Ontogenesis; A Long Trip Ahead...

Ontogenesis - Scene II - Levalet - Gare Saint-Lazare - Paris 

I can’t believe that these photos from Gare Saint-Lazare train station Paris, only date back to late February, and yet so much has changed worldwide since then. It is now clear that mankind has set off on a crazed voyage of change and yet no one knows what our destination is to be, when this journey will end, and how we will have evolved by that time. 

Scene I - Ontogenesis - Levalet

The title of Levalet’s large collage – Ontogenesis - seems strangely portentous now. According to one dictionary definition, this is the development of an individual organism or anatomical or behavioural feature from the earliest stage to maturity. Indeed, just as the virus itself evolves over time, pushing forward in its inexorable path, biologically and geographically it has gradually yet relentlessly altered everything in the fabric of human life. In the same manner that this infectious disease has the capacity to shut down vital bodily functions, the fight against it has led to the lockdown of every community and activity therein. The entire world - directly or indirectly - has entered an eery period without precedence in modern times, one merely hinted at in the disaster-and-doom film genre. I can’t help but think back to the terrifying1970’s BBC series Survivors that marked me as a child. I wonder what long-lasting effect our present situation will have on today’s children, as they actually live through this nightmare scenario on every level, with or without direct health issues ? 

Scene III

Whatever happens as spring turns to summer, with the passing of the weeks and months and we understand more of the nature of this disease, we will surely learn more of ourselves, as individuals, and as collective groups and finally civilisations as a whole. This is a journey, and I hope that it can be a process of metamorphosis, towards the better.

Detail - Scene II

Levalet’s work in the station follows similar themes to the many others that decorate Paris, and numerous provincial towns and cities in France and beyond. They are a clever harmony of art and urban surface - offering a witty trompe-l’œil which is underlined by the choice of title. Here at Gare Saint-Lazare a traveller is represented in a series of Indian ink collages, set out over three panels, leading towards the Parisian streets beyond. As we descend the escalator, the character seems to emerge from his suitcase, gather his hat and jacket before tumbling down head-first, to plunge into the suitcase once again. This cyclical movement is often a key feature in Levalet, progress in statis or statis in progress… Ontogenenis is part of a street art display with other artists from Quai 36 - a group that has given itself the mission to transfigure public spaces in order to make art accessible to all. Started in 2015, Quai 36 initially set out to enhance the often dreary experience of the 700,000 daily commuters who trudged along the platforms and concourse of one of the largest stations in Europe - the Gare du Nord - but it has since spread further afield.

Scene II - detail

At the top of the escalators by the tumbling traveller, in one of the corners of the main station is seated a postman. Enthroned on a huge pile of snailmail sacks, all piled on two functioning La Poste letter boxes, is the protagonist of the Bureau de Plaintes, discretely reading one of many complaints that will surely engulf him. He already seems to have been forgotten by most of the passers-by in the station, assuming he and his 2-dimensional friends had been noticed in the first place…

Bureau de Plaintes - Levalet

As I had trouble tracking down the third Levalet piece at Gare Saint-Lazare, I asked several employees of the cafés and stores in the concourse if they could indicate its whereabouts. Curiously, they had never seen or heard anything of Levalet’s art, which struck me as sad and yet disappointingly familiar since most people rarely lift their eyes long enough from their chosen screen to notice anything these days. By deduction, I went down to the platforms and through the ticket gates, in order to find Prendre de l’Hauteur. And there it was – a suited figure, clambering up one of the metal pillars, so unassuming yet intent in his movement that no one paid him any attention either… 

Prendre de l'Hauteur - Levalet

Coronavirus has made us and our human endeavours seem small and ineffective. We have been humbled by the ravages of a global conflict in which we all share a common enemy – there is no ‘them and us’ in today’s war. Just us humans against an invisible, silent adversary that has cast a long shadow over our civilized lives. Our foe is a non-sentient entity, one which is not driven by greed, hatred or desire. It has made us all acknowledge its presence and power and in so doing, made us bow down to the might of Nature itself. Confinement has forced the majority of us to quite literally stop and take stock of ourselves, our lives and our loves. Will this period of enforced respite from all our humdrum activities mean that we too may metamorphose in its aftermath ? Will we give more time to the things that we have let pass us by, as we have scurried on, short-sightedly chasing after our latest goal or deadline ? Will we realise that the pre-Coronavirus obligations in our lives - along with our lifestyle choices - had largely contamined us with equally insidious illnesses? The list of our human failings would assume biblical proportions... 

