In the past three days, I have been to two of the best art museums in the world. For an art history lover like myself, these experiences have been some of the most delightful times I’ve had in Paris. On Sunday I went to the Musée de L’Orangerie, which is most famous for its circular rooms housing Claude Monet’s series of water lily paintings (don’t ask me to pronounce the name of this museum, by the way–I just end up saying lingerie). To be completely honest, I almost teared up. The paintings were so beautiful, with rich colors and visible brushstrokes, and to have them surrounding you was incredible.
Yesterday, I visited the Musèe d’Orsay. Originally built in 1900 as a train station, the building now houses an impressive collection of sculptures, furniture, and art, including a stunning assembly of Impressionist art. Impressionism is a favorite style of mine, and when I walked into the Impressionism gallery on the top floor I could barely contain my excitement. I was doubly happy because the temporary exhibition in the museum featured Paul Cézanne, one of my all-time favorite artists. The exhibition hosted a collection of Cézanne’s portraits for just a few short months, and I happened to be here at the time!
I enjoyed both museums because not only did I see some of my favorite artists and pieces that I’ve learned about, but I also learned about new art that I had never seen before. For example, Edgar Degas has his famous dancer paintings, but right next to those were his paintings of horses and jockeys. I had never seen or heard of these before. And while I love Cézanne for his landscapes, I honestly did not know that he was so renowned for his portraits, too. It is interesting what makes it into the art “canon” and what gets left behind, especially when an artist devotes his or her entire life to art and only a few pieces get remembered–if the artist even achieves this level at all.
(Speaking of an artist as “his or her,” it reminds me that it becomes even more noticeable in museums such as these as to how disappointingly little opportunity/recognition female artists had.)
As I left the Musée de L’Orangerie, I began to think about art in Paris. The words “art” and “Paris” are practically synonymous at this point. For decades, artists have come to study with masters in Paris. Some decided to move here. Simply put, Paris is iconic for its art, and the French take great pride in it. But I was confused–what, exactly, makes Paris the place for art? Apparently, there is something in the Parisian air that artists find inspiring, moving, magical, and so on.
Actually, it’s not something in the air, but rather what’s not there: a stench.
When Georges-Eugéne Haussmann was tasked with renovating Paris, he installed sewers under the city. These sewers were some of the earliest and best of their kind. Yesterday at the Musée des Égouts (the sewer museum) we learned about Paris’s sewer system. All services run through the sewers now: waste, water, electricity, and more. This allows for easy maintenance. Clean water is very important to the city, and was emphasized strongly in Haussmann’s plan.
So what does the sewer system have to do with art? Well, the sewers cleaned up the city. They got rid of waste from the street and brought down disease. This change was monumental. When Paris was cleaned up, it became the place to be. The lack of stink in the air and the cleanliness of water was impressive. This drew in people who were interested in and could afford the finer things in life. When you no longer had to spend time getting rid of waste, obtaining clean water, or cleaning your streets, more time could be devoted to leisure activities such as music and art.
When Dr. Smith pointed this out in class, it immediately clicked with what I’d been wondering about Parisian art. Dr. Smith said that everything that makes the City of Lights what it is is due to the sewer system. It cannot be overstated how revolutionary these sewers were for the city. By cleaning up the city, Paris could become the heart of fashion, art, and learning, and draw in some of the best and brightest in the world.
It felt strange to go from the stinky sewers to stunning art in one day, but it actually made a lot of sense. After all, this art might not be here without the sewers. So thank you, sewers, for making the art that I love possible (and thanks for keeping the city from smelling, that’s pretty great too).
