Sitting by canal at corner of Quai de Jemmapes and rue de Lancy — Wednesday, 6.5, 9:55 pm.
Same old Musee D’Orsay shot I’ve been taking since the late ’80s.
Quai de Jemmapes and rue de Lancy — Wednesday, 6.5, 9:05 pm.
$400 bills and change for a pair of wireless headphones? I don’t think so. Skullcandy will do just fine, thanks.
I’ve been staring at Van Gogh paintings for decades, first at the Jeau de Paume and more recently at the Musee D’Orsay. And each new time I get a little more emotional. Tears almost well up. The guy was so unrespected, so unloved, so unknown, so broke his entire life. Anyway, yesterday I re-experienced the usual-usual in front of “Le Nuit Etoile” (Starry Night). I put my face right up to it and it looked so vivid and shiny and fresh and alive with dozens of little micro-globs or oil paint sticking out a millimeter or two from the canvas, like little micro-sculptures or micro-moldings. It was as if Van Gogh himself was alive in the next room.
