Posts Tagged 'pompidou'

White Nights, Art in the City

Centre Pompidou, the buidling itself like an art installation

Last Saturday was the ninth edition of Nuit Blanche in Paris, an all-night arts festival where museums, galleries, churches, and just about any other public or private space that wants throws open their doors to creative exhibitions.

The open street also becomes a living playground. Light shows, sculptures, installations, performance art; you were bound to run into all of these things last Saturday, if you just set your mind to wandering.

I didn’t get to see much of Nuit Blanche, unfortunately. I was inside at a friend’s going away party. (I did, however, witness a whole different late night scene as my friend lives on Rue St. Denis, which – how to put this delicately – is where “working ladies of the night” and their clientele meet. That, however, is a whole other story.)

Nuit Blanche or not, Paris is known as an art capital year-round, with a bazillion museums and art galleries to its credit (close approximation). You may remember my gushing about the recent Yves Saint Laurent expo. Not only did I love the exhibition, but I adored being in the Petit Palais (little palace) at midnight.

That outing gave me the idea to pitch a short article about other Paris museums where you can get your late-night art fix. I picked a few major museums and coupled them with dining suggestions and voila! My latest published clip at Girls’ Guide to Paris!

Enjoy the article and bon weekend!

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Sun Daze

I don’t always succeed, but usually I try to share a somewhat focused story with you here, more than simply a random list of what I’ve been up to.

However, with the long-anticipated return of sunny warm weather (I was beginning to think my winter coat might become year-round attire) I just had to go out EVERYWHERE during this past 3-day weekend; dive into the city that’s come alive. No structured theme for me.

Suddenly stripping down to small tank tops and short skirts felt a bit strange. Maybe everything just strikes me as strange these days, surreal elements popping up all over Paris:

Treehouses sprouting on modern art museums,

The Pompidou's been planted with treehouses!

whole animals roasted in front of the Town Hall,

Vegetarians beware! Big BBQ at the Hotel de Ville!

a (4 million euro!) garden covering the Champs Elysees.

Not actually that exciting

(I’m no expert, but I think someone should consult me about proper use of municipal funds).

The heat made some people batty, characters came out in full force.

Put those clothes back on!

Get a load of that!

(Confession: These were actually actors in a play I ran across in front of Saint Sulpice. If you couldn’t tell from the photos, overacting was in full display).

Lobby of the Odeon Theater

I spied a few higher brow things, too, including the inside of the Odeon Theater. I just happened to be strolling with a theater historian at this moment (funny how that happens) whose specialty was theater from the ’68 era. The Odeon had been taken over in ’68 and became something of the protest’s headquarters in Paris, she explained. (Who knew?)

I had never even noticed the building before. I have this kind of Paris blindness sometimes. Though I never grow weary of the beauty of Paris, there are just so many famous historical buildings that I can’t even keep track. What’s that? A visitor might ask. Um, another gorgeous landmark, I reply.

As I lunched in front of Beaubourg, a man on a bike rode up and wished me ‘bon appetit.’

Thanks, I said.

You’re very pretty, too.

Thanks. (I’m very polite you see).

Ah, les hommes sont penibles, non?. Men are tiresome right?

Un peu. A little.

But you should take it as a compliment.

I went to hear honky tonk, also a surreal scene in Paris

Thanks. I did.

Parisians, we’re flirters.

Yes, you are.

He asked me for coffee, but I kindly declined. (I thought about asking him to offer me ice cream instead, but thought better of it).

It was a nice enough encounter – he did not insist (je ne insiste pas? he had asked hopefully before riding off).

Even the draguers seem charming with such beautiful weather. Everything, really, becomes a real pick-me-up. The city shines anew.


paris (im)perfect?

Sion Dayson is paris (im)perfect. Writer, dreamer, I moved to France on – no exaggerating – a romantic whim. As you can imagine, a lot can go wrong (and very right!) with such a (non)plan. These are the (im)perfect stories that result.

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