This is one of those times when I knew the photographs would fail me (and I only had my cheap phone camera), but I took them anyways. I came upon this scene of a man reading to a woman in park and I couldn't disturb it by getting too close. The woman's Gauginesque back and arm, the man reading with such formality and intent, all of it grasped my attention. Periodically, the man stopped reading and they both appeared to silently take in the meaning of his words. I am glad I dared to walk to another vantage point because from there I could see the magenta flower in the woman's hair and a young girl lying on the woman's lap, reading her own book. Where in the world could such a thing happen in 2016? What kind of man would dare to enact such a scene in public? Have the troubadours come back to life?
I come to Paris to be reminded that art and love are one and the same. Both are driven by a desire for wholeness, creativity, truth, surprise. At the Centre Pompidou, I saw a Balthus that was just donated to the museum. I haven't seen a reproduction of it anywhere and, standing there, I felt that coming all the way to Paris was worth it just to see this one painting. A new Balthus at the Pompidou, Paris Art, like love, sometimes involves transgression. Balthus said, " I want to proclaim in broad daylight, with sincerity and feeling, all the throbbing tragedy of a drama of the flesh, proclaim vociferously, the deep-rooted laws of instinct." I learned to love Balthus as a student in Wayne Thiebaud's painting class in college. From the perspective of the painter looking at a Balthus, one quickly sees past the erotic elements and is struck by his masterful technique, a method based on years spent on one painting, using paints hand mixed each morning by his wife,...