A Question of Asthetics

[jean_moulin]

Greetings from Montparnasse

Comments

[malignedmaestro]

"Have any of you found representations of yourself since your death that don't quite hit the mark?"

Signore, I have yet to find a representation of myself that comes anywhere close to the mark.

~A.S.~

[jean_moulin]

Then here, have Macbeth's drink. If he arrives later I'm sure he'll understand.

[ada_col]

That looks extremely hideous interesting. But then, most modern art appears to be of this sort.

[jean_moulin]

Madame King, I assure you modern art is a vibrant and vital movement, uniting both the symbolists and the surrealists of the past to a future where art and photography can exist side-by-side and even spur each other to greater heights for each medium.

Oh, the long hours I would spend with Max playing devil's advocate with your very own position. Still at every turn he had my argument against the wall. Such good times...

I'm sorry, what were we discussing?

[le_beau_fersen]

Did you really expect any better of France, sir?

Have any of you found representations of yourself since your death that don't quite hit the mark?

Oh, let me think. Not perhaps quite in the same, er, interesting way, but nonetheless.

I usually deal with it through a combination of ignoring them and sulking. It seems to work.

[jean_moulin]

I did not expect them to overrun the country with government art installations! I was an artist myself; this is like honoring a gardener with weeds.

I see your raconteurs have been busy as well. Would you advise two parts ignoring to one part sulking? Or vice versa? Right now I'm trying two parts pretending-not-to-see-them to one part Absinthe.

[twicequeen]

Oh, but sir-at least you are an object of delight to the ladies. And so modern!

[ac_energy]

Or even the forest the tree is in?

Sir, the few who do know me claim me a madman. My typist sniggers a comment about the French but I am ignoring her for now. This is truly proof that the greater you are in life the more poorly depicted you are in death. Ah, the child is yanking on my sleve. She wishes to know if René Hardy was indeed your Judas.

[jean_moulin]

René Hardy could not betray his way out of a wet paper sack. He was useful enough in his way, but when it comes to strong, decisive action, he'd be out of his depth in a car park puddle

[ac_energy]

I try my best not to be a man of judgement knowing how precious forgivness is but still there is the question of your incredibly...unique...statue. I recall that Queens Elizabeth, Isabel, and Eleanor of Aquitaine statues' were layed out in a more dignified mannor and

...

Excuse me, my typist won't stop giggling.

...

She says if you look at it sideways that bump of clothing at your ankle almost makes it look like your pants are down. She now inquires if you died with your pants down.

*de puppets for a moment*
I swear it does! Like one leg is trying to free itself. Sorry, couldn't help myself there.

[jean_moulin]

"She says if you look at it sideways that bump of clothing at your ankle almost makes it look like your pants are down."

Hm. So it does. Perhaps they got something right after all.

/I suppose it beats another scarf statue.

My dear Senor

[secretjewess]

At least you are lucky enough to have popular representations! Admittedly, however, I would prefer no statue to that one, which has just caused my typist to vomit up her grilled cheese. My typist says she saw you at the Pantheon this April past, and we are both honored to meet you. I wonder if you might recommend a good English language biography of yourself, as I like to keep up to date on movements which antedate me.

Your devoted admirer,
Dona Gracia Mendes

What is this absinthe? It sounds far better than the libations we had in my time.

Re: My dear Senor

[jean_moulin]

Thank you for proving such good company this past April! I assure you both the honor and pleasure were entirely mine. As people frequantly noted what a gracious host I was in my life, I hope you were warmly welcomed.

I'm relieved afraid there are only two English language books on my life, neither of note. One is an over-priced political text, the other penned by an extremely homophobic conservative author who had nothing but faint praise for the Popular Front, and ergo most of my closest aquantainces. It seems quite surprising that he should write of my little life at all if it weren't for that faint scent of man-crush pervading the text.

If you still wish to know a little something on the subject, my typist wrote two essays on the subject here and here, the first on the facts of my life the latter on my personality. Also, if you by chance live in London, it is likely a play she wrote in which I am one of the lead characters will be produced there in the following year