Original Intent

When I have paid a museum fee to view historical artifacts, no matter how attractively set up, I do not fully appreciate the work. To comprehend a piece of art, I have to consider the composition at the original site.  Without this opportunity, I miss the artist’s deliberation of place; the forethought of how to convey the message using individual technique, stylized details, in order to triumph in a unique space is conspiciously missing.   

Take for example, the work of a twelfth century itinerant sculptor known in France as the “Master of Cabestany”.   (The actual name of this artist has not been recorded but in the Languedoc region he is revered as a genius of masonry.)



http://www.theworldinlight.com/

This photo was taken standing outside zooming in on the detail in
the magnificent setting intended for the art to be displayed.

http://www.theworldinlight.com/

After examining one of his masterpieces in an artificial setting, I left feeling uninspired.   But, for me, beholding his large-handed, bulbous-eyed figures in the recesses under the roofline of the curved nave of St-Papoul’s Abbey was dramatic.  The idea that many works of art have become the spoils of war and later show up in a museum half-way around the world evoke the idea within me that the essence of the piece was destroyed … I leave such displays feeling deflated. 

(Note:  An exception to this statement may be paintings … viewing them with the proper lighting and proxixmity does evoke my imagination.  After all, they were most often created on a canvas without the benefit of knowing where the picture will be displayed.)

What is historically worthy?

 

http://www.theworldinlight.com/
This North Rose window of St. Nazaire, Cacasonne was created in the early 1300's.

For the past three weeks, I have been studying the stained glass of the medieval churches.  This major pictorial art form in France has for the most part been cherished. I understand that at some point in the French Revolution (and during other of the seemingly endless wars), windows were taken out and buried to preserve but many were destroyed and later restored.  Without having the background knowledge to know for sure what time period I am observing I do believe that I am beginning to be able to identify a cathedral window that is very old.  For example, St. Nazaire located within the walls of the Carcassonne Castle has windows from different centuries ... work from the 1300’s is truly genius caliber.  I have learned that a Benedictine Monk had the foresight to write some of the glass processing development down … many methods are lost … artists cannot reproduce some of the colors today.   

http://www.theworldinlight.com/

Recording procedures on how to make something is beneficial.  On the other hand, the accuracy of written accounts of history depends on the stand point of the writer.  It is impossible for me to conclude a historical edict about what was gained in wars of the past … after visiting the sites and reading about the destruction and deaths, the idea that a crusade against “a philosophy” can ever be “glorious” or “knightly” is dimmed.  The remaining art, like the amazing stained glass, does reflect back to me that many people did appreciate and want to protect fine art from their region.  I believe I understand this ... a continuity linking us together.

Art

From time to time I question the value of what I do ... I write.  The language I draw from comes from the heart ... but is recording what I introspectively feel  beneficial to anyone?  In comparison, my friend takes pictures.  His interpretation is contained within the photo frames as he edits his work, he adjusts depth of color, scope ... the angle of the lens, the light, perspective by zooming in to focus on one small aspect of the entire composition but what he perceives is still, for the most part, in context.  A viewer may not get the entire picture but does see what was in the camera’s eye.  Is writing using my sixth sense as a guide giving the reader an accurate image of what is authentic?  Am I allowing enough empty canvas for another point of view?  Isn’t it foolhardy for me to believe that the prose that I produce reveals sagacity?  Although I strive to write with integrity, what I take notice of may be inaccurate not only for me, but for the reader as well. 

I am in the Languedoc Wine Country.

Wine making is everywhere in southern France.  Today I visited a cave and one of the proprietors was inside serving up samples to clients and answering questions.  Behind the presentation area, several stainless steel vats lined the walls.  The owner was enthusiastic and was pleased that I would want to try wine from different grape types.  On the hillsides surrounding the cave were fields of grape vines growing in perfectly straight rows, each vine heavy laden with fruit.  What I witnessed is a passion and pride ... I believe these two words accurately describe the art of making wine.  (I could not help but recall an old episode of I Love Lucy that still makes me laugh; the link is below if you'd like to view.) There is no silliness in reality;  instead producing wine is a labor of love, no foot stomping, but a hands on operation with careful consideration of the cultivating, planting, picking, the bottling, cork and label selection ... quite an education for me to witness people caring about every detail of their work. 

To view "I Love Lucy" click below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AGkG1LYOrc&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PL81C39C81CE63B882

Charmed Life

As a child I looked toward Hollywood stars as people I aspired to become “when I grew up”.  Marilyn Monroe was especially popular in the late 50’s.  I thought it would be grand to be that beautiful, to be loved by the people, to be famous.  After much reading (and the passing of many years), I can hypothesize that Marilyn was not happy with constantly trying to be the beauty queen.  She had moments of glory but within her heart, she must have felt the superficiality of not truly being loved … her husband (s) tired of her, her public waned as what they deemed gorgeous changed … how could Marilyn ever compete with the “Twiggy” phase?   She did not have the charmed life that I believed she did as a preteen.   

