Caravaggio! Je viens!

​“Woke like this”
... and no it ain’t pretty LOL
Must’ve been tired... went to bed at 10pm and slept til 1pm...!
French milk is delicious!
Cafe creme, hot bath, and then...
“Musée du Louvre, je viens!”
Here I come Louvre!

I can read French pretty well (at least a menu LOL) and when I listen to my translator app, I can mimic it “tres bien”. 
The waiter did not scoff; he understood everything I said, even questions and declarations about my first day in Paris “Mi premier jour a Paris, et super!”

I hope all your kids are taking Latin:  my years of Latin have served me well in Europe: I have easily learned Spanish (Spain/Tex-Mex, Mexico), French, and Italian, though Portuguese was harder!  The indententations of language learned in HS and Uni remain as I learned Hangeul (Korean) and now Potonghua (Mandarin)!

Yes, yes, yes... now to the subject of this post: Caravaggio!  Ah, sigh.  I fell in love with the works of Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio during my first art appreciation class at Uni.  That simple, basic class opened doors of creativity: I began to paint with oils, experiment with color and drawing, and began to read, read, read (oh, surprise) about the “great” artists.  My favorite, out of many rococco-stylists became MMC; his utilisation of darkness, made keen by light (though others say it the other way around), entranced me.  I can stare for an hour at his work; seeking what hides in each refraction and reflection, each painted eye screams in silence its secrets to me, each drop of water - or blood - claims from me its individual recognition of existence, and all the chiaroscuro envelops me heart.  I have yet to understand why and how a painting can bring me to tears—yes, there is the surface understanding of beauty and awe at talent. but the deeper resonance of an artist’s soul connecting to mine is what I cannot fathom, centuries-dead artists, at that.  

Retracing my steps back to Art 101 (haha), I am viewing for the first time, the work of MMC, and I am in love with chiaroscuro and the force of his hand.  Through the decades, I have seen his followers at the Chicago Museum of Art, print versions inside magazines... but the real-thing? The work of his very hands? YES!  First, St. Francis of Assisi in Ecstacy at the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford, CT; at the Uffizi in Firenze, Italia: Medusa, and The Sacrifice of Isaac, and Bacchus; and years later—right under my nose, at the Kimbell in Ft. Worth, TX!!--The Cardsharps!  I may have passed several of his works at The Met in NYC, but that would have been prior to my knowledge of him, having visited while still in Uni.  And now, not a grand finale by any means, but grand in all respects, I will see yet another MMC at Musee deu Louvre! OMG, I am finally visiting the Louvre!  And I will stand in front of The Fortune Teller!  In fact, I will stop writing this and go now!

Did I mention I am so grateful to be in Paris, to visit the Louvre, to visit Victor Hugo’s apartment... to...to...to...
To live this life! Merci!
Je suis reconnaissant de vivre cette vie!