“Time is invention and nothing else.”--Henri Bergson
This is the epigraph for Museum Vaults, though it could also be said for the notion of art, beauty, value. This is one of fourteen books (at this point) about the Louvre, from a range of perspectives, my fourth read. This one look at the vaults in floor after floor of underground storage in the seemingly never-ending art museum. A reflection on the nature of art, what it is we value as beautiful or worthwhile. It focuses on a few excerpts from an art assessor's study of the museum, with all of the aging art, the restoration work, copying, and so on.
Some of the rooms themselves might be seen as "works of art." Some of the supporting columns in the basement might be seen as art. What is an art "expert" and how does one become one? And how does that change over time? What happens when time changes art, erodes it and people attempt to "restore" it? What does it mean to store millions of art pieces in an underground labyrinth as all art museums do? What does this cultural repository represent for as humans over the passage of time?
An expert has come to a large museum to evaluate its collection. He starts to descend into its basement, reaching absurdly deep levels full of bizarre departments and strange employees in what seems an increasingly futile attempt to visit every corner of the labyrinthine structure. It wants to be humorous, but aside from a section about the "Mona Lisa" smile, it is simply too nonsensical for me. Bah!
Surreal black and white graphic novel about an "Expert" making his way through the interminable (and fictional, I presume) subbasements of the Louvre in order to "commence the study, indexing, and evaluation of the collections." His tour of the subbasements takes his entire life, and even then, it is apparent that we have only scratched the surface of what lies beneath.
It is an interesting work that suggests Borges, Kafka, Lem, Gorey, Escher, and even Macauley's Motel of the Mysteries. If I were more familiar with the Louvre, with the art world in general, and with art criticism in particular, I think I would have gotten more out of this than I did. Definitely something interesting to check out from your local library.
The cover looked interesting, so I picked this up in the Teen graphic novel section at the downtown library (although I don't believe it should be in this section). It was a futuristic look at the Louvre in the fictional subbasements, where the collection is now stored. The graphic novel was making fun of art history and curatorial practices, which I found kind of funny as I majored in art history and museum studies in university. Overall, I thought it was pretty boring, though I liked the Escher-esque black & white art.
Another in a series of comics co-published with the Louvre. Fun but Kafka-esqe. The Copie gallery is a funny idea as is the "Deliberately Crude Restoration."
First, I don't know or care enough about art history to really understand a lot of what was discussed. I care about art, but I don't have the contextual knowledge of most classical art.
Second, why does everyone refer to this as being Escher-esque? Even the description:
Mathieu, an artist who marries Escher with Kafka, brings stinging irony to the pompousness of art history
This seems like an insult to both Escher and Mathieu, like a lazy way to say expect some geometric art! There's a recursive painting! Oh boy!(/sarcasm)
Third, the "expert" that discovers a dying expert, and eventually gives his disintegrating book of knowledge to a new "expert", it's a rather pointless cycle. Maybe that was the point. ... I give up.
The artwork was decent; I didn't particularly like the character designs, they seemed out of place among the wonderfully detailed depictions of art.
Full of visual ironies alongside the ones the characters themselves observe, this work is simplistic in its medium, but so much more complex. It's not so much a story as it is a graphic essay on the goings-on behind the scenes at the Louvre, and the attachments people make to their particular trades/duties, likening them to an artform. Even the "expert" can be seen here as an artist or master of his work as he collects information and then passes it on to the next. It's a beautiful piece, despite its starkness. Really, the only reason I didn't give it a 5 is because it's not one I feel like I would want to read time and again. 4.5, if I could.
Absolutely incredible. Breaks every rule. Unconventional hero, unclear goal of the hero, odd timeline, no true antagonist. And yet - it's absolutely incredible. It has elements of Salvador Dalí to be sure, but Marc-Antoine Mathieu hammers it out into something just on the narrative side of surreality.
If you want something unlike anything you've read before, consider this one!
A really wonderful little story about the labors of a man trying to inventory the vaults of a fictional Louvre, here presented as incredibly ancient and nearly infinite. It gets pretty Borgesian in there.
