Nicole Tour 2 Paris Art Nouveau

Dear Everyone,

I was so cross with myself for having run out of camera batteries yesterday, that I went back again today, with extra, just in case!

This time, though, I began at 41, rue Chardon Lagache. This was the second building Guimard built for his neighbour Louis Jassédé (others in av. Versailles and rue Lancret), the grocery wholesaler. It dates 1893 and Art Nouveau, so my book says, was in its very early days. The house has a very busy facade, with all sorts of things going on - different window shapes, both stone, brick and ceramic and a mass of colour. It was the metal and ironwork, though, that quickly became Guimard's unmistakable style.

The villa was conceived as a country house and it definitely has an escapism sense about it with its varnished tiles and ridged roof. Vegetable motifs decorate the facade above and below the windows. Made by Muller, my book says, they were either in terracotta, enamelled or not, or of sandstone. It was the first time, in this villa, that Guimard designed the furniture himself.

Guimard's signature is on show for all and sundry to see but - and this is very rare, apparently - the architect also allowed that of the ceramist. Nice bloke, that Guimard.

From here, I retraced my steps back along rue T. Gauthier, up rue Molitor and took a left into rue Boileau just so I could pause a moment at number 34, Hotel Roszé. Dating from 1891, when Guimard had only been studying at the Ecole des Beaux Arts for two years, he was commissioned to build this lovely townhouse that is almost impossible to see from the road in summer because of the berserk wisteria. My book says it's not as classic as it first appears - sans blague! How would I know as it didn't appear at all, hidden behind all that foliage! The gate separating the garden from the road is cast iron, not at all common for rue Boileau. If one becomes a contortionist (I did try), you can make out red and ochre bricks with a few touches of blue. The ceramics, glasswork and the garden were all done by Guimard himself.

Next stop, 85, rue de La Fontaine. The architect, Ernest Herscher, had this erected in 1905. Cast iron and animal decorations are all over the place - snails, lizards and butterflies to be beheld, even from a distance. The top floor has a wonderful balcony and terrace, held up by long 'stems'. It's really a very classical building full of surprises - all you have to do is look up! But you're in the 16è! Look out for posh dog poop as your nose is way up there admiring the heavens!

A detour to av. Mozart to visit 122 again and check out 2, villa Flore just opposite on the same side of the road (also known as 120, av. Mozart - what a complicated address!). I so want to like Hotel Guimard, but I just can't. It's grimy and in need of some serious tender loving care. I wonder who owns it now? I wonder, equally, whether anyone actually loves it, for it must be worth a packet, not just for the address but also for the history. Sadly, it just looks like a spooky, haunted kind of house, perfect for Cruella D'Evil.

120 av. Mozart and 2, villa Flore was oneofthe last to be built by Guimard. Between 1924-7, Art Nouveau was giving way to 'modernist' art (don't be impressed - I'm just repeating what I read!). verticality was king of the road and of this building, too. Only a few bricks appear here and there, and as for Guimard's usual bow windows, they only show up on the 3rd and 4th floors. On the very top floors, ballustrades in cast iron mark out the balconies. The side of the building on villa Flore has little interest but for the odd jutting out of a round bay window or balcony. The more daring, old signs of Guimard are visible on the av. Mozart facade - lightly coloured brick, varied pink tones, decorated motifs in ceramic and stone...

I left av. Mozart and hoofed it along rue de La Fontaine, falling upon Hotel Mezzara at number 60. It's a very strange looking townhouse, almost trogolodite in appearance, built in 1910 and ordered by Guimard's friend, Paul Mazzara. he was of Venetian origin and a specialist in material and lace. My book says that this house qualifies as 'classic' though that throws me completely, since to my ignorant eye, it's anything but. It was both home and office to Mazzera. A pretty terrace halfway up the house makes it look somewhat airy and spacious, if its possible for a facade to look 'spacious' (yes, it's true, I'm just making this up as I go along, hoping to look intelligent!). The entry gate has bramble motifs and is gorgeous. One can visit the inside because the property is owned by the state. Today, it is home to the Ministere de l'Education Nationale.

My guidebook says the following: "Inside is a masterpiece of grace and harmony: the surprising glass roof which diffuses daylight that is filtered through the glass was designed to light up the main room, where Mezzera's models would be displayed."

