Since I was a little kid, I have wanted see Paris. One of my favorite books (which I have kept since 8th grade) is Impressionism by Pierre Courthion. I used to spend hours looking at the paintings inside. I admired the artists who seemed to play with light, who saw the world just a little softer, a little more quiet. Somehow, I guessed that living in a city like Paris could inspire this kind of painting.
I was also obsessed with ballet. I took lessons for awhile, but I think mostly I was interested in watching it, not only the movement, but the costumes, especially the point slippers. I associated ballet with France too. I thought that living in a city like Paris would inspire everyone to move gracefully.
I was right. When Benjamin and I departed the train station and then wheeled through the city toward the hotel, I felt elated.
Paris is lovely.
I know that as much as this city has been praised, it has also been criticized. And yes, there should always be a balance of positive and negative reviews. This is healthy critical thinking. But for this post, from this traveler, I must join in the chorus of hallelujahs for the City of Love and Light.
When I saw the Eiffel Tower, I felt like I needed to whisper. I knew that it was one of the world’s most beautiful structures, but until I was standing beneath it, I had no idea how pretty it truly was, like lace…soft grey during the day light and silver and gold sparkles at night.
I have another favorite book called Radical Lace and Subversive Knitting by David Revere McFadden. This book is “a collection of artists who apply traditional knitting and lacemaking techniques to unusual materials” (Holly Hotchner, Director of Museum of Arts and Design). In this book, artist Cal Lane, shares that she used to work as a welder. One day, as a joke for her co-workers, she placed doilies on the machinery. Inspired by how these contrasted, she later began to cut things like shovel heads and wheel barrels to make them look like doilies. The Eiffel Tower reminded me of this, only on a much grander scale.
Of course, now that I am not traveling and have a different focus, I am chasing my usual “research rabbits” down their little holes. I wanted to know what influenced the designer, Gustav Eiffel. I was curious to see if lace played a part. What I discovered was fascinating! During the 1880s, when the Tower was being built, Japanese art was influencing Europe, and in Japanese Shintoism, there is a concept called ‘ma.’ Loosely defined, it is a place for the mind to rest, a respect for emptiness. As someone with a great need for quiet and space inside her brain, I love this. My rabbit hole research had me looking at images of leaves in reticulation and dewy spider webs stretched between thin branches. And according to the same site, yarntasting.com: “Gustav Eiffel was a bridge designer, well schooled in a discipline where wind pressure counts as a weight to bear, and a dynamic one at that. Building a lattice permitted the tower to become the world’s tallest structure by reducing its wind resistance. We look at it and see the iron bars, but the space between them is crucial to the workability of the design.”
The spaces in between are where essential breathing happens…where we slow down. This was Europe for me, Paris especially.
Yes, I stood beneath Gustav’s creation in awe. I imagined a younger version of myself in grey ballet shoes, dancing on the Eiffel Tower.
