DON'T MAKE ME GO

Group picture after jazz concert at American Cathedral

Seriously. How am I leaving at the end of this week!? This week sucks, by the way, because everyone is consumed with work and no one wants to do anything. I am forcing myself to be social and see people. It requires great efficiency during the day that may or may not be achieved. I still want to make it over to Jardin des Plantes since I have done nothing touristy for the past week and a half and Paris is slipping through my fingers.

Anyway, a little run-down on what I've been up to since last Wednesday:

• Thursday: I woke up pretty late and then did homework (I think...). That evening was La Fête de la crêpe at ISEP where some other students presented their artwork and we munched on crepes courtesy of Elizabeth. Kerstin and Thierry presented their sketches from their live model drawing class at EAP; Jen presented her acrylic paintings from her class at EAP; Tammy presented her pastels inspired by Monet she did for the Practicum; Natalia performed a dance from her dance group back at Stanford; Scott presented his cross made out of wood and broken wine bottles he made for the Practicum; overall, it was a great success! Scott and David brought their guitars and played some Simon and Garfunkel, Kai and Peter danced impressive salsa, and it was a good time by all. I was a bit of a wallflower to my chagrin, but it was nice to be a spectator and chill out a bit.
• After the fête I went with Farah to the 15th so she could drop off her stuff, and then we went to the St. Germain-des-Près area to check out a bar we had heard much about, Chez George (no s) and meet up with Farah's friend, Soraya. It was exactly what you might imagine a crowded Parisian bar to be. We descended the stairs into a small room filled with people sitting at wooden tables on little stools, a fire was burning, music played in the other room (accessed through a small stone archway), and you bought wine by the bottle. It gets an A for ambience. We had a really fun time talking to French people there before we headed over to the first to go to a club called Le Cab. It was very chic, very nice, and I think I saw some Fashion Week models, but you never know.
• Friday: I thankfully didn't have my health systems class. I woke up, did homework, went to the Center, did more work, had dinner, and then met up with Heimunn and Jen for drinks. It wasn't a very eventful day.
• Saturday: Jen, JW, Michael, Mackenzie and I went to a diner called "Breakfast in America." The waiters are all American and so is the food. I got the Deuces Wild (two eggs, two pancakes, and two strips of bacon) and split chili-cheese fries with Mackenzie. JW got the Triple Play (use your imagination) and a strawberry shake with a side of home fries; Jen got a milkshake and eggs over easy with toast and potatoes; Mackenzie got a classic burger. IT WAS AMAZING. I love French food but America does some things right.

The aftermath of Breakfast in America

• After brunch I headed to Montmartre to do a Practicum project. I had decided I was going to offer free portraits near the Sacre Coeur to participate and engage in the artist community of Montmartre. This was all good in theory, but when I got there I was scared because 1) I'm a bad artist and 2) there were legitimate artists all around me. After walking around aimlessly I finally mustered the courage to take out my sketch pad and "Junior Artist Pastels." Below is the write-up I did for the course; feel free to read it. It was a pretty interesting experience.

Me with some of my clients

I felt incredibly dumb as five artists came over to where I was standing to see what I was all about. I explained to them I was not an artist, but was offering portraits as part of an art project. They felt my paper and remarked on its quality: “Ça coute très cher,” they kept saying. They eyed my pastels. One kind artist agreed to let me do his portrait. He chose the red pastel, “Rouge comme les femmes.” I did his portrait while the other artists hovered around, laughing at my obtuse skill. When I finished, I felt more confident about the whole endeavor and was ready to advertise a little more. I made a sign: “Amateur, mais gratuit,” and placed it at my feet.

A group of students approached me next. They were very friendly and I did the portraits of four of the girls. The first girl kept joking (in French), “Don’t do the pimple, okay!?” since she had a blemish on her forehead. I assured her it would not be included. The other artists were giving me dirty looks, jealous of my popularity. When the group of kids had left (and after they tipped me four euro!), some of the artists said snidely (in French), “You need to say amateur portrait on your sign. Otherwise people will probably think you’re a free prostitute.” So kind. So I added “Portrait” above “Amateur,” and stood my ground.

