Homage to Monet at visit to Giverny

Saturday April 9 Giverny Monet and Bonnard
Check

(click here) my photo album of Monet's garden.

I was going a little soft on Monet as I was saturated in his Water Lilies and Haystacks and his obsessions with light. In the true abstract tradition that you must not be distracted by reality. But after my visit yesterday to the d'Orsay I had got over this softness and was keen to go to see was he was up to in Giverny.

I used my Eurail pass to get out to Vernon and then rented a bicycle to do the trip to Giverny. I got ripped off. There was a big hassle at the bike rental area as many had got off the train and headed straight for the bike shop. Being in the 1st class carriage I got there first and was protecting my allocated bike. The bike looked at a glance like a good mountain bike and I first checked the brakes and they were well adjust so I make a generalized decision that all else was ok and gave up my money. It was the worst bike I have ever ride. It was a 21 speed bike and the rear cluster would not change passed number 3 which meant I was peddling really fast. The back wheel I soon realized was buckled and was rubbing on the brake pads every turn. The seat looked ok but it was hard and hit all the wrong spots.

I rode around the old village of Vernon trying to find the information de tourist to get a map and also buying my lunch and keeping to the RIGHT side of the road. At the deli the shop keeper refuse absolutely to sell me 50 gms of jellied beef and emphasis that the smallest piece she would sell was 250gm. I could have bought my lunch for less. But the jelled beef looked nice (as was) so I parted with my euros. The girl at the tourist office was very pleasant and gave me the map I needed by didn't tell me that there was a nice safe bike track all the way to Monets house. She indicated that I follow the main road. The building this office was in, and all the building beside it, was leaning substantially to the right that they must be close to collapse. But inside the office was fitted out in as a modern office with no concern as to the fact it could all fall down at any moment. (I had noticed this problem in Amsterdam as well)

It was only when I started of the 7 km ride to Monet's house that I began to realize that the bike had problems - there had been too many distractions in the village to pickup any problems as It took me some time to workout how to change the gears by the twisting the handgrip close to the brake. I crossed the bridge over the Seine River and took some photos, then turned right at the round-a-bout and headed along the river flats to Giverny. After a few kilometers a local stopped me and told me that I would be happier of the bike track and indicated when I could join it. The cars whizzing past me had been worrying but French driver are very good and always consider bike riders. I was always aware that drivers were slowing and give me (and any other bike rider) space.



The bike track was a much more pleasant ride and I was able to look at the houses as I went by and to watch tradesmen working on roofing tiles etc. The village on Giverny was a simple street village with the church on the high point.

There were only three things to do in Giverny: Monet's garden, the Impressionist gallery and Monets grave. I stopped in front of Monet's house and saw the long queue of tourist (I'm not one of them of course) so I stopped by a park bench and ate my expensive lunch. When I joined the queue is was very short (the tourist were all at the very expensive restaurant) and I got in straight away.

The entrance was though a small side cottage and not the main house. It contain the essential Museum Shop to get even more money out of the tourist pockets, I often wondered why they even charge admission at Museums but then they know there are mean spend-thrifts like me and they can't let them though the door for nothing.

On exiting this little building I was "hit" with the garden.

It was an incredible sight which just got better and better as I walked through it. I was stunned. I have never seen flowers as big and as colourful as these here. Very large flowers of every colour planted carefully beside other colourful small flowers of suitable close or contrasting colours. Monet planted this garden as if it was a painting. I continually took photos to tried and capture this contrast.

The little paths guided me to an under-pass. A railway, and then a road, had been build through the centre of Monet's garden many years ago - clearly the village planning bureaucrats had no idea of the value they were trashing. This took us under the road to the waterways and lake which Monet constructed to make his Japanese bridge and water lily garden.

This was truly a wonderful place. Each turn of the track gave yet another vista to glimpse this bridge (a reconstruction and not the original bridge we were told) across the lake with the willow trees hanging branches and leaves partially obscuring the green bridge. An enormous amount of coloured blooms were arranged around us as if a huge painting brush was swooping down and splashing colour in all the right places.

I'm running out of words and I have put up a photo album of the garden at the top of this post.

It was clear the Monet was not poor in his time as the house was well appoint with a very nice wood burning iron kitchen stove and oven. The utensils were all copper and the house generally would have been very comfortable to live in. The views across to the Seine River were very pleasing and restful. Entertainment at this time of the year would have been most enjoyable.

I left the house dazed with colour and rode back along the street to the Impressionist gallery to see the Pierre Bonnard exhibition. This was a prize for me as I have always admired Bonnard and have come to think that he had found the right point between representation and abstraction. I was to now look at 80 of his work be did while living in Vernon as a close friend of Monet and the usual crowd of impressionist artist of the time.

His 1930 'Self Portrait" --- great

1920 'The Head of a Woman' --- great

1924 'Reflecting on the day'



1913 'Standing nude from behind' --- great painting

1939 'Terrace at Vernon' --- one of a number of great landscapes










1920 'The Balcony at Vernonet'

Other great painting which I have not yet got images were:

1916 'The Lunch'

1915 'Nude before Mirror'

1925 'Nude at her bath'

Audio commentary quote: "Bonnard's start his painting in a space that is already abstract"
Bonnard would do his initial painting from a model and then complete the painting from his memory!!

I bought a same English language book on Bonnard at the Museum shop and the Bonnard images above are photographed from this book as they wouldn't let me take photos in the gallery.

I slowly rode back to Vernon giving unnecessary thought time to how I was going to get a refund from the guy who had rented me this bike. I had to get the train at 6pm and rode around looking at the bridge gatehouse which was a four-tower cluster with slate conical rooves. The remain of the old bridge stone work stretched out across a narrow channel of the Seine to an island and the section over the main river channel was gone completely.

I rode around the Vernonet section of the village of Vernon and explored the narrow street and alley ways. I came across a tavern where there were men playing the French bowling game of Petanque. This is played with 8 Steel Boules in a set. A small plastic 'jack' is thrown out on the ground, which can be anywhere that is basically flat, it doesn't seem to matter if the are plants and trees about. It all works out. The steel balls are them thrown (not bowled) towards the jack with a carefully crafted 'back-spin'. The thrower does this so when the steel ball hit the ground they don't roll quickly forward but slow and go to the right or left depending on the thrower's spin. They have to get closest to the jack (as in our bowls) and may knock opponent's ball out of the way. It is always watched by spectators giving unwanted advice. A few minutes of entertainment for me to watch real pub culture in action.

I rode back across the Seine bridge and thought the main village, where I bought a very nice pistachio ice cream, very nice after a long ride. I then took my bike back to the bike shop and tried to make my point with the man. He tried to trivialised my complaint and when I loudly pointed out the problem he immediately disappeared. Another shop person arrived and I try to tackle the problem with him and he denied that there anything wrong with the bike (language is no problem here - its all gesture and noises). Finally the original guy returned with my deposit and tried to avoid the problem. The only support I got was from the crown around but the bike men keep up the pretense of 'being too busy'. I gave up of course.

The train came and it was nice to have first case seats to escape into sleep for an hour. I woke with a start thinking I had gone passed my station but Paris was the termination of course. I returned to the Ile St Louis by the now very familiar metro.