Musée Rodin: Maison

The first museum I ever visited in Paris was the Musée Rodin. Why? I am not really sure...perhaps it was because the location was close to my hotel and at the time I was not really up to tackle the Louvre. I checked my guide book and it said favorable things about the former residence of Auguste Rodin, but aren't all guide books favorable about their subjects? It also mentioned a beautiful garden. I decided to give it a look. Now, I am not a philistine in regards to art. I knew all too well who Rodin was. Growing up he was one of the omnipresent "old-masters", along with Rembrant, Michelangelo and El Greco, who's work was copied and placed in many a bargin bin and home decor department at K-Mart and in the homes of everyday art afficianados. For me Rodin's work was too round and too sensual. It was not to be taken seriously because liking it came too easy. It appealed to the basic instinct. Rodin is all about sex. Taking and having. In Rodin sculptures, women morphed from clouds, earth, even air. They were created and seemingly the gift to a waiting male figure. My feminist upbringing had some qualms with Rodin's work. So, here I was standing in front of this institution of sensuality and embarking on a visit I was unsure about, but willing to follow through. Upon entering I was taken by the light. It's filtered and bounced off dusty mirrors whose silver foils spoke of endless gazing. The collection is not only of the work of Auguste Rodin, but also of his contemporary, former student and lover Camille Claudel, as well as the works of other artists whom Rodin admired. Van Goghs co-exist with Ancient Roman torsos. Chinese dieties and Egyptian busts are displayed amongst Japanese Noh masks and Ancient Greek vases. But in the end, it really is about the master works of Rodin that captured my attention and have held it since. I am a reluctant admirer, I suppose. I never think of Rodin when asked about my favorite artists and even when seeing his work in other collections, it never resonates with me as it does in the Musée Rodin. This place is a part of it's origins and genesis of much of his most famous works. It is the place, just as much, or in my opinion more, as the work. The works acts as ghosts living out a narrative. The desires, the fears, the loves and the power of Auguste Rodin play out in this place of white stone and cracked grandure. After that first visit I was taken by how sensitive Rodin was. Through his imposing persona, he manages to be posseser and possesion at the same time. I could see his thoughts in the work and his willingness to be taken over by them. He is the woman and the man in his work. He is Icarus and Balzac. He is The Thinker and The Kiss.

On that first visit the garden was closed because a huge tent was structured on the lawn. It turned out to be for a Tom Ford era YSL runway show. He showed at the Musée Rodin often and sited it as a favorite place in Paris. On today's visit the garden was in full bloom, perhaps the last of the season. The roses were bright and the hydrangeas were in greens and white. The house was hit with a golden light, a light that only exists in Paris. I walked the garden and took more photos. I thought of other visits in the past, this must have been my 4th and with the exception of a new entrance, some sprucing up in the museum and the removal of some paintings, nothing much has changed. The Musée Rodin is a place locked in time. It is Art Nouveau and Impressionism. It is the time of candle light and hushed words in far off rooms. It is the love and life of beauty for the sake of beauty. It is where desire manifests itself and warms you in it's embrace.