Aerial view of Monet's garden, house, highway and lily pond.
The pond or 'water garden' is accessed from the bottom left-hand corner of the main garden area under the highway.
One pf Monet's many paintings of the llly pond
The PICASSO exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria
Art
galleries beg, borrow and steal - or others apparently do so on their behalf -
to create their shows. They mix and match to add other ‘flavours’ and contexts
to the same works, rebranding them, from time to time gathering identical
pieces together differently under ‘new’ twists, concepts that become the hype
of a promotional strategy planned to pull the crowds in again and again: large
numbers mean good profits. So it is that one frequently feels that one has seen
every available Picasso, and every Monet too. Galleries in London, Paris,
Sydney, Melbourne, for example, have all done the same over the years. It is
not a unique strategy. Possibly the most annoying promotion was the big
‘Picasso’ event in Melbourne that was subtitled in small print ‘and his
contemporaries.’ The show was about the Picasso era, but this was never made
clear until one had entered and wondered about the relevance or otherwise of
the subjects on display. Or was one blinded by the naming? While the ‘Picasso’
appellation was the draw card - the name was in three-metre high, floodlit
letters in front of the gallery - the show was filled with nearly everything
other than a quantity of original pieces of the master. The show had the works
of other artists and photographs of Picasso with his friends; painting
Guernica; on holidays; picnicking; boating; etc., and some personal
knickknacks, with a few paintings and sculptures by the maestro in between. It
felt like a con, a cheap show designed to reap in the money of unsuspecting
punters.
Picasso and friends
Monet
turned up once in a collaged theme in Paris with Turner and Whistler, Turner,
Whistler, Monet. One gets the gist of the thought - it is all about
painting light. This show was not as cynical as the Melbourne event that made a
blockbuster occasion out of nothing but a selection of sundry items.
Australians seem good at hatching up ideas for new shows. The National Gallery
of Australia has presented Turner to Monet and Monet & Japan.
What might be next? It seems that anything that sounds attractive will do,
irrespective of the content. It is all about profit. The Paris trilogy show was
a runaway success. Crowds lined up for kilometers; but the wait was made
interesting as the queue, unusually for the French, spiraled neatly around a
rather beautiful water feature full of naked cherubs, fish, frogs, alligators
and angels all spurting, spraying and splashing delightfully. Melbourne had no
such a thing to entertain the bored eye, just its bland walls and formal pools.
The
one memorable exhibition that can be recalled was Monet at the National
Gallery many, many years ago. It was a superb display of quality lighting
illuminating beautiful paintings by Monet. In a high, dark space, at eye level,
the small Monets were individually illuminated by a very low level,
carefully-framed light from above that fitted each work perfectly, tailor-made
lighting defined for each painted surface, making them alone glow gloriously in
the gloom, as if the painted colour was the source of the luminance; which, by
reflectance it was. The experience might be better understood if one said that
the effect looked like the backlighting of a transparency, such was the
intensity with such a modest level of energy. It made Monet’s commitment to
light self-evident as a visual experience. I think that this was the last
exhibition that I attended without complaint about the display and the
lighting: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/10/hot-modernism-architecture-in.html and the associated links to other writings
in this piece. Maybe time and effort were able to be expended on getting things
right in those days when profit was not the singular aim of art galleries?
The Japanese Bridge over the lily pond in different light
Rouen Cathedral in different light
Monet
was indeed one of the great masters of modern art. Repetition never made his
work boring. He repeatedly painted his garden as he did the landscapes of
France and cityscapes of London in all seasons, in different lights, and at
different times of the day. While his haystacks, cathedrals, oceans and rivers
are unforgettable in their rich subtlety, it is his garden that has become the
icon - his lilies. The garden is still being cared for in the small village of
Giverny. It attracts huge numbers of tourists who visit to see the master's
handiwork, the colour, the beauty, and the home: to stand where Monet stood; to
walk where he roamed; to see what he saw; to sit . . Everyone comes with the
hope of experiencing the garden in the way that Monet saw it and painted it -
felt it. His paintings that illustrate this garden have travelled the world to
be exhibited for everyone’s admiration. When one says ‘garden,’ one also
includes the pond, Monet’s lily pond where he spent so much time recording the
play of light and colour. The painted lilies mesmerize and draw huge numbers
who stand silently in front of the canvases, amazed But there is no
differentiation in the promoted idea of Monet’s place: garden and lilies meld
together in the good feelings one has about the master, and nothing is done to
inform folk otherwise. Many publications reproduce the lilies, the water and
the reflections as enigmatic brush strokes and smudges that reproduce the play
of light as it is reflected, refracted and refiltered in all its height and
depth in one plane that dances around the trees and green ‘Japanese’ bridges on
which everyone wants to be photographed, even Monet. The idea of the garden
becomes embedded as a glorious sprawling gathering of flowering plants
clustering around a pond accessed by paths for pensive strolling. It is
conceptualized as an integral wholeness much loved by the master. One longs for
it; wants to see it in all of its subtle romance and glorious hues - just like
Monet himself who cared for it deeply.
