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Religious Diversity in Paris: an interesting question

A topic that has come up in study and visiting the city itself has been religion in Paris. Through France’s long history with the monarchy, Catholicism, and various religions that have come into question afterward, Paris’ relationship to the topic can be strange and foggy. 

As I have been exploring and experiencing the city in my two weeks here I have visited a cathedral for Mass, a building that was once a religious place, and a mosque to learn about the spaces, the people that occupy them, and there purpose regarding faith. 

I new that France and religion had a complicated history and that they are largely a secular country here in the contemporary era, but that didn’t stop the surprise I had in being here to experience it for myself. What I have found the most during this journey is that, to me, religion is more of a spectical or attraction for tourists than a true faith here in Paris. What I mean by this is that I found a greater fascination with the spaces of worship themselves, than the faith that holds those space’s true purpose.

An example of this is the tragedy that is the burning of our beloved Notre Dame. I remember when I first saw the sad and frightnening photos of the cathedral as her roof and spire quickly collapsed into the centuries old building. I remember thinking how awful, not just for the country of France, but for the world as a symbol of history and religion was distroyed. What I have found since being here is that while this was indeed a tragedy, it is not so much the people of Paris that are heart broken, but the ones that have come from all over to see her. Why? 

People come from all over to see the beautiful and historical sights of the city, to step foot in the places that kings once did, and to experience the symbolism of Paris’ religious history. However, it truly seems like we outsiders are some of the only ones that find this kind of value in these spaces. 

Experiencing mass in the stunning church across from the Louvre was peaceful and lovely, but aside from the small number of those that seemed to be regulars of the church most people seemed to be visitors coming to see and photograph the space itself.

While the mosque was in use when we visited and toured the space, it seemed less of a space to experience God than one where people can whitness the architecture and specticle of those that come to worship. 

I know that this is not true of everyone, and of course not the true purpose of these beautiful places, but what I experienced was less of a religious diversity and value of different faiths, than a place that just holds “sacred” spaces for the variety of religions that reside in the city.

While certainly no place is perfect, Paris has a long way to go when it comes to respecting and valuing the different beliefs and faiths of their citizens (and certainly those that they do not deem true citizens). I love that the spaces and buildings that have both historic and religious value are some of the most visited in this great city, however the spectical of the spaces seem to be the most valued by those that visit. It’s a strange way to approach faith, but I understand where this approach comes from in regards to the history of the monarchy, the various revolutions that took place, and work that still needs to be done in regards to immigration and diversity in France. 

Again, my observations in my short time here to not fully reflect the place that religion holds in the city, but a tiny glimpse into it. There is a sense of religious diversity that I was excited to experience through learning about the history of Catholicism and the Islamic beliefs and population here in Paris. I believe that learning about the various religions of the world is an important practice, especially as someone who comes from the Christian faith. While I may not believe or agree with all that other faiths do, I can reflect on my own through educating myself on those of others, as well as respect where each comes from.

There is certainly both beauty and brokenness in this place, but this comes with anywhere that you may go. I love Paris and all of its juxtapositions none the less. 

[cathrynschof-blog]

Père Lachaise Cemetery: place of memory or attraction?

I experienced something entirely new today as I sat on the ground of a large cemetery and ate a kind of Perisian pizza with goat cheese: a picnic with the large and ornate graves that house families, soldier, artists, musicians—people. People who are no longer with us. It felt somehow very right to have the sky open up and suddenly rain down on our little group as we huddled under a tiny umbrella to keep dry. Places of memory do something strange to us. 

How did a place of burial become a tourist attraction? As I wandered through the small paths that wind there way through the large grounds to find specific people’s graves (the ones that appear on a list that visitors should certainly my stop by according to the Micheline Green Guide) I thought about the thousands of people and families that aren’t including in the tourist attraction, the ones that aren’t deemed worthy of seeking out and I thought: Is this ok?

