, leading the eye to its center, which was covered in massive murals. My neck strained from looking up as I walked along these rooms trying to take in the imagery from these paintings. It would have been nice to have a bed that I could lie on and look up, but I guess for such luxuries  you have to be a queen.

Looking up was not enough though. The rooms were also full of sculptures on display - freestanding and reliefs, busts and full bodied, clothed and naked, human and animal. Augustus, Hadrian, Caligula, Claudius... the list of personalities depicted in this room alone was staggering. The audioguide talked into my ear providing quite interesting pieces of information like how the subject of the sculpture is identified to be Augustus by the pincer and fork arrangement of his hair, how the age of Hadrian's bust was estimated by the remains of paint in the pupils of the eyes. Most of these were from the old Greek and Roman eras carved over 2000 years ago. Yet they could have been carved the previous day, such was the state of their preservation.

I was in those chambers for a long time. But I had recently spent 600 pages of paper and 80 years of life alongside Michelangelo and so I was dying to get to the sculptures from the Italian Renaissance. After a break for a slice of expensive pizza and a coffee, I charted out the required route on my guide. As I write this, I realize that there are no words to describe the pieces of art I saw in those rooms that day. The best I can do is show you their photographs, while recognizing the irony of capturing these three dimensional artworks on flat pictures. To be honest, as impressive as I found Michelangelo's Captives to be, they were possibly overshadowed by the many others beside them. But then I also knew that these two sculptures of his were left unfinished, part of the ill-fated tomb of Pope Julius II. There were numerous others pieces of shining marble - many many more which I am too ignorant to name. A cupid and psyche locked in passionate embrace, a virgin and child, an angel about to take flight, a delicate face hidden under a veil of marble, ... the list is endless. I took in my fill of these wonderful sights. I wanted to stay forever in this museum and at the same time leave. I could not digest any more and my feet were turning to rubber. I decided to head up to see the Mona Lisa and leave.

Following the numerous signposts directing the crowd towards the one painting they had all come to see, I reached the painting galleries. I walked by not daring to linger long for fear that I might wish to stay. I came to the Mona Lisa with a thick crowd around it. It was a dulled painting of an average subject, more like a celebrity than a talented artiste. Perhaps to art connoisseurs it means a lot. The audio commentary kept telling me how the background with its aerial view was the first of its kind, how the smile was probably da Vinci's clever wordplay with the lady's surname - la Gioconda, how the pose is natural and relaxed and how the angle is an invitation into the painting. And yet, probably because I was tired, or because I was too thick in the head to understand, I did not get the hype behind the painting. I turned to leave after the customary photograph, when  the painting on the opposite wall caught my eye. I say caught my eye, but in reality it was four times the height of man, so it was hard to miss. The Wedding Feast at Cana painted by Veronèse, describing the biblical scene where Christ turned the water into wine. It was a massive painting with amazing detail. Christ beside his mother Mary, flanked on the left by monks and on the right by nobility.

I circled the room to see another exquisite picture of Paradise, painted as circular stages. The voice in my ear told me that it, and other similar paintings, were all based on Dante's concept from Divine Comedy. I had seen such paintings but had never made the connection, nor realized that the imagery of Paradise and Hell were completely reinvented for artists by Dante. I tore my gaze away and legged it towards the exit. But the museum was not done enthralling me.

On the way to my destination, I came across another room of sculptures. On high pedestals stood marvelous figures of white marble, more human than the ones walking underneath. I am unsure what it was about them that moved me so much - their gigantic size, the light reflecting off the polished white stone, the regal poses in which they were carved or just the sight of the sheer collection as a whole.  And as I stood in their midst, I started laughing silently. I did not know if people passing me thought me mad. But I wasn't bothered. I realized that the same passion that caused all the troubles of the world were also in some form responsible for these works of art. It's a passion that springs from the inside, something that these best of men managed to capture in pieces of stone. I am not particularly pessimistic about humanity's future, yet my heart filled with hope at man's genius and ability. But I had also realized that it was a place that is best seen alone. It makes you think and it makes you feel. Thoughts and feelings that can only come from the inside and anyone else's words would only be a disturbance.

I walked out of the museum content. And yet not so. What I report above are but nail clippings to the entire body of work contained within those walls. In six or so hours I had managed to see less than a third. Among all the artworks on display there, probably one just as great was the museum itself. The Louvre palace was itself beautiful and the artwork as a collection just made the place special. As I stepped out the gate, I knew I would be returning. À bientôt Louvre. See you soon!

And that is the end of my journey, and here I leave you with the rest of the photographs I captured. Just click on the link below. 

Flick page with other photos from the Louvre (will be updated with future visits to the museum)

Updated: Here is a wonderful documentary by historian-writer Andrew Hussey titled "Treasures of the Louvre". It describes beautifully the growth of the Louvre, and its collections, alongside the tumultuous history of France. Indeed as the presenter says - the history of the Louvre is the history of Paris.