We were not in charge of our (largely privileged) lives, but had been belittled by them, reduced to drone status and it has taken the tragic impact of this disease to open our eyes to this. Don’t even let me get started on what we have done to our planet and all living creatures therein. Nobody willed this situation, but something good must emerge from it, and a reality check would be as good a start as any in this latest human journey. We are just travellers that come with a formidable amount of excess baggage.

Consigne à vie  - 1985 - Arman

A Chateau in the Woods...

With a few days off work, the warmer, albeit windy weather led me on a walk in the wilderness to track down the remains of a chateau in the woods. Le château de Toussicourt was one of seven grandiose edifices around the town of Hermonville, of which few have survived to the present day. 

Whether grand or minimal, their vestiges offer a glimpse of very different pasts, fates and fortunes…

Whilst I anticipated difficulty locating the elusive Toussicourt, in fact the site turned out to be clearly – even blatantly - visible from the road. However, as the domain was not indicated by any signs, I assumed the chateau must surely be set in the heart of the woods, far from the intrusions of the 21st century.

View from the main access route - front of the chateau grounds with wild boar prints in the mud.

The unwelcome attentions of ramblers and urbex-ers are naturally discouraged, due to the standard hazard risks posed by game hunting, dangerous masonry and of course for trespassing issues. 

As a result, I set off for the hills and finally came across the high stone wall flanking the side of the grounds, complete with a grand gate –chained up - that led tantalisingly onto the land. This reminded me of The Secret Garden, with all the anticipation of what lay beyond the ivy-covered entrances and the frustration of not gaining access to it. 

As I was not prepared to break into the grounds, I just wandered further along the lane, feeling a bit disappointed. I was very surprised to find a very wide clearing at the back of this whole area and could barely contain excitement that transported me back to childhood. I would have loved to have made such discoveries back then! 

Brick walls, in varying degrees of ruin, still remain of the chateau outbuildings. Brambles, thickets and trees of all shapes and sizes have taken over the land, whilst ivy has grown up and over all the building vestiges. I can imagine this could be quite dangerous to visit, especially for any kind of activity other than simple observation and would be damaging and disrespectful for the grounds too and all that they represent. 

Atmospheric visions of window openings and doorways have been created, all leading nowhere, offering no views but suggesting numerous secrets and stories that are now buried in the rubble and undergrowth. 

I kept wishing I could be transported back to the 19th century, just to be able to experience its gentle past glory that can only be glimpsed at in the old black-and-white photographs that always seem to lend themselves to flights of imagination. 

Working my way towards the front of the grounds, I came across where the former gardens must have lain, with their lawns stretching out. Wild boars now leave their mark ; cloven-hoof prints in the mud and upturned soil heaps creating half-hearted molehills and trenches. 

The land here is curiously devoid of trees, bushes or even saplings, which leaves you to assume it has been cleared regularly, and so preserving some spirit or essence. 

Of the body of the chateau itself, there are but a few vast metal girders that protude like massive bones from undergrowth where piles of bright green, mossy stones lay amassed.

Several distinct features of the cellars are still visible, and to the left, on what was once the side façade, stands a relatively well-preserved fortified structure that resembles a low turret, with its slit openings, and crenelated crown. 

This dates back to the chateau’s later years and can be identified on photographs prior to the First World War. The images that remain from the turn of the last century attest to the beauty of the Toussicourt domain and to the peace and tranquility of the pre-war period.

The grand façade once looked down towards an ornamental pond which has certainly been maintained over the years and now adds to the eerie emptiness of the grounds.

Reeds grow elegantly from the water and the stumps of truncated columns rise up at the top of the structure and beyond stands the main entrance to the chateau.

Situated at the end of what must have once been a majestic tree-lined alley, we can still imagine the original stature of Toussicourt. Today the fields that flank this path-way are plain, feature-less expanses of arable land.

A large wrought-iron gateway dominates the view, serving as a vanishing point, although it is now the chateau beyond it that has simply vanished.

The gates are not, of course, the original ones and perhaps nor is much of the stone wall that encircles the front of the domain in a curious manner. The impressive height and width of the gates, is not equalled by the walls. 

Although entry is in theory barred to the public, any visitor can simply step over the lowest parts of the stonework that offers no fortification whatsover. This seems to add to the strange atmosphere that reigns here, and highlights the void beyond, where the chateau had once stood. 

Nothing could give the slightest indication to the devastation that was soon to befall the region in 1914 with the onset of the Great War. Nor could it be imagined that the the chateau itself would be actively used during the hostilities, or that it too would be a casualty. 

Like so many individuals of the Lost Generation, the chateau would never see the end of this war ‘to end all wars’. 