What is interesting to me is how Pere Lachaise began, what it was, and how it came to be known as the largest and most famous cemetery in Paris. The property for the original land was purchased in 1626 by the Jesuits (the Society of Jesus) as a place for priests to retreat to in the countryside away from the bustle of the busy Paris streets. It wasn’t until the Jesuits were expelled from France that the land in this beautiful countryside was turned into a small cemetery. 

It’s funny because in its early beginnings, Pere Lachaise was thought to be too far from the inner city of Paris, and therefore very few people were buried in its grounds. It wasn’t until some of the more well known people of the day were moved into tombs in the small cemetery that others deemed it worthy of being buried there. So.. it was always this “attraction” in a way that makes one feel like they are seeing something important when they enter. 

Within just a few years of the transfer of important tombs to the grounds the cemetery began to grow beyond its boarders. Since then it has grown to the size of 99 acres of land and houses many of the world’s wellknown artists and “celebraties” of the 19th and 20th centuries. 

The cemetery, while being incredibly large, is also a garden in and of itself that can, in the right spot, look out over the city from an elevated hight. An added part of the land is the way that each grave or tomb is created in a unique way to pay respect to those that reside within. The tombs range from small, flat stones that stretch the length of a human with simple engravings, to large “buildings” that tower over you and read the names of whole families. 

For the “important” figures that were layed to rest here, many tombs have specific design elements that speak to the person, who they were, or what they did in their lives. 

An example of this would be the tomb of Théodore Géricault, a young painter in the early 19th century. While studying works at the Louvre and learning through copying paintings by well known artists of the day, he only had a few real moments of recognition. He created many works in his short life, but most notably those of The Charging Chasseur and The Raft of the Medusa. Known for taking contemporary scenes and painting them is ways that showcase the same importance as that of historical or theological paintings, Géricault became a success.

When visiting his tomb I was struck by the way he was remembered, especially in relation to other artists that may have experienced more success in their lifetimes. The memorial is large and is made of a stone platform, bronze gate, large stone tomb that stands atop the platform, and a life size bronze sculpture of the artist himself reclining with a palette and paint brush. What I found most striking however, was the bronze repiction of none other than The Raft of the Medusa that is carved into the front of the tomb under the sculpture of the artist. 

After standing in front of the tombs of other artists such as Jacque Louis David or Eugene Delacroix, this surprised me as the only one with a specific dedication to the work of the artist. It was a beautiful representation of Géricault and recognised some of his greatest accomplishements in life, however it felt almost strange to have him memorialized in this way. 

Again, there was a part of me that felt odd visiting this place of memory to view the resting places of people I had read about. I know that this is not the only cemetery in the world that people visit to experience the place itself, but how do we not cross the line between visiting these places out of respect and memory and turning them into a specticle? I don’t know the answer, but it is certainly something to talk about.

I want to respect the space where so many are buried, while also experiencing the beauty of this small remander of countryside on a hill--but how do we do it? 

Au revoir.

[cathrynschof-blog]

We went on a crazy adventure!! (Scavenger hunt in Paris)

Paris in the morning is a beautiful time. Like today when the sun was bright and shiny, cute Perisian people were milling around and having strolls around Place d’Itilie, and there were a bunch of crazy Americans running around the city for a scavenger hunt. So relaxing....?

With thirteen people split up into groups of two or three, nine obscure places or things to find, and six hours to do so we were off at eight o’clock in the morn with a plan. I’m quite proud to say that as a group, the three of us occomplished great things in those six hours, and we found some pretty good stuff along the way. So in a whirlwind tour of Paris, here are a few of the interesting (and often unnoticed) places we got to visit and learn about in the process. 

Ruins of the Roman baths: 

Deep in the heart of Paris, in the 5th arrondessiment are the ruins of a great Roman structure that showcases the incredible architecture and design of the ancient times. The building, now called the Gallo-Roman Thermes de Cluny, is believed to have been built by Roman boatsman in the 1st or 2nd century A.D. and was used as a bath house that was open to the public with a variety of rooms and facilities. 

