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Grisaille
A grey day in Paris (photo by Charlie Tatum)Grisaille means greyness. It came up today in an article I was reading in Le Monde, I think the article by Slavoj Zizek about communism 20 years after the fall of the Berlin wall. I recall that in the article, grisaille referred to the sort of mental or atmospheric state of communism itself. The word, in that context, surprised me at first.
Today Paris oozes grisaille. Outside the two big French doors in my apartment, there’s the big grey static sky, my grey balcony, the greyish-beige apartment building across the street. I am making my second cup of tea this afternoon, because my apartment, no matter how high I turn the heat up and no matter how many sweatshirts I wear, doesn’t seem to want to get warm. I think a lot of people find it depressing when the weather is grisaille, but it’s relaxing to me. Or at least it would be if I wasn’t so cold.
This morning I went out to do some food shopping. It’s Sunday morning; my entire neighborhood was out doing the same thing. I bought a Kouign Amann, a Breton pastry, at the bakery, and a newspaper from the man at the news table just outside. I went to the little supermarket for cereal, rice, and apples. And next door at the produce market, I bought a head of lettuce, a zucchini, and a big group of tomatoes, all still connected by their green vine. It’s not the most convenient way of food shopping (admittedly, I could have bought my tomatoes in the supermarket, but they looked bruised and unhappy), but it’s a nice way to spend a grey Sunday morning. And it’s a habit I think I’ll miss when I go back to New York: there aren’t really any simple produce markets, and buying fruits and vegetables at a greenmarket is usually expensive. There’s also the feeling in the U.S. that buying produce at greenmarkets is pretentious; in France, it’s a popular (in the sense of the general public) activity, almost a given—I think most people know, or assume, that market produce is often better, and fresher, than at the supermarket. And so I wait on line to pay for my groceries with little old French ladies toting around their purchases in cloth bags on wheels.
Location
Paris
ahh!
Dana dear... I just read your blog post after posting mine, and realized I made some of the exact same comments: Markets here (sweet), markets in New York (upper-crusty),and caddies (your "cloth bags on wheels.") Weird! I blame our psychic connection, but perhaps more importantly, the endurance and ubiquity of such Frenchy traditions as the market, and the old ladies that populate it ;o)
Grisaille
I'd love to read this article now! What a great phrase... and it really does describe lots of areas of East Berlin. Many buildings here have a uniformity strongly reminiscent of the communist era. I guess it really was only 20 years ago, which is insane to think about. Especially on days when the weather is grey as well, East Berlin just "oozes grisaille", as you put it.
I agree about the green markets too - it's almost bourgeoise to buy fresh produce in the US because of how expensive it is (espeically in New York), but I'm buying more vegetables here than anything else. There's a bi-weekly outdoor Turkish market that's unbelievably cheap. I'm definitely going to miss produce shopping like this when we get back.