Last time I was in Brussels, I visited the comics museum and had the chance to have a glimpse at some pages of this book, which were exposed there. They stroke for their clear drawing style, their bizarre setting (the subterranea of the Louvre) and some intriguing tendency to delve into mise-en-abyme. I bought a copy. The thing I hadn't guessed was that this BD would prove to be written right for me. A mix of François Schuiten, Susanna Clarke's "Piranesi" and "Le città invisibili" by Italo Calvino — imbued of course with its own poetic element (otherwise it could never truly remind of the other three!). Much more of a "conte philosophique" than an adventure comic, "Les Sous-sols du Révolu" is abstract and linear, but also light, witful, and wonderfully self-referential. Strongly recommended to anyone who loved Schuiten's "La Tour"!
Les sous-sols du «Révolu», ou plutôt du «Louvre», puisque la bande-dessinée dressera un portrait fictif des différents étages secrets du célèbre musée parisien. On accompagnera l'«Expert», personnage mystérieux qui entreprendra la descente du musée, afin d'y découvrir ses secrets. Chaque étage est un chapitre, un concept qui posera des questions (et parfois même des réponses) sur l'art.
Excellent livre qui aborde plein de concepts-clés de l'oeuvre de Mathieu, mais on ne plonge jamais en réelle profondeur dans chacune des idées présentées. On pourrait voir en ce livre une sorte de rassemblement de la pensée de l'auteur, qui nous intéressera probablement à d'autres parties de son oeuvres plus approfondies.
Marc-Antoine Mathieu makes his way through the ceaseless subbasements of a museum to index and evaluate the never ending collection of records and art. It's a surreal story about the inescapable draw towards the love of this kind of work, whereby the lifelong trek through the basement serves as a reflection of Mathieu's own undying love for the medium. This raises questions on the nature of being an "expert" in a field, particularly when in the limited scope of one lifetime one can never truly do more than just scratch the surface. Fairly rich in the philosophical outlook on things, this is a pretty intriguing read and matched capably by Mathieu's bold black-and-white artwork. It is a bit of a dry read unfortunately, even if the concept is an interesting one.
A dim lit journey, spiralling into the world of museums, exploring a museum behind the scenes, as big as an entire world. It actually reminded me of Borges, the Library in "The Name of the Rose" and Disney's Atlantis (and my dissertation). The story could have easily been boring for someone less passionate than me about this topic... but still is quite fascinating, and short enough. I'm conflicted between 3 and 4 stars. Maaaybe 3.5?
On the strength of the art & concept... the dialogue (mostly monologues by the museum staff directed to the protagonist “expert”) can get obtuse. Loved the bit on the Mona Lisa (tho never named), the gallery of frames, and the gallery of copies (people painting people who are painting copies of paintings)...
This gets DEEP, philosophically speaking, as he goes farther underground. I had to leave it open to ponder many times- sometimes repeatedly on the same two->page->spread!
Tragically, yet still interestingly, I was reading this when a still-unidentified guy floated onto the beach drowned a ways down where it's un-lifeguarded. That's a problem with swimming nude totally on your own and out of sight -without a family looking- you may end up a John/Jane Doe in some "potters field" type of resting place...
Dit boekje geeft je zogezegd een inkijkje achter de schermen van het Louvre. Elk hoofdstuk brengt je dieper in de oneindige, pyramidaal opgebouwde kelder van het museum. De ene ruimte bevat alleen maar kaders, in een ander verzamelen ze kopieën, of doen ze met chirurgische precisie en zo weinig mogelijk licht aan restauraties. In weer een ander worden suppoosten geleerd hoe ze tegen iemand die een werk wil aanraken, 'Tss Tss Tss!' moeten zeggen. De mooiste vondst is de Da Vinci-achtige figuur die de acht versies van een glimlach bestudeert en vertelt hoe elke maand een andere versie boven opgehangen wordt, zodat de mensen kunnen blijven praten en discussiëren over die mysterieuze glimlach. Na achttienduizend vierendertig dagen is de expert nog niet aan het einde van de tocht gekomen, maar niet getreurd: deze fragmenten uit zijn dagboek zijn al voldoende om je geregeld te doen glimlachen. Ik hou wel van deze slimme humor.
“Les Sous-sols du Revolù” è frutto di un accordo tra la casa editrice Futuropolis e il Museo del Louvre, che prevede una ri-esplorazione del museo da parte di ogni autore. Nel 2006 è toccato a Marc-Antoine Mathieu. Il Revolù, o semplicemente il museo, è un luogo di mistero e ineffabile bellezza. I cosiddetti esperti ne percorrono le diramazioni frattali di corridoi e stanze con lo scopo di catalogare le opere al loro interno. Seguiamo dunque i passi di Liurseo Del Volume, designato di un compito impossibile e vano, ma non certo privo di significato.