The ruins are now both a place of continuous research and exploration, as well as a place that the public can visit through entrance to the Musee de Cluny which stands next door. The museum allows for tours of the ruins and information regarding not only what one can see of them, but what one cannot see. So what can we not see?

It is true that while the building is mostly in ruins, there is much of it that has yet to have been uncovered. Archeologists have discovered a variety of spaces within the ruins that would have been used as cold rooms, hot rooms, and utilies that still lay below the surface of the grounds. 

While we didn’t get to physical enter into the ruins, the experience of seeing them through the slits of a large gate was beautiful and strange. Beautiful and strange because of how old this place truly is and thinking about the hands that built it. What were those boatsman’s lives like? How can a place so old continue to live on in its ruins and what does it mean to preserve them? I found myself asking these questions as we looked into the ornate structure that was both stunning and broken. 

Square Barye:

Square Barye is located on the very tip on Ile Saint Louis (the smaller of the two islands that sit in the middle of the River Seine) and encompasses a triangular park featuring a large monument, attractions for young children to play on, lots of greenery, and most fabulously a beauful view of the city from the middle of the river. 

Once the sight of a monestery with a chapel and lush gardens, the space was a lovely spot for locals to visit. However, during the revolution the space was devestated and eventually torn down due to the state of religion in France at the time. In its place was arrected Square Barye, now a park without religion affiliations and open to all. 

The center of the square houses the large monument, as mentioned above, that was dedicated to sculptor Antione Louis Barye. The artist was a lover of animals and created many a sculpture that can be found amongst the Tuilleries Gardens near Musee de Louvre. 

I loved walking through the peacful gardens and experiencing the view of Paris from a little point at the end of Ile Saint Louis. There was so much greenery and spots to sit and be in nature, while still enjoying the luxeries of a created park. Overall, a wonderful find. 

Place Edith Piaf:

If you have ever heard the dreamy tune of La Vie en Rose or the powerful song that is Non Ve Ne Regret Rien than you are familier with the incredible artist that was Edith Piaf. Piaf was a young girl living in Paris during the early 20th century trying to make a living as a singer on the streets of Montmartre.

She was eventually noticed by the owner of a cabaret in the city and given her first job as a singer. From then her career took off with success, heart break, and the eventual death of Piaf at 47 due to health, drugs, and alcohol abuse. Regardless of the sadness in her life, Edith was a powerhouse of a women and handled her many trials with grace. When she passed away it would not be the struggles she went through, but her incredible talent and grace that she would be remembered by.

Thus, the creation of this tiny little place in her name. The place was created in 2003 and it’s now famous statue was commissioned to artist Lisbeth Delisle as a way to commemorate the space for the 40th anniversary of Piaf’s death.

Though the place is small and is not known for its tourist attractions, I found it to be full of charm and a beautiful way to recognize the late singer. Simple, elegant, and a little quirky.

In short, the adventures of today were one for the books and gave me the opportunity to explore parts of Paris that I may never have wandered into. While the huge, famous, and touristy areas of the city are certainly a wonderful place to be, the secrets of Paris (or just the little spots most visitors would never go to) are the most charming to me.

Thank you for the adventures, Paris.

Sources: Micheline Green Guide, Musée de Cluny website

[cathrynschof-blog]

Musee De l’Homme: Hic et Nunc (Here and Now)

Odds are if you are attempting to get off of the Metro at Trocadero in the center of Paris, you are likely going to see a little old building by the name of Tour Eiffel. It’s a beautiful view of the tower from Trocadero and the area is often brimming with people that are either taking pictures of it, taking pictures of themselves, or trying to sell you a tiny version of dearest Eiffel that lights up in multiple colors. (Non, merci! Non, merci!) 

It’s funny because the building that so many people pass by on their way to the famous Perisian attraction is the Musee de l’Homme, or “Museum of Man”. This was, in fact, where I was headed on this particular day. 

