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Note: In my last blog I mentioned I'd be posting a Table of Contents for Monet, Mitchell & Me: A Book About Art this week. I'm not doing that today. Instead, I offer you an early draft of a possible first chapter. That said, I do have a framework in mind for organizing the book. And, next week, will post another installment. Stay warm, work hard!  -- Ellie

#MuseumSelfie

It's our first full day in Paris and Roo and I have decided over our omelette at a café near our Airbnb to visit the Musée de L’Orangerie. Neither of us have been there and it would be a great warm-up for the Monet part of the Monet /Mitchell exhibits to see his famed Nympheas installations.

It's an overcast but warm day in Paris and we start out from the Marais in the general direction of the Orangerie. It’s easy to log steps in Paris; later our devices will tell us we’ve trod than 10 miles, but we don't notice. We're entranced by the River Seine, the Louvre, a view of the clock on the Musée D’Orsay across the river, Samaritaine department store, the tiny shop on the Ile de la Cité where they carve a rose into the gelato before serving it up. Delighting in landmarks made familiar for having seen them in guidebooks, in films and, in some cases, on past visits, on and on we walk. Following Google Map directions, however, we've ended up not at our destination but at the Grand Palais. Finally, we ask an actual person for directions, backtrack a few thousand steps to a corner of the Jardins de Tuileries and there we queue for tickets.

As American tourists in Paris the last thing you really want to see are other American tourists, yet we’re everywhere. Clearly, Roo and I aren't the only ones who thought it would be a good idea to visit the Orangerie. If we read such things we'd have know it's on most popular Paris "must-see, must-do" lists.  Some of the largest of Claude Monet's waterlily paintings are here and they are famous. (He made them made in his studio in Giverny especially for installation on the curved walls of this former hothouse.) Clearly, I also believe they are worth seeing or I wouldn't be here, with this crowd.

Making our way toward the first of two large oval galleries, we pass a sign requesting visitors to observe silence in the galleries. Benches are provided to facilitate a meditative viewing of the monumental water lilies. For a moment these instructions make me feel at home—a BIRDS FLY IN experience might be possible here!—I'm hopeful this will be more than a tourist stop.

We enter the first gallery, but no one is silent and, with the buzz of everyone's conversation, it's at all not quiet. Mildly annoyed, I wait patiently to find a spot on one of the benches. Once seated, shoulder to shoulder, I realize that engaging in any meaningful way the art that famously wraps these walls is unlikely.

Instead, looking at the other visitors, I wonder. Have we found our way onto the stage set of “Emily in Paris?” One can barely see the paintings for the selfie-takers that fill the room. Everyone has a mobile phone in hand and most are not looking at the paintings but at their device, far more interested in posing in front of the paintings than looking at them.  

One woman, dressed like a doll complete with white anklets and high-heeled Mary Janes, poses in front of some waterlilies while her boyfriend, receiving her instructions, snaps pics. As each image is considered, retakes are necessary. Finally, one is posted and the two pore over the device as, one imagines, Instagram delivers Likes, Comments and, she hopes, one or more new Followers. Others too, particular if less practiced, primp with a finger comb before extending an arm to grab a shot or two to send along. Evidence of attendance? I suppose.

Am I surprised? Disappointed, but not surprised. Ever since museums began allowing photography, the selfie is de rigeur, ubiquitous and for the most part obnoxious. In most places well-known art is displayed, it’s now virtually impossible to see the artwork for the picture-taking non-lookers.

Some might recall a time when visitors weren’t allowed to take photographs in museums. As recently as July, 2013 ArtNews published an article https://www.artnews.com/art-news/news/photography-in-art-museums-2222/ “Why Can’t We Take Photos in Art Museums.” At that time museums were just starting to yield to those who broke the rules to sneak a selfie with their digital devices. In short order, institutions decided it was to their economic benefit for photos of posing visitors to appear on social media.

In 2014, Museum Selfie Day became an actual thing and since then each January (with Covid exceptions) museums seize the opportunity to encourage selfie-taking behavior. In a 2015 CNN article, "Selfies turn museums into playgrounds for a day," Jareen Imam writes:

"London mom Mar Dixon, who runs a website about museums, art and culture, came up with the campaign last January after visiting several museums with her young daughter.

“'My goal with my daughter when we go to the museum is to learn one new thing. It doesn’t have to be about art though. It can be that the museum sells good carrot cake,” she said….

"She thought a one-day, crowd-sourced phenomenon would promote awareness of great collections of work being housed in national and regional museums.

"Museums worldwide are participating in the online campaign, and some are getting creative. The High Museum of Art in Atlanta, Georgia, shared a photo that re-envisions Greek mythological figures Paris and Oenone, snapping a selfie together.

"Dixon admits she has never worked a day at a museum and doesn’t have a background in art. She’s simply an advocate for museums, culture and art. She says she’s overwhelmed by the positive response #MuseumSelfie is getting online.

"'Today is about being happy, having a good time and getting involved,” Dixon said. “Even if one person goes to a museum today who never goes, just to be a part of this hashtag experience, isn’t that great?'

Great?

Sitting in the Orangerie, I’m troubled that not-looking at Monet’s monumental paintings seems the reason many tourists have paid the price of admission. I balk at the notion of museums as playgrounds, as places where not-looking at art is celebrated in favor of carrot cake. No visual artist I know makes a painting premised on a belief that is just as valuable when placed behind and not within a visitor’s line of sight.

A visual artist creates a painting or drawing for it to be seen and, preferably, deeply seen, and believes that when seen the art will do something more do than give someone a “hashtag experience.”* I want to look, however. Determined to celebrate the artist and engage the paintings, I stand up from the bench and, stepping around the selfie-takers, I bring myself right up close to the paintings. I don’t care who I’m photo-bombing. Now I'm an arm’s length away from the canvas that once was on Monet’s easel and I can explore how he used the brush to in certain way to conjure those lily pads and flowers. Finally, if only for a moment, I find the outer and inner space in which his lotus-magic can work on me. I also take some small pleasure in having prevailed over the crowd, and proud to have had a real art experience.

Leaving the Orangerie, we walk back along the Seine, we stop for a late lunch at Bistrot Pyramide on the Ile de France. It’s cozy inside, with a warm red interior, twinkling lights and the manager is friendly. I’m tired but beginning to suspect that my grumpiness is not really about #MuseumSelfie, or even jet lag . Yes, the art world is imperfect and not all work that deserves to be seen and celebrated ends up that way. But this is France. We're here and there's so much to enjoy—the chocolate mousse here is delicious—I want more of this.

Making a silent vow to set aside my cynicism, I dedicate myself to the enjoyment of the next 3 weeks of artful adventure. I want to know more about Claude Monet and Joan Mitchell, but I also want to know more about the Artist that is Me. Who is Ellie Harold? Why has she been drawn to these two artists.  And what is her artistic purpose? In two days we’d be visiting the main attraction of our French tour: the Joan Mitchell Retrospective and the Monet/Mitchell exhibit. There, I am confident, more will be revealed and I’m excited to find out what.