Art historians often complain about over-restoration of artworks. Similarly to when my mother did spring cleaning during my first year in college and threw everything in my closet into the washing machine, leading to ruined vintage satin dresses and a potent hint that maybe I shouldn’t regard it as “my” closet anymore, many artifacts can’t take too much cleaning and restoration before they lose something essential.
Thus, Monet’s house and gardens in the little village of Giverny have been so re-planted, re-painted, re-upholstered, and re-built that I had no idea what was original and what was simulated. Visiting the house is like walking around on a not-too-high-budget movie set – Whose Water? Whose Lilies? The Claude Monet Story on Lifetime. Especially ludicrous are the terrible, fading reproductions of his paintings, which seem to have been made by laminating some ink-jet printing. The greatest artistic interest is in Monet’s collection of Japanese prints, which are plastered all over the house in cheap Ikea frames without any indication of their original locations.
But, despite my grumpiness about the house, I still recommend the trip (an easy train ride from Paris) if you like gardens. I bear no illusions that the gardens as they currently are bear much resemblance to how Monet saw them, but man are they pretty. It’s like a drawn-out flowergasm out there, leading to much screaming of “wook at these wittle blossoms!” on my part.
P.S.: I love you, Mom!