As French chateaux go, Toussicourt was not, in fact, by any means 'ancient'. A chateau in the Louis XVI style was constructed at the end of the 18th century between Hermonville and Villers-Franqueux, at the behest of the head of the wealthy Cliquot family.

Indeed, the ‘Seigneur de Toussicourt et d'Hermonville’ had been ennobled by Louis XV at Versailles in 1765 and needed a country property worthy of his fine position – up until the French Revolution in 1789. 

The chateau entered into the possession of the Arnould family in the early 19th century, until finally becoming one of the homes of the baron Guillaume Krafft and in turn, his son Hugues. During this later (and final) stage of the chateau’s existence, the domain was built up in line with the aspirations of the family made rich through their contributions to the champagne trade with the Louis Roederer house. 

The park was made more elaborate still, with further gardens and the impressive central drive-way. Nothing could indicate that within a few years these same lawns would soon be used to accommodate French troups of French footsoldiers, who camped out in the grounds whilst the officers took refuge in the chateau itself. Like the château itself, few would survive the ravages of the war…

Hugues Krafft

Indeed, Hermonville – and therefore Toussicourt – was situated near the fort of Saint Thierry and the Front, with the strategic site of the village of Loivre and the fort of Brimont. Artillery was installed in the highest zones in the area, a centre for special espionnage and reconnaissance missions for pilots was inaugurated in Hermonville, and medical facilities and a cemetery were likewise set up.

Although it freed itself from enemy troups, the village was subject to assault and after the prolonged onslaught, the chateau was left in a pitiful state. The centre of the edifice appears to have been ripped apart by a direct bomb hit in 1917 and whilst it could perhaps have been restored to its former state, funds permitting, this did not happen.

Agence de presse Meurisse. Agence photographique

At the end of the hostilities, Hughes Krafft took the decision not to use the money given as a war indemnity to restore Toussicourt, preferring instead to use this sum to finance a project closer to his heart; the restoration of L’Hôtel le Vergeur. More about that another day….

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b90451647.item

From this period, the domain of Toussicourt went from a certain Mr Charbonneaux, to a farmer from the neighbouring village of Villers-Franqueux in 1958. Since the abandonned chateau was considered to represent a danger to the public, the remaining architectural structures were knocked down, leaving what we see today, and letting us imagine what its past had been.

Porte de Sèvres...

Along the impressive Boulevard Saint-Germain in the 6th arrondissement, stands an almost imperceptible vestige from the Parisian Belle Epoque. Indeed, as throngs of tourists and Parisiens alike stroll or scuttle in the Haussmannian landscape of the Rive Gauche, few may notice the beautiful ceramic plaque on the flank of a building that closes the discreet little Square Félix Desruelles, just next to the Eglise Saint-Germain.

St-Germain-des-Prés is not only thought to represent quintessential Parisian chic, with its luxury boutiques and restaurants but also to reflect the traditional literary and intellectual core of the city. Indeed, the famous cafés of Les Deux Magots, Brasserie Lipp, Café de Flore and Café Bonaparte are renowned as the former gathering points for great intellects, writers and artists such as Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Man Ray, Picasso, Léo Ferré or Georges Brassens from the 1920s. However the monumental Porte de Sèvres dates back to a moment in history when the whole world turned to the City of Light to observe its shining examples of modernity and audacity, promising an bright, illustrious future. Held in 1900, the Exposition Universelle de Paris was the fifth and last of its kind in the capital, following those of 1855, 1867, 1878 and 1889. It drew visitors in their droves over the months between its opening in April and closure in November. The first World Fair – the 1851 Great Exhibition of Crystal Palace, London – enticed a meagre 6 million visitors whilst the Exposition Universelle of 1900 announced over 50 million.

It is difficult to imagine how this vast, dazzling display must have appeared to a public, little accustomed to such sights. Immense pavillions and palaces were constructed in the very heart of the city, representing different nations, inventions and technologies. The sheer scale of the exposition and the scope of the other worlds and realities exhibited must have been incomprehensible to the average visitor. I wonder what they could have thought of the Palais de l’Electricité, with its spectacular arrays of sparks or the incredible moving pavement – ‘La rue de l’avenir’ ?


In our digitally-enhanced, device-enabled, over-stimulated universe, we would find it hard not to be underwhelmed, assuming that we had been able to lift our eyes from the 'precious' smartphones we clutch, Gollum-style, in the first place...








And yet in the Belle Epoque, the exposition would have been a breath-taking experience – an incredible assault to the senses and imagination.‘Projected motion pictures’ had been developed by the Lumière brothers in the very last years of the 19th century and were simply light years away from the cinema films that would later stun audiences with their images of the future.

