Today was a day of tidying and going-over-again and reading. Maxime borrowed the canonical book on lasers from the library (at least, I think it's the canonical book) and I've been reading the introductory chapter. I got the transmission (transmittance?) curve to match pretty well with the peaks of the spectrum, though I just fudged things to get there. In my defense, I didn't know that it would work out before I fudged it...Yeah, not much. We're still waiting to install the new lens to change the pump spot size. A few of the other interns finished their internships today and left. I hadn't ever really talked to them, but was in the group when the farewell-ing and shaking of hands and wishing of good luck took place. I'm not quite sure of the customs, whether it's because I'm female or just didn't go for a handshake quickly enough, but I suddenly learned how to execute the French tradition of cheek-kissing. It turns out it's actually just a cheek-brush on either side, with an audible air-kiss. Hopefully I don't and won't offend anyone by not being sure when it's expected.
Well, I can't think of much more to report from work today. Sorry that it's been a slow week, Steve, if you are reading this. On the bright side (I think), I've almost filled up a whole lab notebook and will need to ask for another one in the next few days.
It's Thursday! And that means it was Musée d'Orsay day. To begin, I went through the statue collection on the ground floor. Marble statues (and bronze to a slightly lesser extent) stagger me. I think there are two main aspects to my admiration of them: firstly, the incredible skill needed to shape a block of stone into a flawless image of a human being, into flowing draperies and delicate braids, into embroidery on a dress; and secondly, the arresting quality of a well-executed pose. Moments of action: throwing, leaping, stabbing, spinning thread, clasping hands - these statues are poised in the midst of motion, caught mid-gesture so that it's almost painful not to see them complete it, like the cadence of a song cut short. I expect the motion to continue, and the immobility of the medium contrasted with the dynamic subject can make for a rather spine-chilling tension. (Yes, I sound pretentious. Do your worst and say I sound like an art critic. I still can't come up with better words for the emotions I feel when looking at some of these statues.) Some of the more tranquil pieces can also captivate me with the intimacy of the figure portrayed, the way the sandal slips carelessly from the foot as the toes flex upwards, the ease in the fingers resting on the chair-arm, the slip of a lock of hair from the elaborately-carved braids. The statues then strike me as individuals, and I want to take their hands, or tuck the stray lock of hair back behind their ears. But I can't, and they are frozen forever in their careless-moments. Statues are paradoxical things indeed.
Then it was time for a stroll through the Van Gogh rooms. I was pleased to find the painting which, for some reason, I always refer to in my head as "the toad-church." Later I toured almost the whole left side of the ground floor, thoroughly enjoying myself. Hébert turns out to be a painter I like (this one especially) and there are just a lot of beautiful paintings. I couldn't remember all of the artists' names, unfortunately. I quite liked this portrait of Madame Rimsky-Korsakov, the aunt of the composer who wrote the trombone concerto I practiced for quite a while in high school. It's a good museum.
And of course I capped off the evening with a visit to the Impressionists gallery. I'm very glad that I have the chance to see it several times, rather than rushing and trying to take in everything at once. I browsed through in a leisurely manner, deepening my appreciation for Sisely and Pissarro this time around. There was one minor tragedy: one of my very favorite Renoir paintings has been removed from the gallery! I don't know why. They put up a different one in its place. At least I got to see it last time, and the time before that. By the time I left the museum, I was filled to the brim with beauty. Or almost filled - one of the magical things about visiting these museums in the evenings is that they close at 9:30 pm, meaning that patrons are treated to superb sunsets upon exiting. I went from figuratively stepping inside the paintings to literally walking through a scene that could have been a painting. As I made my way back to the Tuileries metro stop, I saw Rubens in the clouds, Monet in the light in the waves of the Seine, and Toulouse-Lautrec in the Tuileries carnival. Filled to the brim.
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