Haystacks in different light
Monet
painted light. His haystacks can be used as an example of how he worked with
the one subject, the one place, through seasons and time of day. Rouen
Cathedral could also become yet another example of this concentrated effort,
his interest in careful observation, as could the Thames in London. When
preparing for a talk some years ago, I photographed some prints of the
haystacks. It was astonishing to see the variations in the light meter with the
different seasonal representations of the one subject and location. The camera
could read the variance in lighting levels as though it was present, in the
field with the haystacks. Monet’s works truly hold light.
Monet's garden
The
garden is always on the list of visitors to France, Paris. It is constantly
understood and promoted poetically as ‘Monet’s Garden,’ nothing else, as if it
was a part of the local Parisian world. Only time, timetables, seasons, and
weather make the trip awkward or impossible, perhaps to be deferred until the
next visit: or so it was with us. Years had gone by and we had never been able
to get to this envisaged haven that was discovered to be some distance from
Paris, best seen on a fine day in spring or summer. The tourist information
rarely makes its location immediately clear. It is not as though it is an easy
place to access. From central Paris, after a trip on the Metro, the journey
involves two trains and a bus, an excursion that takes nearly two hours each
way. The visit is a whole day affair - one whole day out of the general
itinerary when there's is so much else to do, so much else to see. The tour
needs commitment and endurance.
St Lazare Station, Paris
Monet's painting of St Lazare Station
We
got there, not in spring when everything is said to be at its best, but in late
autumn. At least the journey started at St. Lazare station, one of Monet’s
favourite subjects that is steamless today, a seamless modernity that lacks the
intense character of the old that one is left dreaming about while trying to
recreate the Monet images of it. The bus dropped us off in the large car park
outside the village of Giverny with directions to get to the garden, a good
walk away, and instructions for our pick-up time. One felt like a part of a
guided sightseeing group, but the times only had to do with local transport
schedules. We followed the signs through the village, passing restaurants and
homes to at our destination. We entered Monet’s property via a narrow reception
area where one paid for entrance, then walked upstairs into a large studio
space that was fitted out as a huge shop selling everything ‘Monet,’ from high
art to souvenir trash. It was from this space that one could move out past the
toilets and the chook pen into the garden. One strolled around narrow paths
discovering more tracks and larger avenues, all revealing a wonder of blooms
and foliage: but where was the pond? Even at this time of the year there were
flowers in the garden that turned out to be more than interesting to meander
through with its bushes, shrubs, vines and arched bowers. One could see the
paintings again and again, as living branch and leaf, dirt, sunlight and
colour. One had never given it much thought, but the garden had a house between
it and the street. One could stroll through the house, room to room, thinking
of Monet, while glimpsing out to the garden through the various windows and
doors and sensing the ghosts of those who once lived the everyday here
everyday. The image of a masterly existence was given some grounding in the
hubbub of the daily grind that materialized in its essence in the kitchen. This
space was wonderfully appointed with smart tiling, broad timber shelves,
benches and tables, tiled floors and walls, polished copper pots, and beautiful
cookers. It was obviously the heart of the home.
The avenue, Monet's garden
Monet's house separates street and garden
From
here one exited to the arched avenue, the axis of the lovely grids of garden.
One had never thought that Monet’s garden might have been so regimented. The
foliage, flowers and the pond had always seemed so free and flowing in their
casual informality: but where was the pond? There was no space for it in this
confined area. The glimpses from the upper floor of the home revealed nothing.
At the end of the avenue, a modest sign appeared: Lily Pond, with an arrow that
pointed somewhere near to the far edge of the garden. It could not be there.
One eventually discovered the track and, following more signs, moved
through an underpass to the other side of the busy road above. Here one
encountered a boundary with an open field - no pond here! - and strolled along
a narrow path located between a rushing stream and a paddock fence - ah! Water
at last! It seemed a doubtful progression to such an iconic location. There was
hardly any organic connection between the two places as the publications
suggested. Where was this track heading? One advanced onto a narrower dirt path
passing through thicker foliage that opened up to a glimpse of water: the pond
- at last! The track continued and meandered around the water into the dark
shade of trees and out again to the vista. There it was. In front on one was a
bright green painted balustrade surrounding a small deck that looked out to the
water: a photo point; taken already! One strolled around the earthen track to
the small bridge, passing hundreds of tourists trying to catch an image of the
pond or themselves free of their own tourist mayhem. Who wants images of
strangers in their snaps? One was here for the garden and the pond, not to
share the experience with others. This clash between numbers and reverie is one
of the enigmas of tourism that degrades place into a ‘look, see, tick, next’
affair: see - http://springbrooklocale.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/who-or-what-is-tourist.html The big surprise was that this pond turned
out to be completely separated from the house and its garden. The pond was on
the other side of a highway on the edge of some agricultural land. No one had
ever indicated this bifurcation, not one publication or previous visitor. Books
only concentrated on the wonder of the house and garden image, suggesting that
one might even see the pond from the house, never telling that one might have
to cross a road to get there as Monet must have had to do. The gates are still
there, and the road crossing. Today tourists use an underpass for safety and,
no doubt, to minimize traffic interference, for thousands make this trip and
pay for the privilege of entry, so public liability is involved. Tourism
inevitably changes the experience into its cliché visitation and viewing pattern
that approaches everything with the same intentions and creates a
one-dimensional experience out of all visits, no matter where.
