Paris, it is safe to say, is known for its attention to detail. But for me, this isn't quite accurate. You can pay attention to details and suck the life and magic out of something; imagine going over tax returns or double checking answers on a calculus test. Paris isn't like that; it's more of a Jackson Pollock painting than a mathematical proof. And like a Pollock, it's a mess of everything, scrambled together yet done with the utmost attention and thought behind it. There is an amazing amount of reasoning behind his work, sometimes unseen or unnoticed. And that is the Paris I have been seeing. Sometimes a jumble, sometimes a mess, but every bit beautiful and intentional. And every bit a work of art. That, to me, is the best way to describe Paris, as a piece of art. Not a Pollock, of course (though it sometimes seems one of his paintings was used by the city planners for the layout of the streets), but a piece of art in its own right. And within Paris there is every kind of art imaginable. They do pay attention to detail, but the Parisians live this way because if their surroundings are pieces of art, those surroundings must be filled with art as well.
I have gone to the Musée d'Orsay and the Centre Pompidou, I've seen a decent number of monuments and monumental architecture, and these are all wonderful examples. I spent an entire visit with my friend Annie and only made it through the first floor of the Centre Pompidou. But to say that Paris's art scene ends with its museums is to discredit many other, less obvious pieces of art.
The obvious art (Centre Pompidou):
The Building:
Art from Floor 1:
Less obvious--the street art:
The Decorative Arts: Mosaics on a Hotel Wall in Montparnasse:
The art of design and the fashion houses:
The art of food and presentation (pain perdu/french toast):
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