Thoughts on Lucien Freud at the Pompidou Museum.

I saw the Lucien Freud exhibition at the Pompidou Museum in Paris this weekend.

When I was working on my BFA at the University of Iowa I had a few professors who talked about both Lucien Freud and Susan Rothenberg with an almost religious fervor. Until this weekend I'd only ever seen Freud's work in glossy art books, so I was really looking forward to getting a chance to rediscover them in person.

What can I say? I have no doubt that Cécile Debray is one of the Pompidou's strongest curators. The show was good of course. Small and compact, but good, and filled with some pretty recent works. I know this all sounds a bit flat, but what else can I say that hasn't already been said better about Lucien Freud?

And to be honest, with the exception of the 3 garden, floral paintings, nothing in the entire exhibition really moved me too much. At least not in the same way that a Francis Bacon painting literally makes my heart race or how Alice Neel's paintings give me goosebumps while simultaneously making me cry on the inside.

Some random thoughts & commentaries I had about the show:

1. "I thought it would be much more impressive." I once heard a Texan say these exact words while standing at the foot of the Eiffel tower about 6 years ago. Now I know how he felt and I am sorry that I have been making fun of him for all these many years. Also, I though the paintings would be bigger. Literally bigger.

2. The exhibition audio guide was useless and annoying. I am a museum audio guide junkie, but after paying for this one--I wanted a refund. It's bad enough that I have to walk around looking like a complete freak-show wearing those stylish headphone sets circa 1986, so I most certainly don't like being talked down to by a palm-sized device with a posh British accent.

3. Almost all the paintings were framed behind glass. I'd never seen that before. Interesting and weird. I don't understand why this is so. (If anybody has insights please speak up in comments.)

4. The garden paintings were AMAZING. The color was....like little mini earthquakes. While the rest of the masses were jockeying for position infront of the fleshy portraits, my husband and I stood mesmorized in front of them looking back and forth at eachother like "Holy crap. Are you seeing this!?"

5. I wish my paintings could make mini earthquakes.

That is all.

Louise Bourgeois: Do it RockStar.

A quick post dedicated to the passing of an absolute Art RockStar.

I was lucky enough to see her retrospective at the Pompidou in 2008. Folks, this is how it's done. This is the kind of artist I want to be when I grow up.

"I have been to hell and back and let me tell you it was wonderful."
-Louise Bourgeois

Photo of Louise: Maplethorpe Gallery

Bienvenue au Pompidou!

It finally happened. The Pompidou Museum Metz finally opened this weekend.

There were so many people that you would have thought that there was a football match or a Johnny Hallyday concert. I was more than a little bit touched to see so many people come out for the opening of an art museum. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that even people in the armpit of France will come out to support it.

The public was invited to participate in a performance art piece designed by Spanish Artist Maider Lopez which included the use of 3000 white umbrellas lit up by LED flashlights.

I also learned that I need to read the user's manual for my new camera. I bought a Nikon D90 back in November and it's so complicated that I left it on my bookshelf until last week. Clearly I have NOT mastered night shooting. I just figured out how to turn the damn thing on last week.

Night-time photography--Y'ur doin' it wrong!

Studio Tour.

I think I’ve explained this before. The reason I don’t use my real name here on this blog isn’t because I’m hiding anything really, but because I don’t want museum curators googling my name and ending up finding pictures of me chugging champagne at a New Year’s eve party. (Oh who am I kidding? In my field that might even help my career.)

But if I’m gonna have time to keep up this blog I have to find a way to UN-separate it from my work life a bit, because frankly at the moment I’m working my ASS off and all I’m thinking about pretty much revolves around what is going on in my studio. If I blog, it’s gonna be about art or it aint gonna get blogged. Period. *snapping fingers*

So, an an introduction, I thought I'd take you on a tour of my studio.  I know how much I personally love to see other artists work spaces.  For me it's quite magical and exciting to see an artists studio. It's like opening the back of a clock and seeing all those tiny gears and mechanisms turning. You have no idea what they do, but dammit they mean business.

Here's where I live all day:

More later!

No Boobs Necessary.

I know I've talked about this before, but I have to gush about it a bit more. It's damn exciting to have a major international Art museum opening up down the street from your house! I'm not ashamed to admit that I go the city's website to peek in on live webcam footage at least once a week.

After several years of delays, The Centre Pompidou-Metz is set to open in less than two weeks.

These hilarious posters have been popping up around town within the last week. There's also an Andy Warhol version. Translation: "I'm moving to Metz."

My question: Is there not ONE female artist that could have been used in the marketing campaign? These specific artists were chosen because their faces and/or public personas are just as recognisable as their actual artworks.

What woman artist do you think the general public would easily recognise?

Black Wednesday: The Rise of The Crumb-Snatchers.

I don’t leave my house on Wednesday.

My friend Mr. Taylor once called Wednesday “children’s day”. I on the other hand prefer to refer to it as Black Wednesday. Those of you who live outside France probably don’t know this, but in France there is no school on Wednesday. This means that every Wednesday all public places in France become jungle gyms. There are children frickin’ everywhere. How many children? Need I remind you that France is one of the only countries in Europe that is actually experiencing population growth?

The reasoning behind the no school on Wednesday business is that this is the one day that children do extra-curricular activities such as sports or music. And by sports I mean head butting people and objects, and by music I mean the sound of them screaming in restaurants and shopping centers. If you want to see the French “Just Good Enough” parenting philosophy in action, Wednesday is the perfect day for it.

Below you will find my personal top 3 list of places in France that should absolutely be avoided like the plague on Wednesdays and why:

1. Doctor’s Offices- Mommy + 3 children under the age of 5, all 4 have been waiting 3 hours to see the doctor, all 4 have runny noses and a slight fever. If you weren’t sick when your ass entered that waiting room, you sure the hell will be by the time you leave.

