Edge of Paris

A Story of Paris on the Edges of Time

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As I reached the top of the stairs at the gallery, I was allowed in past the doorway into the library and archive. There, I was greeted by a lovely French woman who shook my hand and then ushered me in the room; she stared intently at me. More than just a brief review of my face and features, she studied me closely, then looked away as if she recognized me. This was interesting, as I had never been to this museum before, though I had communicated via email. She brought me into the inner chamber, where many letters, drawings and books awaited me. I sat down looking around me and realized that there had been a long journey to arrive here and it had only just begun.

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The young and hopeful artist, the older more jaded Man seated in this portrait shows his unique charisma; it explains why he was so popular with the ladies. He was, in a word, a very handsome man who had that quality that drew other notables of the period into his circle. His romances, were legendary, some even, quite everyday. He never married.

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A Rockstar, of the 19th century art world, Eugene Delacroix. There were rumors that his “real” father was a government official, which is why he had much success in working for the French Government often hired to paint state building interiors, and create large and monumental works for which is he today known. He grew up in a small town outside Paris, and once he arrived in the midst of the Romantic period, his lifestyle was both artistic, bohemian, from rags to riches and always he was a darling of certain social circles in Paris.

As I climbed up the stairs of the museum for the first time, I realized that the energy emanating from the stairwell was nothing short of remarkable.  Here was the last piece of his studio that had not been “touched” by renovation or the modern day contractors who often “sweep” away the original architecture of a building in the name of modernism. The energy was real, authentic and I could say without a doubt, that it moved me to tell his story.

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Flower Shops on the way to the Museum Delecroix where the studio of Eugene Delacroix still remains.

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Eugene Delacroix, Romantic Artist who became famous for his painting of LIBERTY, the woman who carries the banner for France as it fights for freedom. He was in every respects an Academy Painter, but his daily existence was to question the very art of painting. Perhaps today, he would be a cinematographer, his grasp of both romance and reality, second to none. Later, Impressionist artists would share how he had influenced them, and he would share how his visit to London, and his viewing of the paintings by Turner and Constable, would influence him. So, my obsession with the man, the artist, the romantic painter would now begin in Paris, first by my visit to the Delacroix Studio and Museum on the Left Bank. I arrived on the rue Furstenberg, fortified by my coffee from a nearby cafe crossed the street to the entrance of the museum, which is a courtyard designed for coaches in the past century to pull up, and drop off their passengers. I entered and climbed up the wide oak and iron stairway to meet the museum volunteer, above.

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Before we go on, one of my favorite French authors is Georges Sand. Well, she wrote perfectly awful romantic novels but her true achievement was that she had one of the most significant love affairs of the romantic period. She had a lifelong affair with Fredrick Chopin, whom she took care of and who thrived in spite of his ill health she was fiercely devoted to him. They stayed at Nohant, the petite country estate owned by her family for generations outside Paris.

One of her other great talents was dinner parties, and cooking which were famous in their day. To receive an invitation by the controversial and scandalous author was quite an honor. She was a great friend of Delacroix; his diary tells of the many unique evenings they shared, in the company of many luminaries of the day.

Recipe for Gateaux Au Chocolat from the kitchen of Georges Sands.

¼ Amande douces que l'on rape sans l'avoir mondees. ½ Livres de chocolate rape aven sucre poudre 70 grams de farine ½ Livre de buerre 6 jaunes d'ouefs

Well…. you just blend in the above ingredients with egg whites from the reserved 6 eggs with melted butter until the mixture is ready to pour into the baking pan. Then put into a pre-heated oven then watch it rise and let cool at room temperature.

Recipe from Georges own family recipe book, write me for the full translation.

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She awoke the next morning to a sunny sky in Paris. A short walk to the square near St. Sulpice was where she stopped and looked up. His paintings were inside the church but she was not ready yet to see them. They had taken everything out of him. It was the part of the story she was not ready to look at, it was too sad.

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OBSESSION. Her boyfriend had called her studies of 19th century French art and culture an addiction. True, they had taken over her life slowly, painfully leaving him behind. She realized perhaps she had gone too far, taking on the Romantic period. It was more than just a period or time to her, much more. The written word, the art of conversation, the ideals of freedom, all mixed up in the atmosphere. The Artist, whom she specialized, was perhaps her greatest obsession of all.

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Once inside, she headed to the bar where she met Him. He quietly ordered a drink for her and toasted her. Then he spoke. After many months of their separation he looked closely at her hoping she would change her mind, but it was made up. She would go to Paris as she had planned, without him.

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That night, she would meet friends and colleagues at a restaurant to celebrate her departure to Paris. Her project was to document the life of an artist: his work, his loves, his passions. For her, this meant his life, was her life, so there was no room for entanglements of any kind. She stepped out of the cab and entered the lighted restaurant.

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Looking out to the crowd of students as they filed into the lecture hall, she thought for a moment about what she would say. Where would she begin, with the passion or the obsession.

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Chapter 2

A crowd had gathered in the lecture hall as she looked out into the room where a slideshow was set up on the screen for a lecture. Artists of the French Romantic Period was today’s subject. The lights went down and the room grew quiet as she stepped out onto the stage. She knew where to begin. That part was easy; where she would go from here was more of a mystery.

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Chapter 1.

The carriage careened as it approached the bridge with the distinct sound of horses hooves clattering over the cobblestones. A pathway across the bridge was marked by moonlight that faded along its edge. The coachman raced across to the Left Bank his coat tails flying behind him.  The outline of a young man’s face could be seen from the windows as the coach swept by urged on by the coachman’s whip. It disappeared into the darkness. All was quiet again.

Posted on April 25, 2016