Read Online Pictures of the Past by Deby Eisenberg - Free Book Online
Authors: Deby Eisenberg
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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Sisley, a landscape at Argenteuil. But Taylor loved most Claude Monet’s rendering of a French boulevard leading to the Seine and he wondered if he could find that very location during his stay. Taylor’s grandfather, who never boasted about the financial success of his corporation, was validly proud of his acumen in art speculation. His crowd had challenged one another to build their own collections and to become benefactors for museums, especially the Art Institute of Chicago. They had followed the lead of Bertha Honore Palmer, a charismatic socialite and philanthropist and the widow of real estate developer and hotelier Potter Palmer. She had been instrumental in bringing art to the Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893, and is said to have returned from her European tour with eleven Renoirs and twenty-nine Monets, one of which was eventually purchased by her friend Addison Woodmere.
The Paris Exposition was housed along the shores of the Seine, and unlike many previous world fairs in outlying areas of a city, this one molded itself into the existing urban landscape. New buildings mixed with existing edifices to house the attractions. On the site of the old Trocadero, the new Palais de Chaillot was constructed, with a portico of over one hundred and fifty columns. People would enter the grounds through the space between its two massive wings, which curved as if they were holding the entire fair in a maternal embrace. The fair extended from the Place du Trocadero along a wide-open esplanade to the Eiffel Tower, which, itself, had premiered at the Paris World’s Fair of 1889.
But underneath the serene beauty of the fair were undercurrents of a world on edge. In this tumultuous year of 1937, the pavilions themselves seemed to symbolize the rising tensions among European nations. The towering buildings for the Soviet Union and for Nazi Germany, both huge and grandstanding, faced one another across the walkway pond, posed as if not only ideological, but also military battles were already underway. They each looked like colossal trophies. At the summit of the Soviet building, two enormous sculptured figures, a worker and peasant by Vera Mukhina, held the hammer and sickle in a triumphant stance; atop the Nazi German roof, perched a huge, arrogant metal eagle.
As he followed Francois through the fairgrounds to the major art exhibit, Taylor was struck by the diversity of the crowd. Nationalities were easily identifiable by their attire. Here was a stereotypical Parisian, bereted and goateed, dressed as if he had just walked out of his studio on the Left Bank. And there was a frumpy, cheery, rosy-cheeked mother of three, chasing after her enfants, as if they were still at their farm in the Loire Valley. The businessmen were easy to spot. Walking in groups, holding briefcases or notepads, they pointed and nodded in waves of agreement and switched directions like schools of fish.
When they finally entered the Petit-Palais, Taylor could not decide which way to look. He was drawn first to one artist, and then he would turn and the vibrancy of another display would call to him. Continually, he exchanged glances with Francois, who was finally allowing him to enjoy the art at his own pace, and he could sense that his fervor was entertainment for the man.
The hall was large and well stocked and people were in lines of two and three deep, barely moving along as they rocked slightly in place with the rhythm of small boats tied at the shore, captured by the ebb and flow of the waves. First, they would walk close to see the artistry of the work, and then pull back, because an Impressionist painting was best viewed from a distance, when the vibrant individual brush strokes would suddenly become cohesive and the scene would be revealed. He was reluctant to become part of the main lines and so he stood almost in the middle of the room surveying the entirety, perhaps finally following Francois’ advice, slowing down, getting an overview
The Paris Exposition was housed along the shores of the Seine, and unlike many previous world fairs in outlying areas of a city, this one molded itself into the existing urban landscape. New buildings mixed with existing edifices to house the attractions. On the site of the old Trocadero, the new Palais de Chaillot was constructed, with a portico of over one hundred and fifty columns. People would enter the grounds through the space between its two massive wings, which curved as if they were holding the entire fair in a maternal embrace. The fair extended from the Place du Trocadero along a wide-open esplanade to the Eiffel Tower, which, itself, had premiered at the Paris World’s Fair of 1889.
But underneath the serene beauty of the fair were undercurrents of a world on edge. In this tumultuous year of 1937, the pavilions themselves seemed to symbolize the rising tensions among European nations. The towering buildings for the Soviet Union and for Nazi Germany, both huge and grandstanding, faced one another across the walkway pond, posed as if not only ideological, but also military battles were already underway. They each looked like colossal trophies. At the summit of the Soviet building, two enormous sculptured figures, a worker and peasant by Vera Mukhina, held the hammer and sickle in a triumphant stance; atop the Nazi German roof, perched a huge, arrogant metal eagle.
As he followed Francois through the fairgrounds to the major art exhibit, Taylor was struck by the diversity of the crowd. Nationalities were easily identifiable by their attire. Here was a stereotypical Parisian, bereted and goateed, dressed as if he had just walked out of his studio on the Left Bank. And there was a frumpy, cheery, rosy-cheeked mother of three, chasing after her enfants, as if they were still at their farm in the Loire Valley. The businessmen were easy to spot. Walking in groups, holding briefcases or notepads, they pointed and nodded in waves of agreement and switched directions like schools of fish.
When they finally entered the Petit-Palais, Taylor could not decide which way to look. He was drawn first to one artist, and then he would turn and the vibrancy of another display would call to him. Continually, he exchanged glances with Francois, who was finally allowing him to enjoy the art at his own pace, and he could sense that his fervor was entertainment for the man.
The hall was large and well stocked and people were in lines of two and three deep, barely moving along as they rocked slightly in place with the rhythm of small boats tied at the shore, captured by the ebb and flow of the waves. First, they would walk close to see the artistry of the work, and then pull back, because an Impressionist painting was best viewed from a distance, when the vibrant individual brush strokes would suddenly become cohesive and the scene would be revealed. He was reluctant to become part of the main lines and so he stood almost in the middle of the room surveying the entirety, perhaps finally following Francois’ advice, slowing down, getting an overview
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