Spotting Wild Art Beasts: Liseholes, Docubots, and Paintwalkers

Europe Travelogue 5

View from the top of the Sacre Couer.

I have been lucky enough to visit the Louvre before. I knew that the Mona Lisa room would be what we art fans call, “a feces fandango.” But I had no idea how bad the beasts had gotten.

Buckle up, my friends, as I take you on a safari so wild, so unprecedented, your eyeballs will be rolling around in your head like ping pong balls batted under the couch by a mischeivous cat.

We will talk about many art beasts today. But first? Liseholes.

Liseholes

(photographus lajocondus) - An art beast whose habitat is limited to the Mona Lisa room at the Louvre. Requires neither food nor water. Exists only to take and re-take photos of the Mona Lisa. Mating pairs select one another based on social media follower count.

When we were here before, for my 40th birthday a thousand years ago, the Liseholes were definitely in effect. But their population and aggressiveness have both grown many times over. A few of them snarled and snapped their jaws at my wife.

If the room were full of urine-drenched inflatable tube men sprinkling pee in every direction instead it might be an improvement.

There are museum staff standing nearby, ostensibly to protect some semblance of order, but they seem content to allow the Liseholes to shove, snap, post, and re-post.

Luckily, the Liseholes habitat is limited to that one room and the art I wanted to see most was elsewhere. I was able to enjoy those masterworks in relative peace. But first, I had to pay my respects to the master himself, the Badger of the Batignolles, Édouard Manet.

Manet is buried in Passy cemetery, near the Trocadéro. He shares his grave site with his wife, Suzanne née Leenhoff, his brother, Eugène, and Eugène’s wife Berthe Morisot. All of the above appeared in Manet’s work. Berthe and Eugène were both painters too.

So. Why do I like him so much? Lots of reasons. I like his art, he was a pivotal figure at an important time, and as far as I can tell, he was a stand-up guy. There is an unbeleivably good book about Manet called “The Judgement of Paris,” by Ross King. I can’t recommend it enough.

Luckily for me, the Musée d'Orsay was doing a special Manet/Degas exhibition while we were in town. The only thing I hadn’t counted on, having never seen them in the wild before, were the Docubots.

Docubots

(photographus shittyarchivus) - Distinguish themselves by systematically taking a photo of each piece of art, then the corresponding wall text, and moving on to the next work of art. Becomes enraged if anyone mentions that the museum already produced a catalog with hi-res photos which is for sale in the gift shop. Eats museum maps noisily. Nests in tour bus garages.

Photo by Tim Wildsmith on Unsplash

While the feces fandango at the Louvre was bewildering, it was almost more bizarre to find docubots at Musée d'Orsay. I understand taking a photo of a work particularly significant for some reason, e.g., you want to make fun of its nipples, but every… single… one?

I assume these people also book a lane at a bowling alley and then walk, businesslike, down to the end of the lane and one-by-one lay each pin down on its side. Then they drive to their favorite restaurant, photograph the menu, and cook their entree themselves, badly, in the parking lot over a hot plate.

Those headaches aside, we made it, at last, to see this. Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe, a.k.a. Luncheon on the Grass. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to get to see it again in person especially after looking at it every day as my phone lock screen.

Not as special as looking at my wife every day, but still great.

The next day we took in Musée de l'Orangerie, the temple to Monet featuring two rooms of the massive Water Lilies. Here we faced yet a third species of art beast: the paintwalkers.

Paintwalkers

(photographus dreamdiddlicus) - Preys on friends and family. Stikes a pose near large works of art appearing to be on the point of walking, dreamlike, into the painting then forces its prey to take a photograph. Selects mate based on remaining battery level.

Again, I don’t know what purpose this serves. But there’s something about this particular pose, looking longingly at the painting with one knee bent and heel raised, that makes it a must-do. It’s close to a contrapposto pose but without the exaggerated shoulder/hip angles.

I guess somewhere in these people’s lives there’s a potential romantic partner or business associate who is unsure about pairing up with them but, upon seeing them apparently about to walk into a Monet, gets more interested. It makes sense. Inter-dimensional travel could be a huge advantage.

I have to say that, in person, the Water Lilies surprised me. I was interested already but being able to look at each massive work from up close and far away really got me. That ol’ Monet knew a few things.

Becoming the Beast

We headed out of Paris to get a look at Monet’s house, gardens, and studio in Giverny. I especially wanted to see the studio with its movable shades so the master could control the light for his paintings. His studio is now the gift shop but you can see the shades overhead.

A lot of people will tell you that Giverny is crowded and that the experience would be better if the people who run it would limit access a little more. I can see their point.

But it’s still pretty cool to see the gardens and studio. And if you wait until the right moment you can still get your very own Water Lillies style photo without too many dang humans cluttering it up by trying to take the very same photo. Those bastards!

Thanks for reading. I hope you’re well out there. A special and most beastly thanks to those of you who have shared my stuff with other folks and/or subscribed.

If you’ve encountered these beasts in the wild or have any further information on their habits I’d love to hear about it.