LETTER FROM PARIS #11 pure joy

I was exhausted. I was totally stressed. I was utterly delighted! It was an afternoon with our friend in Paris, Henri DeLord and his wife Michele.

I was exhausted because you don’t just “look” at art with Henri – you endure it. I was stressed because I was in way over my head talking about esoterica like what makes great art great and what makes some art “calendar” art – to use Henri’s words? The stress was because I had to do it all in French, struggling for words and trying to keep up with Henri whose explanations came in torrents.

But mostly, I was enchanted, entranced, delighted, and transported. It was my first visit to Giverny and its riot of flowers, its black tulips, it’s twining wisteria, the camellias still blooming, azaleas in a cascade of b right red – and with it all – Henri, who never stopped talking.

But I know that I have found a true friend and even soul mate because we share the same relentless characteristic: intolerance. The word “snob” is used in French. He is one and perhaps I am too. Perhaps it is a French characteristic to accept the excellent and reject the meaningless, and do it as vigourously as possible. He agrees with me that there is no point in being tolerant of people who don’t know what they are talking about – especially if you are convinced that you do!
He is.

Strolling through the wonderfully preserved Monet home we come to a wall of “Monet” paintings. “Terrible” grumbles Henri. “Horrible” he repeats. “They are copies, and bad copies at that.” And it is almost as if only he, among the hundreds of visitors we were sharing the house with, really knew that these were fake Monets. Just as quickly however, he was drawn to the exquisite Japanese wood block pictures. Vibrant colours, Fine lines. 18th century. Room after room of them. And endowed with the tranquility that only a Japanese wood block print offers.

Then it was to the Impressionist Museum. It was originally a museum for American Impressionists, but they dropped sponsorship. It is now maintained by the Monet foundatin and offers an exceptional display of Impressionism. Henri of course had to quibble about exactly when Impressionism ended and Post-Impressionism began. More of this kind of attitude and I know I like him.

He stops by a Sisley. It is a country lane winding through an arbour of trees. Henri sniffs: “Arte de calendare,” then goes on to say that people collect stuff like this because they are swept away by the name and have no idea if the work is any good. Then I look across the room. I exclaim: “Renoir.” Henri smiles. I am accepted into whatever select group Henri is head of. He, of course knows the difference between calendar art and unique art. In his mind, he is right. He accepts that he is a snob. He accepts that he is intolerant of ignorance, especially when it comes to art. And all the while I am becoming more and more stressed because he is rattling it all off in high speed French (despite my continuing requests that he speak more slowly) and I am trying to respond in kind. I use words I never have used before. I “Francify” English words and more often than not I have hit the right word – or close to it.

Everyone who comes to France should have an Henri DeLord. He will not let you simply take in the sights. He will insist that you really see, that you are not afraid to be critical, and that when something is be loved, you love it with the same degree of passion you give to your snobbery.

Of course Giverny is not like any place on earth. The lilies have not yet flowered but everything else has. Do you really feel the presence of Claude Monet? Some people say you do.

Just a footnote: Henri DeLord is a very successful artist and designer. If you want to see some of his work you can visit his website at delordesign.com