We had been told sometime ago by someone whom we can’t remember that we should not miss seeing the Fondation Louis Vuitton. (https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en.html)
That person was correct.
Tickets are 16 euros, considerably more expensive than the Louvre, d’Orsay or L’Orangerie. You have to want to get there, because the transit routes only take you to the Arc de Triomphe, where a shuttle bus picks you up to work through the dense traffic in that part of town. But the journey and the expense are worth it.
Architect Frank Gehry’s masterpiece, just opened in 2014, is tucked into the woods of Jardin d’Acclimation well out in the western side of Paris. On a cold rainy day, we rode the RER A to the Arc de Triomphe, then boarded a special shuttle into the woods to reach the building. The shuttle is supposed to cost two euros by credit card, but the driver waved that off for several of us passengers.
Inside the building, the exhibit space was devoted to two large exhibitions of modern artists, Austrian Egon Schiele of the early 20th century, and Jean-Michel Basquiat of the late 20th, we whipped through those to spend more time exploring Gehry’s huge wonderful creation.
One end of the building is devoted to the building itself. On five levels, displays explain the construction, materials, design, context and setting as visitors climb the stairways to each. Gehry was extremely fond of the glass-domed Grand Palais, and the influence can be seen clearly in the FLV.
Gehry envisioned his building as a ship. The internal construction details look very much like the ribs of a hull, and the external glass sails (that’s what he called them) float above the structure. The huge billowing sails are made of two panes of glass, each embedded with tiny dots, so that the visual effect changes with the light. It would have been fascinating to see the place on a prettier day.
In addition to the gallery space that features changing exhibits, the Fondation Louis Vuitton commissioned other artists to design key permanent features. Inside, Ellsworth Kelly decorated the auditorium, a wide open space sporting large expanses of solid color in a number of panels around the walls. Outside, Olafur
Eliasson created a walkway composed of 43 prism-shaped 20-foot columns in various widths that visitors can walk along or through as they wish. The effect is like a living kaleidoscope.
Flowing through this entire maze is a water feature that starts as a cascade down a wide set of stairs and flows into a series of shallow pools.
And overlooking the restaurant is a series of artworks by Gehry himself titled Fish Lamps that seem to have been inspired
by his initial drawings for the building. Many of those are also displayed on the walls of the stairways.
Despite the wet weather, we walked out on the many terraces that offer views of Paris in the distance. Many of the terraces themselves showcase their own art installations, and beverage stands sell hot beverages and waffles to visitors. We spent about two hours in the FLV, most of which were devoted to viewing the building.
The return shuttle crawled through the central Paris afternoon traffic, slowed even more by barricades being set up for the weekend’s WWI Armistice parade and celebration, which will draw no less than President Donald Trump, among other world leaders. Security will be tight, but we will be gone. In fact, ironically, we will be in Germany for the Armistice centennial. Wonder what that will be like this weekend?
Finally back home, we started to plan our departure, now less than two days away. Plans for laundry, packing and transport to Gare de l’Est. Our first driver Nabil wanted 40 euros to take us to the train station, which I considered outrageous for a short morning run through town. We will take our chances on Uber come Friday morning.
Dinner for our second to last night in Paris was back to La Forge. I may have made a statement about lunch at ChantAirelle being the best meal I had had in Paris. I was wrong.
Our dinner of duck at La Forge was the best we have ever had in Paris. Creamy duck paté to start. Then Lynn’s duck confit fell off the bone (which many do not). But I had the duck cassoulet, a specialty of southern France. A sensuously tender duck breast was swimming in a crock pot filled with two different sausages and a chunk of duck liver, all of it cooked into a pile of white beans worthy of any your mama ever cooked. This was the best meal we had had in Paris.
We will return.