The Artist’s Studio is in the Body

A black hammer and chisel pound the air as attentive pasty children gather
around the deafening silence and listen as best as they can, watching the naked
room fill with puffy white dust- as if those marble bodies need explaining

The second-graders sit around an older stately woman who sits in an
upholstered armchair much like a portrait and she says in French how
the statues were made and demonstrates how to hold the heavy tools

The teacher stops to catch her breath as the feisty kids pass weathered
tools around with plaster laughs. Scrambling for sitting space, wide-eyed
blond children on a field trip settle down on the floor of a former bedroom,
huge-eyed and barely able to contain their questions, crowd the space

the curves of the lovers’ backs and arms embracing each other engage
the senses like wet grass newly mown caught up in a summer breeze
coming in through immense double windows- lips slightly open

To the thrill of those stone stares, soft skin with veins, subtle muscles,
fingernails and hair come into being like an endless story she keeps
the kids mesmerized with- vigilant eyes that hover over reading glasses.

A spark rises in her as she expounds on the manifestations of eternal love
exemplified in the massive sculpture, a passion not extinguished by calendars,
clocks or astronomical cycles. Her knowing smile subtly recounts brazen
afternoon encounters while keeping the kids entertained; she schools us all
on the kiss, the youthful arms, the eyes connected, the evolutionary desire
that lies dormant and undiscovered in their small bodies and yet fully and
artfully played-out in hers

At the front entrance, two old men cut in line, one apologetic, the other
waving his cane like an anxious aristocrat, which gives me just enough
time to fumble through- Je voudrais un billet, s’il vous plait- not as magical
as chanting verbs in high school French, but somehow sweeter as it dissolves
in my mouth like hard fragrant candy from a purple oval tin bringing back
bow-tied Mr. Hastings, embodiment of all the sunken treasures in this murky
channel spanning Middle English and Modern French, whose perfectly
combed grey hair, starched striped shirts, linen jackets and pressed trousers
could not reduce him to a caricature, even after two decades; He opened my
mind to pungent rounds of cheese, mineral water bubbly in tinted glass,
surreal films, existential angst, crusty baguettes, corny jokes, fancy tins of
Foie Gras and tons of moldy books, postcards and fading photographs along
the river bank- what more could a precocious public school teenager desire?

Here I stand alone a man just shy of forty, turning the lever of Metro doors
opening and exiting at Varenne, following the sculptures and signs to a garden
and former Baroque hotel full of life captured for all eternity- the born thinker staring at the bronze one wonders how the chapters of his life have brought him to this page, here in the heart of Paris on this garden path at the end of spring enjoying
even the cool shade of branches heavy with new leaves and the tall proud roses
pale with anticipation.

The artist’s studio is in the hands of a blind man feeling the eternal toes, seeing
more than I could ever imagine and sensing the perfection of our bodies.

Rosie

I love London and consider it my home, but Paris is the most beautiful and sophisticated city in the world. And to my sheer joy, I have never been treated badly by any Parisian. I think that they are as proud of their city and their culture as anyone else is of their own - so they should be - and expect visitors to be respectful of that.

Once you get there and immerse yourself, you feel like one of them. It's a great moment.

Funnily enough, my favorite place there is Shakespeare Books, which is the largest English language bookstore in France. It's old and dusty and has loft beds for starving authors passing through. It was featured in the movie "Before Sunset" with Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. I think it's a must for any future Paris trip. It's on the Left Bank, just by Notre Dame.

I'm heading there next week. Woohoo!

Take care and all the best!