An American man with his hood on came and stood next to me. I asked if he wanted his portrait done. He responded, “Do I look like I do?” and laughed jovially. He then said, “I just did something pretty silly. Want to hear about it?” Of course I did. Turns out he had just gotten a beer at the pub up the street, and then decided to order a coffee. When the bill came, it turned out the beer was 4 euro, and the coffee was 4.50 euro! Ken, the hooded American, was pissed at the pub for charging him so much, so he stole the salt- and peppershakers. He reached into his front pocket and showed them to me. We laughed about that for a while. He was nice and made me feel less afraid of the other artists. He finally agreed to have me draw his portrait, which turned out really badly but he was good-natured about it. As I was absorbed in drawing his portrait, though, the angry artists stole my sign! Ken kindly offered his portrait as the new sign, so I took it and wrote, “PORTRAIT AMATEUR GRATUIT,” on the back and placed it at my feet.

A couple walked by and the woman looked at my sign with interest. They stopped and asked if it was really free, and I confirmed it really was but with the caveat that I was not a good artist. That was okay with them. I started to draw the woman but then two nasty old artists came over to me, complaining that what I was doing was horrible and that I was taking away from their livelihood, that was I was doing was just too much. I asked them to let me finish the portrait I was doing, but then they snatched my new sign. “Give that back!” I said forcefully, but they refused. Then Ken intervened and said, “That’s my portrait! That’s mine!” The old artists saw his picture on the back and grudgingly returned the sign, but I was still quite disturbed. As I returned my attention to my customer, another scary old artist got in my face and told me with a nearly incomprehensible accent to “Fuck off.” Clearly my prodigious portraiture skills were threatening to them. I finished the portrait I was doing, more hastily than I wanted to, and moved around the corner.

I was disappointed I hadn’t held my ground since I had every right to be in the other location, but I had started to feel legitimately threatened. Around the corner I was alone. I set up camp next to some side steps of the Sacre Coeur, putting up my sign once more. A family came by and the little girl wanted her portrait done. I obliged and unfortunately it turned out quite badly. Children are hard! I drew her face shape all wrong. I asked her if she liked it at the end and she didn’t answer in the affirmative. Oh well, I tried. Her mom kindly tipped me five euro, though, and was very gracious in general.

By this time the wind had kicked in and my hands were starting to get really cold. I decided I would call it a day in 15 minutes. The last customers were a group of 20-somethings; three Brits and one French person. They approached and I thought I heard them speaking English, so I asked, “français ou anglais?” and they responded, “N’importe,” with good French accents, so we continued in French. When they sat and I started drawing, we started talking and I told them I was from the States, and they said, “Oh, so we can speak in English?” We spoke in English after that. Their portraits ended up okay on the whole.

• I was so tired when I got home I didn't even eat dinner; I just went to bed. Early night.
• Sunday: I was pretty productive. I pretty much just did homework the whole day. I met up with Farah for dinner near Opéra Garnier. We got to talking to the two French guys sitting next to us (after they offered up some of their fondue), and it turns out one is a guide-book writer. He spent three weeks in Vegas once! Crazy. Anyway, he was full of recommendations for places for us to go in Paris, mostly in the 19th and 20th. This was all very kind, but he kept describing the bars as the "trashiest places." He meant places to get trashed, or drink a lot, but Farah and I kept laughing because it sounded so funny. Oh, the English/French interface.
• Monday: today. I didn't have class, but had lots of work. I woke up, worked on a paper, and then went outside to run. IT WAS SO PRETTY OUTSIDE TODAY! Almost 60 degrees, cloudless sky, warm sun; ah, c'était merveilleux. I wish I could have spent more time outside! The crocuses and daffodils are up in Bois de Boulogne, the flowers are blooming in the Jardin du Ranelagh, and I am stuck indoors writing papers! At least I sat in the sun at my fave café where the waiter and I are buddies, La Rotonde La Muette. Then I was off to the Center to hole myself up, edit and print my paper, and start work on a presentation.

I have some things to look forward to, thankfully. Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Emilie to go back with her to Domont to look at a chateau near her house and have dinner with her family. Thursday is the Bing goodbye dinner at the Palais de Tokyo, which should be scrumption (and sad). Joanna gets here on Friday and I can't wait to see her! Then we're off Nice... But first, a presentation, another paper, a peer review, and two art presentations. Whoopee!

(I don't think anyone my age has ever said "Whoopee" in their lives.)