View from the bridge
Images of both garden areas never suggest any division or separation, just one marvellous expanse of colour, light and water
We
have all been trained, encouraged to see the garden as a whole: se - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/seeing-what-we-believe-idyllic-visions.html
The
pond was, well, a pond with lilies in it. As a body of water it was relatively
ordinary, man-made: well, Monet-made. This was the difference that faded a
little when one discovered the weir gate, locked to prevent the vandalism of
emptying this body of water into its natural stream. The pond felt falsely
ephemeral rather than natively natural. It was only the memory of the Monet
paintings that gave this body of water is authority; its qualities. Everyone
appeared intent in capturing the painting as a photograph. One might never have
seen anything astonishing in it if Monet had not painted it. He taught us how
to see, as good artists do. Certainly tourists would not bother to see this
dammed stream for its own qualities without the Monet provenance. Just imagine
traveling so far to view an artificial billabong anywhere! The haze of lilies
floating on clouds and sky in between the reflected shade of trees was indeed
wonderful, gently compelling. With Monet’s eyes, one could see them clearly.
The frustrations grew with those more interested only in their own image,
having it associated with this place with their ‘me, me, click, go’ concerns:
done that; where next? There was an endless queue of folk wanting to have their
photo taken on the ‘Japanese’ bridge and lookout structures, especially the
large one that Monet loved to paint. One could anticipate the banter: ‘This is
me in Monet’s painting. Clever ME!”
We
gazed around looking, feeling, until we had to go: time was up. The bus would
be returning soon. We strolled back along the track, under the road, to the
house and garden exit that was the obligatory tourist shop. Millions of images
of Monet’s paintings were everywhere, on everything from mugs to handkerchiefs.
It all felt more than odd when the real thing was outside: such is the power of
the souvenir: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/on-souvenirs-place-memories.html
and http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/my-souvenir.html
Leaving
via the confined stair entry, we walked down the village street to the bus that
was to take us to the train that would take us to the train back into Paris:
but of course things rarely go to plan. Something had happened with the trains.
No one seemed to know or wanted to tell. We got the message that an alternative
route would be used. We detoured around Paris via Corbusier’s suburb Poissy -
the Villa Savoye came to mind as we stopped at the station - through the
industrial outskirts, eventually to arrive at our destination over an hour
later than planned. It was dark, so we had dinner and a drink, no it was a
drink, dinner, and a drink, and got the Metro back to the apartment. It was
more than a full day. Monet had turned to moaning as tired legs climbed stairs
to the high apartment.
The Orangerie, Paris
The
next morning we visited the Orangerie to see Monet’s lilies nearly full size.
It was astonishing, seeing the pond as Monet had seen it in close up detail,
thick daubs of bright colour layered mistily over tens of metres of canvas that
had become the single exhibit. After being approached by the resident trickster
who performed the familiar “I’ve found a gold ring” trick before our
unimpressed eyes, we returned to the Louvre. One becomes so engrossed in one
part of this huge gallery that it would take many visits over many months,
years, to see the whole of it; to truly see it rather than merely glance at it
like a tourist - look; snap; just as those crowding around Mona were doing. It
was a shocking display of careless indulgence, a sad competition to get to the
front and be photographed with the image in front of the ‘No Photography’ sign.
Nothing more was required or considered than success in this endeavour. So much
for reverie: see - http://springbrooklocale.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/who-or-what-is-tourist.html
GOOGLE EARTH IMAGES
Paris and Giverny
\
Giverny
Giverny
Giverny showing the parking area (lower left) and Monet's garden, house, highway and lily pond (on right)
The bus stop and parking area for tourists.
The path to Monet's house and garden goes off to the right under the D5.
The garden, house, highway and lily pond
The area in front of the house known as 'the garden'
The D5 highway
The lily pond or 'water garden'
GOOGLE EARTH PHOTOGRAPHS
The broad approximations of locations of the various features of Monet's garden is made evident in the photographs placed on Google Earth. Little wonder that the D5 division between garden and lily pond is so ill defined in people's minds.
Pond on highway
House on highway
Garden in lily pond
Lily pond in street
Lily pond in garden
Lily pond in garden
Lily pond in house
Lily pond in garden
The D5 division
Do the wonder and beauty of Monet's many painted images of his much-loved garden, house and lily pond overcome any recollection of the D5, or do we just choose to ignore it? Do we only see what we believe in, or want to believe in?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.