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Authors: James O'Reilly
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the as yet intact avenue Henri-Martin when, in early summer, the impenetrable vault of the horse-chestnut trees protects a residue of coolness, and I spy, in this verdant tunnel lit by shafts of sunlight, a lone horseman, oblivious of his time, fleeing at full gallop in the direction of Yesterday .
âJulian Green, Paris , translated by J. A. Underwood
The rue Blanche leads into the quarter traditionally favored by French artists in all fieldsâmostly, the successful ones who were able to build houses for themselves which are at once unique, occasionally eccentric and yet, through some unseen discipline, harmonious. Music, drama and painting are all represented in schools of drama and music, places of birth and death (including the mysterious death of Victor Hugo), personal museums and former theatres. One of my favorites is the Musée Gustave Moreau (where I am the centerpiece of one of my wifeâs exhibition photographs) which houses 850 of his paintings and, they say, 7,000 of his drawings. And there is another jewel of a private museum waiting nearby where the descendants of the Brothers Scheffer have preserved their ateliers set in a pretty, hidden courtyard in two delightful buildings, one ofwhich is described by the scholars as â une petite merveille de bon goût et du plus absolu dernier cri !â
Around the corner is the former Grand Guignol, the precursor of palatial movie houses and gory cinema around the world ( précurseur de lâhémoglobine cinématographique ). Although it reopened as a legitimate theatre in 1962 after 66 years of terrifying movies, it is closed today. Rue Pigalle is, as the guide says, a kind of axis for smaller side-streets with the homes of proud names in French culture: Vuillard, Bonnard, Maurice Denis, Degas, Delaroche, and toward the rue de Martyrs and rue Taitbout, Chopin at number 5 and George Sand at number 9 ( naturellement ), with Alexandre Dumas and Delacroix on the nearby rue de Lorette. Interspersed with these stylish locales are theatres, art schools, and small parks. However, if one ventures to the end of rue Pigalle, 20th-century pornography and its clientele dominate the boulevard between Place Pigalle and Place de Clichy with a concentration that is formidable.
But a clue to the secret of Paris lies at the end of this sub-promenade . Following the text, one makes a turn and suddenly looks up to one of the prettiest sites in ParisâPlace St-Georges with its central statue of the designer Gavarni.
Place St-Georges was once a fountain in a square provided by the ladies of the quarter with water for the horses of this artistic neighborhood. Then came the Métro near the turn of the century with a stop at St-Georges, destroying the fountain. But instead of dooming the square, the incursion (now discreetly hidden) became a challenge which was answered by a typically Parisian response. The lovely statue-monument of Gavarni took the place of the fountain and became the center of a tranquil, tree-lined square surrounded by classic architecture. This includes the superb former residence of Adolphe Thiers, a museum or two, and the home of âla Paiva,â a grand performing artiste .
When I think of the harmony of Paris as the critical element of its beauty, I think of Place St-Georges. The large ochre residence of Thiers, with its triangular Greek cornice, ceiling balustrade, and deep classic windows, is on one side of the square opposite thehalf-gothic, half-renaissance residence of la Paiva. The charming bust of Gavarni studying his plans in the center of the square unifies the whole; the buildings and statue echo each otherâs light stone sculpture and quietly ornate decor.
Perhaps the square was carefully planned that way or perhaps it was simply that instinctive sense of the harmony of space and structure which pervades the city and guided the reconstruction of the square. I recall it as I saw it one day in bright sunshine at the
âJulian Green, Paris , translated by J. A. Underwood
The rue Blanche leads into the quarter traditionally favored by French artists in all fieldsâmostly, the successful ones who were able to build houses for themselves which are at once unique, occasionally eccentric and yet, through some unseen discipline, harmonious. Music, drama and painting are all represented in schools of drama and music, places of birth and death (including the mysterious death of Victor Hugo), personal museums and former theatres. One of my favorites is the Musée Gustave Moreau (where I am the centerpiece of one of my wifeâs exhibition photographs) which houses 850 of his paintings and, they say, 7,000 of his drawings. And there is another jewel of a private museum waiting nearby where the descendants of the Brothers Scheffer have preserved their ateliers set in a pretty, hidden courtyard in two delightful buildings, one ofwhich is described by the scholars as â une petite merveille de bon goût et du plus absolu dernier cri !â
Around the corner is the former Grand Guignol, the precursor of palatial movie houses and gory cinema around the world ( précurseur de lâhémoglobine cinématographique ). Although it reopened as a legitimate theatre in 1962 after 66 years of terrifying movies, it is closed today. Rue Pigalle is, as the guide says, a kind of axis for smaller side-streets with the homes of proud names in French culture: Vuillard, Bonnard, Maurice Denis, Degas, Delaroche, and toward the rue de Martyrs and rue Taitbout, Chopin at number 5 and George Sand at number 9 ( naturellement ), with Alexandre Dumas and Delacroix on the nearby rue de Lorette. Interspersed with these stylish locales are theatres, art schools, and small parks. However, if one ventures to the end of rue Pigalle, 20th-century pornography and its clientele dominate the boulevard between Place Pigalle and Place de Clichy with a concentration that is formidable.
But a clue to the secret of Paris lies at the end of this sub-promenade . Following the text, one makes a turn and suddenly looks up to one of the prettiest sites in ParisâPlace St-Georges with its central statue of the designer Gavarni.
Place St-Georges was once a fountain in a square provided by the ladies of the quarter with water for the horses of this artistic neighborhood. Then came the Métro near the turn of the century with a stop at St-Georges, destroying the fountain. But instead of dooming the square, the incursion (now discreetly hidden) became a challenge which was answered by a typically Parisian response. The lovely statue-monument of Gavarni took the place of the fountain and became the center of a tranquil, tree-lined square surrounded by classic architecture. This includes the superb former residence of Adolphe Thiers, a museum or two, and the home of âla Paiva,â a grand performing artiste .
When I think of the harmony of Paris as the critical element of its beauty, I think of Place St-Georges. The large ochre residence of Thiers, with its triangular Greek cornice, ceiling balustrade, and deep classic windows, is on one side of the square opposite thehalf-gothic, half-renaissance residence of la Paiva. The charming bust of Gavarni studying his plans in the center of the square unifies the whole; the buildings and statue echo each otherâs light stone sculpture and quietly ornate decor.
Perhaps the square was carefully planned that way or perhaps it was simply that instinctive sense of the harmony of space and structure which pervades the city and guided the reconstruction of the square. I recall it as I saw it one day in bright sunshine at the
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