Happy Couple Statues in Paris
The Body Language of Love
I have been on a sculpture jag recently, looking at Paris’ public statues. Mostly this is because the pandemic has made me shy of museums, but also because the weather is lovely in April, and so as I flaneur through the city, I regularly stumble upon amazing works of sculpture on public display. And, while it is not polite to stare at people, let alone walk right up to them and take their pictures, this behavior is perfectly fine with statues.
When I write about statues, I like to learn about their stories. More often than not, the myths that inspired such graceful, evocative works of art are horrific tales of betrayal, murder, and revenge! I fear I may have traumatized some of my readers. Will you every again look at a chunk of marble without a twitch or tremor? Alors, to rectify this, I wanted to share with you, as my final post from Paris before moving on to Italy, some of my favorite Paris statues of happy couples.
What I find most fascinating in statues that depict couples is the way the space between them expresses so much about their relationship. How they orient their arms, torsos, legs, the tilt of their head conveys a sense of movement, intention, feeling. In this way, a well-made statue can sometimes seem more real than actual human beings, just like a beautiful “still life” vase of sunflowers by Van Gogh seems more breathtaking that actual flowers in a pot.
The Two Trees: I’d like to start with a this sweet and simple couple kissing on an island in the Bois de Boulogne. Situated between two trees at the water’s edge, it would be easy to miss them altogether as you stroll along the shore. Boaters like to paddle close for a better look at the couple. The bronze pair are tall and willowy, and barely brush together as they kiss. Even from across the water you can see how tenderly they hold each other, his hands on her shoulders, hers on his waist.
Next, I discovered a magnificent cluster of four couple statues on the strip of park, Esplanade Gaston Monnerville, that runs south from the Jardin du Luxembourg. Because it is just a little bit out of the way from the main garden, I’d never actually walked through it before this April. I was totally captivated by the glowing white, larger than-life marble couples against the backdrop of new green leaves. Each statue is named for a time of day — Dawn, Day, Twilight, Night — and depicts, rather playfully, relations between a man at a woman at that time of day. Interestingly, each sculpture is by a different artist, yet they fit together so perfectly as a set:
- Dawn. She is obviously a morning person, ready to take on the day! He…really wants his morning coffee!
2. Day. I love how hungrily this man with his slingshot gulps from the woman’s water jug. He pulls her hip into him with his free hand, suggesting they are more than just friends. She seems pretty matter of fact about it, as if quenching his thirst is all about hydration for her…at least in the middle of the day.
3. Twilight. This one’s my favorite. He’s resting on his plow; she’s still got a sickle in her hand. A hard day’s work in the field is just done and they are tired, but lean into each other in a way that conveys to me they are totally relaxed in one another’s company. I love her elbow on his knee, her head tilted back. But I will say, his thoughts seem far away, on the horizon. Is he thinking about a better life for them, or just annoyed that there’s a pigeon on his head?
4. Night. He seems to have just arrived home…or perhaps it is she who has been out (he is, after all, only wearing a cape). In any event, she’s delighted to see him, engaging in a little game of “peekaboo” to get his attention. Their faces are so close, the intimacy of her intention is unmistakeable.
Parc Monceau is an extravagant “English Garden” in a rather upscale, residential part of town. It’s got fake Greek ruins, pony rides, a little Chinese bridge, and several very sweet couple statues. I’m only going to feature my favorite two of them, which Teresa and I discovered in a recent stroll. The first struck me as absolutely hilariously. I wanted to title it: “Mansplaining”:
She really looks as if she has had enough of this older man lecturing to her, looking down from his perch on the rock. Her eyes gaze off into the distance, and her hands seem to be shredding something. In fact, this is a statue of the French opera composer and professor of the Conservatoire de Paris, Ambroise Thomas. So, perhaps this young woman is just one of many who got to listen to him go on and on about music in the course of his long career. (“Lucky Me!” as Teresa would say).
When Teresa and I first set my eyes on this next statue in Parc Monceau, below, we agreed it should be titled, “Honey, you promised to fix the toilet today!” The woman looks like she’s doing her best to be patient, but now it can’t wait any longer. He looks like he’s resigned, but would rather do anything else in the world. Look at his legs moving away from the direction in she’s guiding him towards! Well, perhaps we were projecting? The statue is actually Alfred Musset and the Muse. It is based on the author’s poem, in which the Muse attempts to pursuade Musset to write. But hey, I’ve been there too, Alfred, and when words turn to mush on my page, sometimes I would rather go fix and the toilet.
Just inside the front gates of the Jardin des Plantes on a massive pedestal stands a formidable statue of Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744–1829), the great French naturalist who published first coherent and solidly supported theory of evolution in 1800. Fifty years later, Charles Darwin published The Origin of Species, promoting the theory of Natural Selection as the driving force of evolution, which basically blew Lamarck’s version out of the water (read more about it in this excellent article, here). The front of his statue proclaims Lamarck to be the “Founder of the Doctrone of Evolution.” On the back of the pedestal is a smaller bronze relief statue of a woman, “Posterity,” with her hand lightly, consolingly, on Lamarck’s shoulder:
The plaque reads: “La postérité vous admirera, Elle vous vengera, mon père.” Translation: “Posterity will admire you, It will avenge you, my father.” What I love about this is expression on his face as he looks up at her. Look at his knees together, his hands on his lap like a school boy at last receiving some praise from the schoolmarm!
This final statue might be more familiar to you in it’s marble form. It is Rodin’s The Kiss. The original is on display at the Rodin Museum in Paris. This one sits comfortably in front of the Orangerie in the Jarin des Tulieries. It almost feels as if these two figures are alive, doesn’t it? You feel her pull him towards her as they embrace. In fact, their lips are not quite touching. This is the burning instant just before the actual kiss. See also how the line of her leg runs over top of his. In some places their two bodies actually merge.
Donc, I hope I have filled your heads with lovely images of love and care, passion and playfulness when you contemplate Paris in the spring. Maybe you can think about the many ways your body moves in physical space in the dance of relationship with those you care about. Savor these touches, these gestures, with all your heart.