For a little bit of history, Musee de l’Homme was originally arrected in 1882 as the Musee D’Ethnographie de Trocadero and took an anthropological look at humans and cultures through the objects that they created. While the museum had a positive focus on diversity through the physicality of cultures and time and had some interesting exhibits, it lacked funds from the start and soon became a place of “oddities”. 

In 1928 an anthropologist named Paul Rivet took over the struggling museum and turned the physical and anthropological focus to a social and ethnological one. He also worked to add an educational spin on the place to include a multidisciplinary theme that would eventually influence the next “life” of the museum.

Found at (Image is not mine)

In 1937 the new Musee de l’Homme was founded in place of  Musee D’Ethnographie de Trocadero as a way to combat racism in the 20th century. With this new mission for a place where everyone could be represented, the desires of Paul Rivet came to life. He states in regard to the opening of Musee de l’Homme:

 “By creating this title, I meant to indicate that everything that concerns the human being, in all his many aspects, should and could find a place within the collections […] This involved gathering in one vast summary all of the results acquired by the specialists, forcing them to compare their conclusions, to verify them and to back them up with the findings of their colleagues. Humanity is one and indivisible, not only in terms of space, but also in terms of time,”--This man was wise!! 

With some context in place, lets talk about the temporary exhibition in question. 

The exhibit Hic et Nunc (Here and Now) was a small portion of a larger exhibit that focused on recognizing the people of France—all the people of France. This was especially important in recognizing those that due to religion, racial or cultural issues are not actively seen or known. Through celebrating the 70th anniversary of the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which was signed in this very building, this idea was highlighted in the recognition of immigrants in France, their stories, and their identities. 

The artist of Hic et Nunc, Clarisse Rebotier, used a series of thirty black and white photographs of immigrants and refugees that are displayed close together on a single white wall. The photographs show the subject or subjects standing in front of an out of focus Eiffel Tower that can be seen from the steps of the musuem’s front side. All of the photos are touching in some way and written next to each one in pencil is the name of each model.

Because of the size of each photo, as well as how the frames touched in various places, I viewed the wall as one piece of work--connected. Each photo was of the same view, an iconic image of not only Paris, but France as a whole, which growned and gave context to the photos. Who were these people? Why are they standing in front of the Eiffel Tower? What does this mean as a whole?

I saw the image as a way of showcasing the place each person held in France: an important one, and one that is often seen is illegitimate. By showing immigrants and refugees standing tall next to an image of France, the artist is giving them their “citizenship” back. In addition to the image itself, Rebotier is choosing to name the subjects of each photo through the informal style of pure hand written pencil. By doing this, I saw the work as humanizing the people and giving them an identity in the image. 

Looking at the photos made me want to learn more about the people represented and their personal stories by showing them in a context that related to them, but there isn’t always the opportunity to do both. The artist made the choice to showcase each person or pair in front of such an iconic structure that we can’t help but feel that the statement is less about the individual person, but the idea that they are each a part of France regardless of their status as citizens or where they came from. However, accepting them as part of this great country should not be to disregard a person’s history, family, or heritage which was highlighted in the way that each person was named. 

So who are these people “here and now”? I see them as people that come from a diverse range of places and cultures, but somehow ended up here in Paris. Why? Each person has their own story to tell, and while they tell their story, we can accept them for where they come from, where they are now, and where they are going. 

Let’s welcome each other. 

[cathrynschof-blog]

Place de la Concorde

If one is wandering around the Tulleries Gardens near Musee de Louvre (ya know, casually) it’s pretty easy to find your way to a large square that is brimming with tourists, bikers, and mass quantities of Parisian vehicles that speed around a traffic circle with what seems like no possible rhyme or reason.

I found myself in this square the other day as my friends and I strolled through the gardens because a large monument with a gold pointed top caught our eyes. We decided to make our way to the structure by somehow crossing the traffic circle (while not getting plowed over) to see the lovely statues, fountains, and grand monument. Was this a good idea? Maybe not, but we did it anyway.

