La Grande Odalisque

Back to the Louvre -- this time for the main spring exhibition, a retrospective of the very long-lived 19th century painter Ingres. Before going any further, here is a lesson in French spelling and pronunciation. His name is Ingres. Not Ingrès. In other words it is a one-syllable name that rhymes (roughly) with bang. It is funny but nearly every English-speaking person I know refers to the painter as Angrez. I did it myself until I was disabused by the show's curator Louis-Antoine Prat. Why we do it, I don't know. Is it by sub-conscious association with Spanish-origin names like Delibes or Ines? In fact the French language is very consistent when it comes to "l'orthographie," so we should have known. There's no accent, so it's "Angre". Anyway the exhibition is great, and if you are in Paris before May 15 ça vaut le détour. He was a remarkable man. A grouchy and intolerant curmudgeon by all accounts (hmmm warming to him already) but an instinctive "deviant" -- as Prat described him. (I had a guided tour, thank you for asking). He saw himself as part of the classical school, but could not help subverting from within the very code he claimed to uphold. And such a variety of genres! The erotic nudes, religious works, bourgeois portraits, grand classical allegories, masses of charcoal sketches etc etc. They have chosen La Grande Odalisque for the publicity (see above). It is famous for showing Ingres' remarkably elastic attitude to anatomy. The woman's back has several vertebrae too many, and her right arm would dangle by her calf is she stood up. But who cares? It works. For more on the show, buy the upcoming edition of Champs-Elysees. Ça vaut la dépense.

It is that time of year again. The late-winter ritual when for two weeks French farmers receive the applause of the nation and go back home feeling that perhaps it's all worth while after all. The annual Salon de l'Agriculture is a morale-boosting exercise for all concerned. Farmers show off their prize steers and enjoy a few days in the big smoke with their wives; Parisians get the thrill of pretending they are still country-folk at heart; and politicians are assured a succession of top-class photo-ops. Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin took top award this year for "ingratiating self-abasement in a noble cause" when he posed with a kid goat around his neck like the good shepherd from the bible story. Hundreds of thousands visit the Salon every February, and it is actually a bit of a nightmare on a crowded Saturday. But hats off to France. The French cherish their countryside, and realise its importance for both the economy and national identity. Who is to say they are wrong to try to protect and preserve it? Anyway there was one glaring absentee this year from the show -- poultry. The bird flu scare did its damnedest, and the halls were free of honking geese and rare breeds of cock. A shame. But there was everything else this year, including the mandatory bulls with hyper-developed privates (see pic)