for art's sake!

it was too cold to take photos of the grand palais

There's been an exhibition (be forewarned when using that word in French; it means a stripshow) at the Grand Palais on Picasso and the Old Masters. They've borrowed a very bewildering array of works by Picasso, Velaquez, Ingres, Manet, El Greco, plus a host of others from other museums, and set them up jusxtaposed to one another: Picasso’s works, and those that inspired him. Not only does it cut out an enormous cross-section of art history, this is supposedly the most expensive exhibition in the world, simply because each individual piece is worth so much.

But enough background. I'd been meaning to go to the exhibition months before I got to Paris. A couple of friends and I toyed with the idea of venturing out on the first day, but we got lost and went to the Louvre instead, and got our student cards (free entry!). In the following weeks I've had a mad rush of settling in and school, with absolutely no time to wander around a museum. Now, as of the time this is written, the exhibition ends tomorrow and under normal circumstances, the tickets have been utterly sold out and admissions impossible. However, in response to the overwhelming attention, the Grand Palais decided to extend the show. Not with more days, but by opening it 24/7, like a mini Nuit Blanche.

Of course, being young silly college students, we went (else this entry would be dedicated to something else entirely). Unanimously clamouring at the idea of a night at the museum, we meticulously planned to go only at 1.45am, after the metro closed. Lack of transport, we thought, would greatly reduce the crowd while we camped out at Brioche Dorée – a café chain – on the nearby Champs Elysée. By the time we trekked down to Grand Palais in the freezing cold (and losing our way in the process), the sign at the end of the queue prophesized a 3 hour wait. Aaaaand we waited. In the cold. Nearly subzero. By the time we finally got inside, my toes were so cold they were alternately numb and bitingly painful, my hands were icy, and we kept huddling while jumping up and down in a very pathetic (and failed) attempt to keep warm.

But we did it! At 3.15, we were finally done with queuing (the last half an hour of it was indoors, thankfully) and sat at the cafe to defrost. By the time we left at 5.45, the line was at the same length, the many rooms still equally crowded, and more people arriving because the metro was open. The things we do for art.

P.S About the exhibition itself (which seems so trivial compared to our ordeal): 'twas interesting, particularly because they had Picasso's earlier and other styles of work apart from cubism. Personally, I'm actually not very fond of cubism - I don't really like anything more modern that Cézanne, Manet, Ingres, Monet & Co. - but Picasso's sanguine and charcoal sketches are astounding. I liked his line work too, and there was one with just straight lines that conveyed pure outline and nothing else, yet it captured so much of the female form, expression and attitude of his subject. On the other hand, colours make his work more child-like, like the four of Picasso's responses to Les Maniéres, none of which measured up to the absent original.