As lovely as this area may be, there is a long history to it that complicates the attraction and in a way has given this place three distinct “lives”.

In 1755, during the reign of King Louis XV, a competition was put in place to create a square in the center of Paris that would honor the king. Thus, the architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel won the right to design the large “place” and completed it in 1775. It was given the name Place Louis-XV.

Painted view of the place from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Paris_Place_de_la_concorde_et_Champs-Elysees_19Jh.jpg  

However, in 1792 the royal statue of Louis XV a top his stallion was toppled down as the start of the revolution commenced in Paris. It was then that the square was renamed to Place de la Révolution and its purpose was twisted towards a much more sinister use.

This use was called “the national razor” in France during the time of the revolution, but you may know it by the name of guillotine. This square became the grounds for thousands upon thousands of deaths but most famously: Louis XVI and his queen Marie-Antoinette. What a place, right? It’s hard to imagine when standing in the center of a busy traffic circle, but this sad history is a reminder of the stories that a place can hold. What happened here? How many people watched loved ones guillotined in this very spot?

Drawing of the guillotining of Marie-Antoinette from 

After the revolution the square was seen as a place of blood-shed, and nobody wants that memory, right? In order to give new life to the area where so many had died, the Directory renamed it Place de la Concorde or “place of harmony” as it is known today. Attempting to beautify the spot for the people of Paris, two Romanesque fountains were arected on either end, as well as statues to represent eight different cities in the country of France.

Today, the square is bustling, crowded, and slightly trapped by the traffic of locals and tourists alike as they try to make their way around the circle.  

Entering the square for me (after almost getting squashed by the mass chaos of the Eurpean rotary) was a mix of feeling both trapped and strangely, at peace. The large Luxor Obelisk, which was added around 1840 to the center of the island, and the fountains on either side were beautiful and constant amidst the noise of cars and horns. In front of the Obelisk there was a placard on the ground the commemorated the place and told its history from the revolution. 

So what do I think? It’s interesting how a place with such a bloody history can be represented in such a way now. I’m sure that many people walk through the square everyday not knowing what took place in that very spot and look instead to the lovely fountains or large monument. 

Today it seems as though through the hustle and bustle of the city, the beauty of the square now, and the many tourists that visit everyday it is easy to lose the history of a place. For me, it was a strange feeling to stand (mostly) safe and comfortable where thousands were killed. Oh how places change. Though I am thankful for the experience of knowing what happened there, I am also thankful for the beauty of it now and the memory of being there with friends. To conclude, places can be complicated as they occupy both pain and beauty. But aren’t we all?

A tout a l’heure!

[cathrynschof-blog]

Musée Marmottan-Monet

The streets that lead us through the 16th Arrondissement were winding and busy, but walking up to the former home of Paul Marmottan gave me a sense of anticipation and excitment. The reason for this was due in part to the large and incredibly important collection of paintings by none other than Impressionst artist Claude Monet that I knew I would be seeing when I entered. Here we go!

At first glance Musée Marmottan Monet just looked like one of the many beautiful historical properties that lined the street of Louis-Biolly. I say this because of its three stories and ornate exterier that blends with the surrounding architecture. The only distinguishable element that made the building stand out as more than this was a large sign hanging from a poll near by that confirmed (thankfully) I was in the right place.

The entrance to the museum had been converted into an official check-in and security point, but once through this the building could easily be seen as the grand and beautiful home that it once was. This begs the question, how and why did it become a museum?

Built in the mid to late 19th century and home to art historian Paul Marmottan, this “modest” house was home to its owner’s private art collection. This collection included tapesties and sculptures from the renaissance period, paintings and portraits from the First Empire, and a wide array of ornate furnature that would have been the trend of the period. Basically, this guy had a lot going for him. 