I am traveling through the ruins of the medieval times with the benefit of knowing how that time period turned out.  There is no talisman that warded off the evil spirit of man against man.   Their fear and insecurity about the unknown did not build walls that were able to keep the people from causing death to each other.   The victors in one siege became the vanquished later on.  There is no Roman empire … there is no “princess” on a hill.  I am making a broad statement that needs more facts than a couple of paragraphs but I can even tie this back to Marilyn.  Life does not stand still – our hatred of each other can turn inward.  Wishing to satisfy the popular moors of the masses has never worked … not for Marilyn, not for Crusaders, not for the Roman Empire and not for me.

Vocation of Princess

As I visit castle ruins in France, I have become conscious of the isolation that life on the precipice entailed. The sites are located on the highest spot in the visual range and use the natural bedrock of a cliff for the base foundation.   Although a spectacular view, I can imagine the loneliness.  Earlier this month In Paris, I was reminded of Marie Antoinette's demise by the guillotine. 

Today we drove on a narrow road that curved through the Languedoc region of the Cathar castles.  In the distance, elevated above the landscape, there was a stronghold ruin.  We had to stop.  As my companion photographed, I could not help but be in wonder of the building ability - the simple need to haul materials to the site seems astronomical for the 12th century.  And as History reports, after accomplishing amazing



http://www.theworldinlight.com/

architectural feats the Cathars in the fortresses were still conquered by the Crusade sieges of the 13th century.  These strongholds fell and inhabitants were burned at the stake.

My little granddaughter wants to be a princess ... should I tell her that in times gone by being a "princess"  has not been a secure career move?

http://www.theworldinlight.com/

Towers



http://www.theworldinlight.com/

I am claustrophobic; I have been working on this phobia for years.  Climbing to the top of this castle tower in the Alsace Lorraine Region was accomplished only after mentally coaxing me up the narrow, steep steps in the dark tower.  There were a couple of false starts; I had to turn and go back down.  My friend scaled the tapered corridor ahead of me, coaching me up through the dimness - "There's a narrow spot.  Here's a window, if you can get midway there is light. Pretty steep at this level but if you make it up two more flights, you will see daylight.  Ah, yes I am at the top now.  You can make it," he called down.  His words buoyed my nerve to continue the ascent.
The view was worth the climb; below me in all directions were vineyards.  Off in the distance, large hawks soared in the warm up drafts.  On the other side of the tower, I sighted another castle.  I wondered if the former inhabitants were friends back in the medieval days or were they arch enemies.  Perhaps they had no relationship, but that is more difficult to believe - instead, I contemplate them going back and forth, two fortresses built on top of the mountain.  I felt pride to be able to conjure this scene.  From this vantage point, my imagination can take flight. 



http://www.theworldinlight.com/



What I learned from this event is that when facing a task that is hard for me, having a person who cares enough to offer encouragment, make me feel safe, and is willing to be the way shower, a light guide of sorts ... can pull me mentally out of a self created fear.  I am still claustrophobic but I made this climb; I can make another.  More importantly, I realize the significance of having a meaningful friend and companion; a person who wants me to succeed.

Night View of Medieval City Carcasonne



http://www.theworldinlight.com/


Some "castles in the sky" do remain.  This night shot of the medieval city of Carcasonne was magical to view ... a glimpse backward in time.  From reading, I know that life was arduous, dirty and hard for the average person.  Death came early to all.  The fact that I am walking late at night in Carcasonne, feeling safe and free seems diametrically opposed to the sight on the hilltop.

Internet

I am dependent on the internet for communication ... when I do not have access (like yesterday) I have an inkling, a small reminder of life twenty years ago.  In France, I have taken note of pay phone booths; at home in the U.S. these are no longer easy to find.  Since my cell phone does not work in Europe, I appreciate knowing that I could call home even though international fees would be high. 

As I visit medieval castles, I am struck with how people from this time period had to keep their family and friends in their heart and minds eye ... life was short and difficult.  For the average person, there would not be the ability or the joy to travel  (artifacts that I am observing hold a message of fear and superstition represented by walled cities, the frightening weapons, the gargoyles on the facade of the church and downspouts of buildings).  Making broad conclusions from my perspective may not be accurate; I wonder how the future generations will view me from what is left behind?