Il lettore più attento non mancherà di identificare nel lavoro di questi catalogatori l'opera dello stesso Mathieu e dei suoi colleghi, che passano, ognuno sotto la personale lente deformante, questo oggetto misterioso fatto di quadri (quanti ce ne sono nel Louvre e quanti ce ne potrebbero essere stati) e riquadri (intesi come cornici, stampi, contenitori - molto appropriato: quasi nessuna opera originale trova spazio nelle tavole, soltanto accenni, allusioni, riflessi) che cangiano e rivoltolano, dove ogni singolo elemento è un rompicapo che riguarda il tema precipuo del tempo e l'arte. Il gioco degli anagrammi riflette la natura stessa della conoscenza (sempre inafferrabile eppure inevitabilmente inseguita): il Louvre - il cui nome, come la sua piantina e dunque la sua architettura, viene continuamente scombinato e ricombinato da un meccanismo narrativo capace di generare illusioni prospettiche di una profondità virtualmente infinita, per scoprire infine che il museo, le opere, e tutto ciò che contiene - compresi gli esperti e i loro infiniti cataloghi - non sono che un riflesso di una sua parte, così come il Revolù non è che un riflesso dell'universo intero. Quella di Mathieu è, per l'appunto, un'opera che si specchia nella sua stessa immagine: curiosa, leggera , patafisica, magari un po’ vanesia, ma senza dubbio affascinante.
Consigliato agli amanti di Italo Calvino, Raymond Queneau, “Piranesi” di Susanna Clarke, i disegni di M.C. Escher.
The Museum Vaults: Excerpts from the Journal of an Expert is an excellent, short graphic novel set in a very Kafkaesque Musée du Louvre. It is volume 3 in a series co-published with the Louvre, which if Goodreads is correct includes 6 titles.
They say that all of these names are nothing but anagrams of the museum’s real name, which has been forgotten. For my part, I’d say that its name hasn’t yet been found, for if it’s true that one only definitively names things that one can grasp, then the museum must be the most difficult to define.” (6)
Contents: ▪ Day One: Conservation ▪ Day Three: The Foundations of the Summit ▪ Day Thirty-Three: Technical Galleries ▪ Day Forty-Six: The Flooded Gallery ▪ Day Two Hundred Twelve: The Repository for Molds ▪ Day Six Hundred Fifty One: The Fragments Room ▪ Day Nine Hundred and Sixty: The Restoration Workshop ▪ Day One Thousand Four Hundred and Thirteen: The Department of Copies ▪ Day Three Thousand Eight Hundred and Sixty-Five: Painting Storage ▪ Day Five Thousand Eight Hundred and Nine: The Archives ▪ Day Nine Thousand Seven Hundred and Twenty-Seven: The Old Expert ▪ Day Ten Thousand: The Frame Depot ▪ Day Eleven Thousand Eight Hundred Ninety-Four: Bricabracology ▪ Day Fourteen Thousand Five Hundred and Seven: The Icon ▪ Day Sixteen Thousand Six Hundred and Ten: The Truly Grand Design ▪ Day Eighteen Thousand One Hundred and Thirty-Four: The Final Chapter ▪ List of works cited (includes Great Sphinx, “Hammurabi’s Head,” a Piet Mondrian, and others) ▪ The Louvre: From a castle to a museum
The Musee du Revolu, as it is now called, hires an expert, Eudeus Volumer, and an assistant, to evaluate the collections. The story follows their progress through the labyrinthine museum, along the way skewering art and art history. Or, as the back blurb says, “Mathieu, an artist who marries Escher with Kafka, brings stinging irony to the pompousness of art history.” All of the various sections comment on different aspects of art, criticism, and art history. Just a few of the tools are anagrams, and other word play, and meta-commentary through the use of the graphic medium and the devices in some of the areas of the museum to comment on some aspect of art. The Mona Lisa is used to make an important point about copies and almost identical works and what the arrival of the daguerreotype means for art. Picture frames poke fun at Piet Mondrian and hint at the coming of the cartoon panel layout. There are others and, no doubt, I missed a few.
All in all, I found this an excellent, and extremely quick, read but one that bears contemplation. I will probably re-read it before returning it and then looking into whether our public library has the other volumes in the series. Highly recommended.