In 1932 Marmottan bequeathed his lovely home and personal collection to the Académie des Beaux-Arts, thus its transformation into a place the public could enjoy. However, it didn’t end there as various art historians and friends and family of well-known artists began to gift their collections to the musuem, growing it even farther. Notably, in 1971 Michel Monet, son of Impressionst painter Claude Monet, donated 65 of his fathers canvas to the musuem to be admired by all. To best showcase this important body of work, a modern undergrown space was build to display Monet’s masterpieces and leave the historical upstairs of the home intact. 

When experiencing the museum I first explored the upstairs rooms of the building. These were the ones that were filled with original furnature and decor, gold trim and accents of carefullly carved leaf designs. The paintings on the walls were a mixture of Neoclassical work, Impressionist and Post-Impressionist work, and ornate decorations that seemed to be original to the home and/or the century. Some notable artists that graced the walls were artists Manet, Morisot, Renoir, and Gouguin which was an interesting contrast to the renaissance tapestries that hung in rooms just around the corner.

Berthe Morisot, Portrait of Louise Riesener, 1881

After taking in all that I could I headed to the undergrown space. This area of the museum was clearly built much more recently and was a large, open concept gallery that was simplistic in decor and color. The main event was clearly the art.

At the bottom of the stairs to the right was the only sectioned off space in the downstairs. This was for good reason. 

The “main event” if you will from the room was none other than Monet’s Impression: Sunrise. The very painting that coined the title of the famous movement. Let’s just say I stood there for a long while and tried to take it all in without possibly crying (you think I’m exaggerating). It was a big deal.

Once I separated myself from the small, side room I stepped into the open gallery that was filled with large Monet canvases that stretched around the room. The collection was not just an example of a period of his work, but work that had spanned his career. The far left of the space housed his earlier paintings that were more reprentational in nature and focused on a variety of subject matter that included, people, nature, and architecture. As I moved through the space, his works turned towards nature as he played with color and the mark of the paint, then finally to his darker, less representational works which closed the exhibit. 

Seeing not just a few works my Monet, but an entire floor filled with some of his most incredible paintings was both overwhelming and peaceful. His work continued to be honest and exploratory as he aged and pursued new ways to use paint, and never shying away from something because it was different.

The exhibit did a wonderful job of highlight the work of this master through its simplistic design and flowing space to make Monet’s work the true centerpiece. Thought it was not his entire body of work, the museum displayed his work as though one was taking a walk through his life and career. How did his work change and evolve? What subject matter was he attracted to? How did his use of color change? I got to walk through a journey with him as I took in his work. It was a truly inspriring space to be in and a wonderful escape into Monet’s peaceful world of water lilies and paint.

Monet, Water Lilies

Sources: Michelin Green Guide

All photos are my own

[cathrynschof-blog]

Time to make some mistakes

A few days ago I got on a plane, traveled through the night, and landed in a city that I’ve truthfully been dreaming about for who knows how long. I remember stepping off the plane into a strange new place that was occupied by locals and travelers alike and wondering (1: what day it was and (2: how on earth was I going to get anywhere if I couldn’t understand the local language? Scary as it was, I arrived from the metro a few hours later at my home away from home for the next little while (aka the cutest little hotel room I get to share with my best bud) and was soon swept up in the avdentures of Paris.

It’s been five days (I think. Time is still confusing when one is jetlagged) since them and I can’t believe some of the things that I have done while experiencing this beautiful city. As I wander through streets, museums, cafes, local tourist attractions, and even the little breakfast corner at my hotel I am reminded that we do not grow in our comfort zones. Have you even cracked a completely raw egg onto a perfectly good plate of breakfast because you thought it was hard boiled? Have you ever done that while trying to look totally natural and Perisian in a cafe full of people eating breakfast in close proximity? In so, me too!!

These kinds of moments (and believe me, there are more) made me feel like such an outsider. But hey, they also made me aware of how alive (and totally awkward) I am. These are the growth moments, the ones that we get to look back on realize how much we’ve learned, even if that new knowledge is as simple as knowing that hard boiled eggs aren’t always pre-made for you at breakfast.

Paris, I love you already and I plan to keep making mistakes as I go.