Most of the immense edifices constructed for the Exposition were not built to last, yet that made them no less impressive and it should be remembered that the Eiffel Tower, erected for the 1889 Exposition, was in fact only intended as a ‘temporary’ feature ! Many buildings were largely stuccoed façades, of which nothing or little remains today. Nevertheless, the towering Porte Monumentale that welcomed the visitors and the huge globe-shaped planetarium – the Globe Céleste were no less incredible to behold. Other constructions, however, are still very much part of the Parisian landscape and skyline today – the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais for example, along with the Alexandre III bridge. Below ground, the first Metro lines were inaugurated with great pride to coincide with the Olympic Games – transporting visitors from the Porte de Vincennes to the Porte Maillot. The prowess of France’s production and arts were likewise showcased in the Pavillon des Manufactures Françaises on the Esplanade des Invalides. 

The merging of industry and craftsmanship with new materials and innovative usage was particularly exciting and the ceramic work of the Manufacture de Sèvres met much acclaim. Indeed, its organic, plant-like forms and unusual colours were very much  in l’air du temps and adorned buildings and monuments alike. The date 1753 figures on the porte ceramique in the Square Félix Desruelles – referring to the year that the porcelain production had become Manufacture Royale, shortly before the site was transferred from Vincennes to Sèvres in 1756. Indeed, from 1740 the porcelain had received support from Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour and the emblematic Sèvres coulours became synonymous with crown and court ; rose Pompadour, vert Vincennes, bleu de Sèvres, jaune de Naples, bleu Céleste.

By 1900, the work of the Manufacture de Sèvres was far more accessible and targeted a diverse clientele - Le jeu de l'écharpe by Agathon Léonard, for example met great success at the exposition. The porte monumentale de Sèvres originally decorated the entrance to the Pavillon des Manufactures Françaises and is its last remaining trace, having become the property of the city of Paris in 1901 and transferred to its present position in 1905. It was designed in enamelled stoneware by the architect Charles Risler and sculpted by Jules Coutan, and bears a large arch-shaped panel supported by columns, decorated with flowing Art Nouveau forms of plants, fruit and flowers. In the centre part is a woman representing the art of pottery-making, and again at the top a haut-relief depicts the art of ceramics. Towards the bottom is an owl – enigmatic figure of wisdom or learning.

This aesthetic movement became the symbolic expression of the Belle Epoque. In Paris, Hector Guimard’s strange, curving, fluid forms are integral to the Metro entrances, yet similar flowing lines would proliferate in architecture and its decoration elsewhere; wrought iron, mosaics, frescos, stained-glass windows and, of course, ceramics. Shortly after the Exposition Universelle, the Ecole de Nancy was officially founded and French Art Nouveau was expressed to its fullest form under Emile Gallé, the Daum, Louis Majorelle in art, furniture, pottery, glassware, jewellery…

Head down... A Heads-up.....

Levalet - Reims

I realised the other day that I am starting to look around me less and less, as I scurry about, stressing over my latest rat-race issue and the most recent first-world problem. The proof of this was my suddenly noticing a Levalet collage piece that is already battered and torn, so by no means a 'recent' addition to the urban landscape of Reims city centre, and yet I must have passed it many times already, without even realising. As it is pasted onto the walls of a grotty underpass that I drive through at a certain speed in the rush hour, that could be excused to a degree.

Having finally caught sight of the peeling, tattered remains of this sequence of collages during a drive home in the impressive gusts of wind from Storm Ciara, I went out to investigate, on foot...

I think the collage illustrated the separation of a couple, in view of the expression on the faces of the protagonists. Unfortunately, I couldn't lift the other poster as the wind was buffeting it, me and the camera. The final gloomy image is the boy, heading off, head down...
Searching for further information, I discovered that in fact there had initially been seven posters in this sequence and that the whole scene had only been posted up at the beginning for the year. I don't know if the missing posters were removed by admirers or taken by speculators as Levalet currently has art on show in Paris and is earning ever-greater acclaim.

I have just become aware of another work (above) - Tourner en rond - that has also passed me by, as I travel home on the evening bus. I decided to walk back last night to track it down...

Unfortunately a number of parts are missing from this piece too so that it is difficult to grasp what is actually going on from the remaining images. However, this work initially featured the same individual going through the (trompe l'oeil) door, entering the wall cavity and then sliding out again from the blockhouse window, to resume his circular trip in an ad infinitum movement worthy of M;C Escher.

It is stuck onto the once-futuristic exterior walls of my daughter's old secondary school. In view of the sheer volume of young teenagers tramping past everyday, I would say that it has fared quite well, all things considered.
As a result of my regret at having missed out on so much, I have resolved to start looking up and around me again. This really has been a heads-up in every sense!