Last Full Day in Provence

Today I am heading for a remote village, Les Baux, in the Provence region.  The planning of these excursions cause me to think of living.  Let me use a drawing that my grandson made for me a few months back to make the point.  The plan was sketched out in several colors on an oversized piece of white paper. This vivid multihued labyrinth was a map to a predetermined finish.  To be triumphant, a player had to take the correct route following hidden secret passageways. 
"How will I know when I find one?" I asked after he excitedly explained the game.
"You'll know because the topsecret passageways get you to the finish," he states with a slight "duh" in his tone.
"But, you've also built in booby traps - as the designer, you have the upperhand; this knowledge makes the odds terrible for me." 
Judging from his expression, I know that he is delighted with this.

Living is like that elaborate drawing, or like the tunnels under the ancient castles I am exploring now.  I enter each passage selecting what I believe is the secret correct path sensing that I am avoiding the booby traps concealed at dead ends.  I want to play the game ... I feel that I have entered the corrrect corridor but I won't know unless I walk through to the other end.

Money

The discovery about money exhange has been interesting for me.  In the past, I have only traveled in Canada and Mexico, this very limited worldview took place at times when the value of the U.S. dollar was considerably more than the currency of the place I was visiting.  As I journey in Europe, I am attempting to live regular life - buy groceries at the market, take buses when possible, renting gites instead of hoteling it.  These are familar tasks that give me a better understanding of the day to day existence for the people of the region where I am a guest.  France to Germany to Switzerland in one day of travel brought home the truth to me that the American dollar is worth less.  (Worth less has the potential to evolve to worthless.)  I realize this point as I view the ruins of powers obliterated - Rome - the Ancient Church - the Crusades.  Historically, no one power has stayed on top of the mountain ... the castle walls will crumble and people in the future will speculate without truly understanding that this breakdown can happen again.

Nano World

I've reflected as I study the ancient buildings in France, on the lost skills of the talented craftsman.  All greatness demonstrated in built achievement (greatness as perceived by the world) is created by the back breaking work of people (enslaved or paid).  There are monuments in Aix en Provence attesting to the artistic ability, skilled brilliance with stained glass and architectural design of a time gone.  As I view these shrines, I feel a sense of continuity, a bridge stretching backwards to touch what I learned as a young student from pictures ... these facades, mortar tributes stand. 

I wander through streets observing historical monuments juxtaposd against our nanotechnological world of contemporary times, refusing to be plugged in, refusing to have a brain controlled by a chip because of my desire to have a meaningful life.  As I contemplate the past and the unknown future ... I question if there was meaning in constructing an edifice to the church or the government that one is born into?  I will never know ... I can only feel what is the right experience and hope that I have the courage to be aware of how lucky I am.

Aix en Provence - Parlez vous Francais?

Today we chose to follow the Cezanne walking route through the historic district often depicted in the artists' paintings of Aix en Provence.  Catching a bus from the rented apartment in Pont de l'Arc into Aix en Provence centerville was stressfree.  We started at the tourist office and their assistance is invaluable, both in the offering of free brochures and their willingness to answer our questions.  All of the employees have been multi-lingual in each information center thus far and this assessment includes the small villages of the Alsace region. I am annoyed that I do not speak their language because the ability to converse in the native tongue would enrich my experience.  I find the French to be helpful as I stumble through my pronunciations - slaughtering the beauty of their romantic language. An important note:  on 9/11 I was offered reflected sympathy by each French person encountered.  For example, at check-in the Annecy hotel owner expressed her sadness that we had such an event to remember.  This thoughtfulness was appreciated.

Alsace without the Internet

I invited you to travel with me and then I do not make any entries; please forgive me.  I was in the Voges Mountains staying in a gite without internet access.  Hopefully, I can catch up with pictures and thoughts.  Today is a day to regroup ... doing laundry (yes, the simple facts of living : ).  At this moment, I am sitting outside in Aix en Provence with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of a nearby pear tree. 

What have I learned?  There is the amazing fact that there is so much to the world than I have not experienced.  Visiting sights that I have read about has been meaningful.  Although, I have discovered about myself that I cannot "go, go, go" ... no matter where I am geographically, it is good to rest and reflect.  One of the highlights of the trip has been to go into ancient churches (église) and study the beauty of the stained glass windows.  I love color; studying the contrast, depth  and detail of this artform has been meditative ... and for me, opens a window of understanding into the soul of past artists; they had a need to mark the beauty of what they felt and saw through the perspective of the eye of the mind. 

Ten Miles of Walking

I was happy but tired last night after walking through Paris taking in as much as possible (which isn't easy - I could spend months in this city).  The stroll was amazing; often we would stop at other buildings taking in the details of French history.  I found the French to be friendly and helpful as I struggled to express myself using limited French.  We spent considerable time outside the Musee du Louvre taking in the details of this incredible building and enjoying the sculptures along the promonade.  I have decided that Napoleon is worth further study on my part - what an incredible ego!