2. Museums- I am convinced that all of France’s major museums double their security on Wednesdays to insure that some priceless national treasure doesn’t meet its demise at the hands of a rambunctious 7 year old. (p.s. Your snack from the cafe has been laced with Ritalin for insurance purposes. Enjoy!)

3. The Grocery Store- By all means feel free to shop on Wednesday if you enjoy a full-on obstacle course of 5 year olds having temper tantrums on the filthy floor. Oh, beware of that slippery spot in aisle 4 where Johnny lauched a jar of pickles at Mommy's head like a frickin' vinegar grenade. Stuff you should bring with you on your adventure: recyclable shopping bags, sensible shoes and or combat attire, earplugs or ipod for mental/ear protection, and a copy of War and Peace for the 45 minute wait at the check-out counter. Good luck with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually really like kids. Just not other peoples’ bad ass kids. Also, I am sick of getting hip-checked by some breeder's SUV sized baby stroller. Riddle me this: How the hell does an infant need a hummer? All you moms out there reading this- Please forgive my ignorance and learn me something. What the hell do you keep in those “diaper bags” that are twice the size of a Samsonite weekender? Just admit it: That's where you hide the wet-bar right?

Photo courtesy of Enfant Terrible kids clothing which makes the cutest kid t-shirts ever. No hipster off-spring should be without one! Buy one for your crumb-snatcher now.

Capitalism...Y'ur doin' It Wrong!

I just wanted to share with you a few local businesses and business ideas that have popped up in the last few months here in Metz, France. Sorry the photos are so crappy. It was freezing cold and pissing rain, but I think you can still get the point.

Cheeseburgerz.....Y'ur doin' it Wrong:

Duck Hamburger discounted to only 15,90 EUR.


Gangsta...........Y'ur doin' it Wrong:

For real y'ur too cheap to reprint this sign?

Discuss.

Last Minute Escape!

This weekend we took a last minute get-away to Paris. As much as we love the Barbie Dream House, we very much enjoy getting away from Metz. Also, I needed a cheeseburger. So, we hopped on the TGV and away we went. We stopped by the Pompidou to see the Pierre Soulages retrospective, and spent about an hour at the elles@centrepompidou exhibition which was just massive in every sense of the word.

The Marlene Dumas paintings just knocked my socks off. If you can get to Paris this year, get thee to this show. After February 2011 most of this work will go back into storage untill the next time some wise curator decides it’s time to pay attention to women artists again. Ahem. Moving along.

Contrary to popular belief, the highlight of our weekend was of our weekend was not inhaling cheeseburgers at the Hard Rock Café while head-banging to System of a Down. Nope. The highlight of my weekend was scoring not one, but these two pairs of Jimmy Choo Nimbus sandals on sale.

Actually only one pair was on sale, but my lovely FrenchBoy managed to talk the sales girl into giving me the 2nd pair at the sale price since I simply couldn’t choose between two Choos.

(I bet you can’t say that real fast 5 times in a row!)

Ladies and gentlemen, I am in shoe love, but obviously I cannot wear these babies untill Spring officially arrives. Unfortunately it is currently minus 3 degrees here in Metz France, so I’m in for a long wait….which is actually a good thing cuz right about now my feet look like Frodo Baggins.

Seriously--My once lovely tootsies are lookin’ a bit rough around the edges due to the fact that I’ve been stomping around in the snow in my Harley Davidson Motorcycle boots every damn day all damn winter. So, for the next 28 days my feet will be in serious full-time in-patient rehab. I cannot be seen wearing my Choos with effin’ hobbit feet.

I’m just keepin’ it real.

There is no French word for 'Happy Hour'.

One of the toughest parts of being an expat, or in my case an immigrant, is the reality of leaving your friends behind and jumping into a new location and trying to make new ones. Anyone who has ever moved to a new city or state knows how difficult it can be to jump ship and create a new social circle. Doing so in a foreign language is just that much more daunting a task. I think I’ve whined about making French friends on this blog before and I plan to do so again one last time and then I think it will beofficially out of my system:

I find Frenchmen lovely. So much so that I married one. French women on the other hand don’t really trip my trigger. For one, I think I intimidate them. That’s a nice way of saying I scare them off. If you’ve been reading this blog for any time now, you know I have a big personality, but to my credit I’m a bit more subdued in person….as long as I’m sober. Unfortunately most casual social situations or informal events in France do not include sobriety. After a few glasses of wine I have been known to do things that seem completely strange and obnoxious to French women, such as laughing. And trust me it's not just Parisienne women who enjoy looking down on fun people.

But I have to admit; If I didn’t live in the armpit of France I would definitely give this a try. The idea is so simple: It’s like a cocktail hour before work. Only the cocktail is coffee of course. Is this a great idea or is this a great idea? And wouldn't it just be a really cool way to start off your day?

If anyone has ever been to one of these events in Paris I would LOVE to hear how it went. Seriously please either e-mail me or post in comments.

Wait, wait, don’t tell me. A bunch of Anglophones showed up.

Shallow As A Kiddie Pool.

And now, on a much lighter note:

For the last 3 weeks I have eaten nothing but steamed fish and organic fruits and vegetables, and about 85 cups of coffee. Why? Not because I want to get healthy and feel good about myself, but because I want to be able to fit into these clothes.

Tracy Reese is a Goddess with a capital G, and that ensemble at 1:32 is the bee's knees. And did I mention she makes clothese up to a size 12?

Is it wrong to pray to Jesus to help you get designer clothes? Will I go to hell twice if I admit that I only want to get skinny so I can wear slutty clothes?