Paris is the quintessential European setting for history, culture, romance, art, cuisine, and of course fashion. The people and sights of the city have been captured endlessly in films, plays, books, music, television shows, photographs, paintings, and practically any other conceivable art form. This year alone, many Parisian landmarks have starred on the silver screen: the Louvre museum was the dramatic background for “The Da Vinci Code,” the Opera Garnier – originally made famous in “The Phantom of the Opera” – appeared again in “Marie Antoinette,” and even the Hotel Ritz stole a few scenes in “The Devil Wears Prada.”
However, there is another cultural institution that didn’t make it on film but that plays a prominent role in the landscape of Paris and in my own life: the Musée d’Orsay. The Orsay contains Paris’ premier collection of early-modern and Impressionist artwork, ranging from 1848 to 1914 and featuring France’s most celebrated artists – Courbet, Manet, Degas, Monet, Renoir, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Gauguin and Seurat.
More than just a storehouse for art, the museum itself is an architectural tour de force. The building’s original incarnation was as the Gare d’Orsay, an elaborate train station built for the 1900 World’s Fair. The architectural design perfectly represents the Modernist style of turn-of-the-century Europe, combining intricate industrial ironwork with elegant stucco and carved-stone decoration. When the site became a museum in 1986, the original design was maintained and visiting the Orsay today is like stepping back into to 20th century France.
During the five months I spent in Paris, the Musée d’Orsay became one of my favorite destinations. After studying art history for years, it was so fulfilling to see first-hand all the masterpieces I had learned about in books. The more time I spent at the museum, the more I began to feel at ease, finding my own special routes through the galleries, absorbing the artwork and discovering new things during each visit. In a way, it was my home away from home, a place I could come to unwind and find comfort in the familiar paintings. Blissfully wandering through the halls, I found myself disappearing into the worlds of the many artists.
I took an art history course while living in Paris, and we were allowed priority access to the museum an hour before it was open to the general public. These were some of my favorite visits because the museum was void of all the aimless tourists, who crowded in herds around the paintings on their audio-tours. It was hard not to feel a bit of snobbery when we witnessed such visitors, who often only came to see the pieces that would give them the most bragging rights and failed to appreciate the hundreds of other amazing works. So in the early mornings, when the museum was still empty and quiet, it was a tranquil, almost spiritual experience being alone with the art. The halls seemed much larger and the works appeared more magnificent when we had complete, uninterrupted access.
One of the best galleries to experience in solitude was the pastel collection by Edgar Degas. I have been in love with the artist’s ballet paintings ever since I was a young ballerina myself. The pastels are displayed in a small, barely lit room, so dark that the first time I visited I was slightly upset that the paintings weren’t in a more visible presentation. However, the dark display is necessary to preserve the quality of the fragile pastels, and once I allowed my eyes to adjust, I realized the unusual lighting actually enhanced the viewing experience by replicating the environment of the paintings. I felt as if I had stepped into the world of Degas, standing in the dark shadows behind the scenes and gazing out at the dancers under the soft glow of the stage lights.
Just as Degas’ work drew me into the scenes on the canvases, Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings drew me into the world of the artist. The first time I entered the Van Gogh room I was overcome by the vibrant display of personal emotion in his work. The turbulent brushwork and dazzling colors are so much more powerful in reality than I ever imagined while viewing the reproductions. “Starry Night,” “The Bedroom” and “The Church in Auvers” are all poignant depictions of the intense and troubled passions of the artists. It was impossible to even pass by the paintings without being deeply affected.
Every visit to the museum was an emotional experience and I never failed to be amazed by the incredible display of talent and creativity. The artwork both invigorated and comforted me as if I had entered my own private world. I was often reminded of a book I read as a child titled “From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.” The story follows two young children who run away from home and hide out in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They live amongst the collections, bathing in the fountains and sleeping in the royal bed of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. If I could choose a museum to live in, it would be the Musée d’Orsay, forever idling in the gardens of Monet, enjoying evenings at the opera with Degas, and spending nights under the marvelous stars of Van Gogh.