So, another little visit we'll have to do when you come to Paris next time.

I fell upon the next gem quite by accident. As I crossed a side street and looked down it, I thought 'that looks like Guimard' and.... it was. 11, rue François Millet. This is a small building, by Guimard standards and it seems that by the time he designed it, he'd mellowed a bit. 11, rue F. Millet is one of reserved elegance and very Paris 16è, ma chérie. The windows are airy and large, the bays are curvacious...but the Guimard signs are there nonetheless, as always, in the ironwork of the balconies, the entrance and the door handle. I stood in front of it for quite some time for it was the first Guimard house that didn't make me feel uncomfortable.

On to rue Agar. In 1911, Léon Nozal, an industrialist friend of Guimard's, ordered a project of Pharaonic proportions - to build thirteen buildings in the road that was at the time rue Moderne. Six were built by Guimard and despite the tempered down tone, the cast ironwork gives them away as his.

It's a wonderful feat of work and craftsmanship. Even the drainpipe is superb, finely sculpted to make the very nicest waste pipe I've ever seen! The balcony supports were crafted by  Saint-Dizier, designed by Guimard. He also personally designed the numbers and road name signs, as he often did for the streets in which his buildings were located.

Incidentally, the street was originally called rue Moderne and not rue Agar in honour of an actress Marie-Léonide Charvin (1832-1891), who went down in history under the pseudonym of Agar - the street was thus renamed. The architect carved her portrait into the stone as well as a dedication which reads

"A la tragédienne Agar, qui habita Auteuil et Passy de 1870 à 1880."

My 'final resting place' of the day, so to speak, was where it all began yesterday - Castel Béranger. My photos had been so lousy that I was determined to get more - and try to get inside this time! Well, I got closer to the main door to the apartments anyway. Renovation is underway but the concierge is happy to show you what's being done. There's a sign  in the entrance detailing work done and in view. This building, whether you like it or not, is just hypnotising. All those seahorses (or hybrid monsters from Alien, if you prefer) just had me transfixed. And yet, there are areas of such softness, oldy-worldiness almost, that one wonders if the monsters were just a dream. This time, the side road was open and down I scuttled to take more pix than a Japanese tourist with a tic! I just couldn't get enough of it. I love this building. Not as architecture, I don't think, but as fun. Or is that what architecture is all about? Making you FEEL something, kidnapping your soul for a fraction of a second, making your heart stop, or slow down, or dance the tango? Whatever it is, this building has got under my skin. And I love it.

Thank you for being an inspiration, my dear Nicole.

Next time...Art Deco!

Lots of love

Sarah xoxoxox

Comments

[sairj]

Yes, you're right of course...but who is it to say whether something stands up to be counted or not, is what I mean. I guess architecture, paintings, and kind of art is subjective to the individual. Anything that makes my heart sing is art - even a bown of salata de vinete to me is art...maybe I'm just easy to please. But a pois chiche in the middle of an empty canvas isn't art. It's a pois chiche in the middle of an empty canvas. Yes, the SocGen Tower...I know the one you mean - we both taught in it, I think...it doesn't ring my bell but I know exactly what you mean. It shouts. It makes a statement. I think architecture, to me, is simply, apart from doing what it does to my heart, anything that tells a story, so even if I don't like it (like 122 av MOzart), I can nevertheless hang on to a story that makes my heart sing anyway...emotional claptrap!! But that's my grain! Yes, chat soon! Delta interview today via skype! Spare me a thought! Hope you're okay. Thinkiing of your back in this humidity. Til soon, Little Me and thanks for writing!

[Little Me]

I know that was a rhetorical question from you there but I'll give my tuppence worth. I think a building has architectural value whenever it has something, some small or major detail, which helps it stand out from any other building. When it shows up its individuality. So any criteria can be used as from then to taste, well that is subjective. I think it is like any other art, ot has to have something in it from the artist. Look at La Defense for an example of what I mean. Some of the buildings up there are really nameless identityless office blocks. But then you look at the Bouygues tower, or I think it was built by them but occupied by SocGen for a stunning example of modern architecture - a building which stands up to be counted and shouts out, hey, look at me, I'm an individual. I feel like I'm rambling but hope you see what I am trying to say.
Take care and speak soon