Sunny in Paris

This week was filled with rain and cold--the Parisians all had their jackets and heavy sweaters on. Mon dieu! My Midwestern loved ones are being baked in a Chicago heat wave so I couldn't complain to them... but I confess I spent the early part of the week huddled under a comforter with my fuzzy socks on, reading novels and watching French TV. I didn't bring any foul weather gear and certainly no coat or jacket, so I decided to lay low.

But yesterday (Wednesday) the sun came out and so I ventured forth. The Metro is plastered with advertising for an exhibit for Willy Ronis and I've had that on my list since I arrived. Willy Ronis is the famed French photographer best known (at least in the U.S.) for his photo of an exhuberant little French boy running down the street holding a baguette of bread. I had to do some research because I had never heard of the "museum" where the show is being held--it's at "Monnaie de Paris" which is, essentially, the Paris mint. The building, across the Seine from the Louvre, is part industry, part social conscience and part musuem.

What it isn't is air-conditioned, and the rooms were packed. Thank goodness I have my "Woman of a Certain Age" fan that I whipped out to get through room after room of stifling air. For once, the Parisian women were jealous of ME. The exhibit honored the 100-year mark of M. Ronis' birth--he died last year before he could see this wonderful collection.

His photos capture the labor movement in Paris in the 40s, his travels to Holland, Germany and England, and unforgettable moments in Paris's history right up to 2000. The reflection of light on cobblestones at night, lit by a streetlamp; the creamy softness of a woman's skin; the harshness of factory work with miles and miles of cotten being woven--all these photos gave me nostalgia for a time I never experienced and places I've never seen. And isn't that the role of the artist? To transport us?

This led me to think about the wonder of being an artist. What an honor! And what a joy, to be able to wake up every morning with the "job description" of capturing life as it is, as you see it, as you want others to see it. Whether it's photography or painting or writing, or any other genre, the artist has the responsibility of capturing some kind of truth. But I know that life as an artist is not without its risks. Being an artist takes great courage... and great faith.

And it doesn't hurt to have an agent.