My first museum of the trip. Did I choose it for the avant-garde collections of modern and contemporary art? The innovative architecture? The sweeping view of Paris seen from the outdoor escalators? Well, no. It’s because it has free wifi. So, I and a bunch of other jet-setting twenty-somethings are all on our computers, although I hope that no one else is googling “Paris apartment how to turn on water.”
Well, also, I had a blind date. So, without future ado, the ways in which my date, “A.,” was like the Centre Pompidou:
- Both claim to be fluent in English, but have significant gaps. The Pompidou translates most, but not all, of its signage into English. This led to experiences such as looking at a sculpture that looked like something your plumber pulls out of your blocked drain and really needing to know what it was made out of, only to be confronted by a sign saying “crin.” Only now does my dictionary tell me that this means “horsehair,” leading me to wonder why A. claimed that he couldn’t translate that word, but that it was “some sort of textile.” Maybe he doesn’t understand French either?
- Both are hard to understand in general. A. tended to mutter, leading me to have to ask him to repeat pretty much everything he said, which makes for an awkward date. The Pompidou is aggressively anti-signage: you get the title and artist’s name, and that’s about it. Occasionally there are larger signs offering a quote from the artist, routinely having little to do with the work at hand.
- Both are foreign! Yes, I was out with an authentic French guy, at an authentically French museum. Guess what – they have different artists over here! I recognized only a few of the names. It’s funny how the who’s who of art changes by country. The prime benefit of this in the Pompidou is that you’ll see many more Middle Eastern, African, South American, etc., artists than in American museums.
- It’s hard for me to decide whether I don’t like them because they’re not likable, or if it’s just me: Ok, this is a bit of an exaggeration. A. was truly boring, with a weird habit of always covering up his mouth and nose with his hand, which led me to think that I was more smelly than I thought (a reasonable guess, given my failure to make the water work in my apartment) (but which was apparently untrue, since he’s subsequently asked me on another date). The Pompidou is a harder case: they seem to specialize in idea-based, politically active art which leaves me longing for something pretty.
So: final thoughts. The Pompidou is great for people-watching – mostly agitated families and impossibly hip youngsters. The art is great for either those who are globally up to the minute, art-world-wise, or those who love to make fun of modern art. And don’t forget the free wifi…
