'Alloween!

Halloween in France is very much a non-event, pushed only by shops trying cash in on the American-exported holiday. However, as Brits in France, we threw our own Halloween party and invited everyone we knew in Boulogne/Paris – totalling about 20. Our French neighbour invited a group of his friends, meaning that there were ACTUAL REAL FRENCH PEOPLE at our party. 

Beware of the Boggart!

However, their costumes reflected how the French don’t really ‘get’ Halloween. The (literary) theme chosen for our party was ‘BOGGART BASH’; you had to come as what your Boggart would turn in to after it sprang from the wardrobe and you had shrieked ‘RIDIKILOUS’ at it. Essentially something that TERRIFIES you, but made to look a little silly.

For anyone that knows me even remotely well, or anyone who has just had the slightly awkward experience of trying to cook a meal for me, it will come as no surprise to you that I didn’t have to think twice about my costume: SAUCE. More specifically, ketchup, that spawn-of-Satan-sauce. To make it a little rire-dicilous (pun credit to Natalie), I made Heinz Ketchup that little bit ‘saucy’ with the addition of my entirely not-culturally-offensive-or-stereotyping moustache.

Saucyyyy

From butterflies to badgers, a questionable Elvis to an early-morning self-portrait, it was apparent that us English had mastered the theme, and had been perfecting our costume-skills for the last three or four years of our lives a.k.a. university. The French however came in afro wigs and oversized glasses, and ski clothes. “As-tu peur de faire du skiing” – “Non, je l’adore!” (« Are you afraid of skiing ? » - « No, I love it ».) They hadn’t quite got the whole scary ‘Halloween’ thang…

From one point of confusion to another: twins. It transpires that in the flat beneath me lives a set of twins, both of whom were at the party (and who bought another set of twins with them. Must’ve met at twin camp).Thing is, I’ve lived here a month. And I’ve just realised. Now, I’m beginning to question whether it has been more than just the language barrier that has made stairwells conversations a little strange.

Sophie's carved peppers

It may have lacked the raucousness of Halloween formal, and Sophie may have had to carve peppers instead of pumpkins due to a notable citrouil-dearth, but I still managed to have a spooktacular Halloween in Paris!

Genesis

On Thursday, Rachel and I went to a photography exhibition of Sebastiao Salgado’s Genesis project.

After the 9 hour queue for Tour 13, the 1 hour wait to get into La Maison Européenne de la Photographie was negligible and soon we were amidst the hundreds of black-and-white photos that comprise Salgado’s exhibition.

Taken in 32 countries around the world, the collection of photos shot over 8 years is intended to capture the unspoiled beauty of the natural world – “the unblemished face of nature and humanity” - and of tribes unaffected by modern civilisation, living in harmony with nature. 

The photos themselves were absolutely stunning and it proved impossible to appreciate each of the 200-strong photos as they deserved. Many were surreal and if it weren’t for the explanatory plaques, which grounded each photo to a particular geographical place and time, it would have been hard to believe the spectacular scenes of the photographs were real and not a product of Photoshop and imagination.







This impression was only augmented when, in the Africa room of the exhibition, Rachel and I found Salgado’s shots from Ethiopia, of things and places we’d seen first-hand. One of his photos was of the endemic Gelada baboon, which we’d seen in the Simien Mountains National Park, and another was of the seemingly never-ending rolling hills of Lalibela. This photo looked as if it were taken from the exact spot at which we had stopped to take our own photo and became a kind of evidence that all of Salgado’s photographs, despite their fantastical qualities, were truly documenting our epic planet.

 

Spot the Salgado: his photo of Lalibela, Ethiopia

Spot the Salgado: my photo of Lalibela, Ethiopia

Week 4: Tour Paris 13

Tuesday 22^nd October: the day I spent 9 hours queuing. This alone is worthy of note. More remarkable, however, was what I was queuing for – Tour Paris 13 (or Tower 13). This derelict tower block, found in Paris’ 13^th arrondissement near Quai d’Austerlitz, once housed residents across its 9 floors, in 36 apartments. When I saw it, however, it was housing street art of over 100 international street artists, making it the world’s biggest street art exhibition. 

Abandoned and set for demolition in late 2013, the building was taken over by Galerie Itinerrance, a project which follows the street art movement in Paris’ 13^th. More than 100 street artists were gathered from around the world and  given their own room – the floor, walls, ceilings, doors and whatever the occupants had left in their (baths, kitchen appliances, shelves) to make of what they would. 

Covered with art within and without, the tower was open to the public, free of charge, for the month of October, after which it will be demolished, and the art destroyed. These conditions make for an extremely innovative artistic experiment.

The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, when the dots in the photo above are reflected into the metal ball in the
middle of the floor

Obviously, the ‘street’ art was clearly not on any street. You might think that by taking something that people normally stumble across in their daily lives, without giving much attention to and generally never deliberately seek out for themselves, no-one would want to visit the Tower. Yet my 9-hour queue suggests otherwise. Strange, the effect that providing some structure and organisation to something normally spontaneous and free creates. For the month of its opening, Tour 13 was overwhelmingly, and quite possible unpredictably, successful. Every day, hoards of people were turned away, only increasing the queues in the following days, as visitors became determined to see the art. Street art by its very nature is impermanent, free, public and accessible to anyone that happens to see it. Tour 13’s art captured all this, as a free, open-to-all ‘gallery’. However, the knowledge of its ephemerality created a demand that changed one vital thing – the intended accessibility of the Tour became reduced due to the queues. This added a further element of limitability, on top of the already one-month viewing slot, which isn’t usually present with street art. 

What does the fox say? 

Moreover, the time-limited tower focused viewer’s attention onto the impermanence of street art and the fleeting nature of the moment in time each piece tends to capture, augmenting the true nature of the art form and its ephemeral acts of creation. 

Rimbaud

Apart from how super-great the artistic vision behind the project is, the capturing of the moment etc. etc., the Tour also showed me some things about humanity. Profound, I know. But if you queue for 9 hours with people all united for the same cause, it makes for an interesting social experiment. Especially as a Brit in a French queue. Naturally, there was much angst involved in, particularly when a girl a few people in front of us mysteriously turned up in half way through the day and I tried to accuse her of queue jumping in stammering, broken French. Besides that, the experience made for an intense experience of bonding with strangers. When the breast-feeding mother and her tiny, sushi-eating baby, who had queued in front of us all day, got spotted by the security guard on the door and summoned to the front of the queue, everyone around us cheered. It was really quite emotional. And don’t get me started on the drama that unfolded when, at 7.15pm, the time of the final entry to the Tour of the day, the security guard beckoned 5 of us forward to enter…and we were in a group of 6. 

Emotions running high, we had 45 minutes to see all 36 rooms of the Tour before it shut at 8pm. Yes, that’s right. We queued for 9 hours to spend 45 minutes inside. But high on adrenaline, we were intent on seeing everything. Here are the rest of the pictures; see for yourself… 

"It's mine"

The right-hand wall is a mirror, only one eye is painted.

Through the key-hole

WE MADE IT!