I woke often through the night but each time I did I had the sensation that the air around me was the emotion love and Id take a deep breath in, feel happy and then sink back into sleep. Im feeling pretty refreshed and calm this morning.
Parisian public space is used in such a different way. Its theirs, they own it, is an extension of their own homes and sometimes as a tourist being in these places I feel like im disturbing the ambiance.
Building are huge but homes are more often then not quite small and the higher up you live, the smaller and cheaper the rent, so if you live in one of those cute attics way in the air you may have a hotplate to cook on but definitely no oven. There are many windows with railings and prized are the balconies. These elements of housing change the way the outdoors work.
Teenages quite happily get a ‘café’ and sit on it for hours and catch up with friends. This is acceptable and part of the culture, they have no room to meet at someones house so this lifestyle of just hanging starts early. Maybe earlier still at the sandpits in the middle of all the parks that are always full of kids playing. I saw two boys jumping in muddy puddles today and smiled and refrained from joining in.
Parisians leave for work early (thats not entirely true they leave for their second breakfast maybe a espresso and a pastry) and don’t head home after work. They stay out and stay out, late. They almost avoid being in their homes as much as possible, it is so different to the Australian culture of wanting to be at home as much as possible.
Public libraries, cafes, boardwalks, esplanades, canals, arcades, bistros, parks and gardens are all extensions of personal space. Parisians are intimate with their surrounding they have their places, their hangs and I am just visiting. I feel like a stranger staring around their living room at times. There is a code of conduct in these places, its like visiting a relative, you wear clean clothes and remember your manners and don’t completely relax.
Well its time for me to go invade their space some more :) back for lunch and perhaps a day in the studio .. I need to tear everything down and start agin. .un-shrink wrap the table and easel..(maybe). Shit i didn’t charge the headphones..more coffee
Im back for lunch. My head is filled with tales from todays audio walking tour.. stories of mad men killing kings and having their bodies mutilated with hot lead before ropes were tied to their limbs and attached to horses in attempts to separate the parts. From sites of old morgues where unidentified bodies could be seen by the public. (this was not even a grotesque history tour - I suppose all history is pretty torturous) From Marie Antionettes trial, from Haussmann designs to make Paris more liveable and to bring fresh water into the city (70% of the city was torn down and rebuilt ) (there is much debate about him and thats where my afternoon reading will start. )to barometric pressure discoveries to a hunchback with his dead lover in his arms. And the tragic love story of Heloise and Abelard and how Josephine Bonaparte was so moved by their letters she had the bodies moved and buried together so they would finally be as one. Oh Im excited and teary my head is a buzz with information to ponder and look up. Coffee and baguette while I let all that sink in ;)
I began reading on Haussmann when I was distracted by some gardening going on outside, downstairs. A woman sporting a manicured grey bob and wearing a snake skin embossed long jacket and gloves was trimming the ivy back discussing what lay under the dead vines with another woman in yellow gloves with shorter cropped hair and a beige coat.. The French are always stylish it seems. I wanted to ask if they needed help, but I didn’t. It must be hard for Parisians that aIways look over a garden they can never walk through? Or can they just admire the beauty? I stopped Hausemann and picked up ‘down and out in Paris and London’.
Tom just rang he wants to catch up again for dinner.. Ill need supplies..
