The day dawned strangely calm and clear in spite of yesterday's storminess and we decided to give the local public transit system a try. We didn’t want to worry about our bikes once we got downtown but the walk in was daunting. Busing was interesting, however, as school had just been let out for lunch and the bus was packed to the gills. Fortunately we got on first.
As we drove towards the downtown area it began to rain again, hard, and we despaired of seeing Rennes in any other fashion. The bus dropped us off in front of city hall and we looked around for some shelters. Hidden at the far end of the Rue Brilhac and wedged tightly in among other buildings, was the façade of a church. We hurried towards it and disappeared into the darkness of its arches.
Inside we discovered the most amazing thing. Notre Dame des Miracles. We had thought to seek shelter in a small chapel but here instead was a giant edifice, dark and secretive, like a hidden grotto between the buildings of Rennes. It was so large that it was almost impossible to believe that it could possibly fit behind the small façade we had seen from the street. It had been built to commemorate the preservation of this part of the city during Rennes's great fire and a large painting depicting the Virgin Mary’s role in that preservation hung over the entrance way. To our right was a huge shrine to Mary, set back into the wall with arches overhanging everything, as if Mary was hidden in a cave. The carving and stonework had been done with great skill and reverence and the hundreds of flickering candles cast an ethereal atmosphere over everything. The walls, all the way to the ceiling, were plated with small marble strips, given in thanks for the Mother of Christ’s intervention in some individual matter. Most said merely “Merci.” The altar of the church rose from the centre and was sheltered by four Corinthian columns capped in gold supporting an arch. In the centre of the arch, overshadowing the congregation, was a bronze depiction of Heaven, a vast swirling cloud frozen in metal, with the faces of angels looking down benevolently. We found the atmosphere almost overpowering, as if the designers had wanted to show the weight of God’s omnipotence. Stepping out into the street was almost like emerging from beneath a great load.
From the church we went across to the bookstores and tried to find a replacement for the Hobbit when we finished it. You would think that finding an English book in a French bookstore would be a challenge but they proved to be exactly like English stores, the challenge wasn’t finding the book; it was finding the first book in a series. After an hour or so browsing the stores I came to the conclusion that perhaps France is not best experienced by looking for English books, so we left the store and found ourselves another church. We returned to the chopped up church of the day before. The church looked as though it had been a full cross sometime in the past but something had sliced it and left it merely and X. The church was St. Aubins and the interior soared above our heads. Where the last church had been heavy this was lofty and light poured in from the vast stained glass windows. The altar here was almost a replica of a cathedral and single gothic spire rose from it halfway to the roof.
We left there all churched out and we wandered instead through the medieval streets searching for food, but could find no fast food places. We were forced, eventually and against our will, to eat real food. It could not have done our bodies any good.
Finally we went to out main goal for the day, the Musee Des Beaux Art de Rennes.
After a brief tussle with the desk clerk, who seemed very angry that we had difficulty understanding his French, we entered the Musee.
First, as part of a museum series profiling Breton artists, we toured the exhibition of Ernest Guerin, an Art Neauveau painter and illuminator. His early work was marvelous, fragile and vibrantly colorful depictions of medieval scenes with a deep attention to detail. His series depicting the life and canonization of Joan of Arc was beautiful. His later works became very chaotic images of storms.
From his exhibit we went upstairs and entered a world of beauty. So many beautiful pieces gathered together in a small area until there was almost an overload. The first piece that really struck us was “Après Le Bain” a sculpture by Louis Henri Nicot, a voyeuristic statue of a woman tending her hair after a bath. The detail was uncanny and even the lines on her feet were incredibly well executed.
After the statue we entered the hall of the twentieth century art and modern art. Here we had the opportunity to compare an early Picasso with a later one. The early works proved that Picasso was a highly skilled artist. It is understandable that he wanted to explore new directions in his art but in comparison to his early work a painting like “Baigneuse,” a painting of a woman wholly distorted on a background consisting of a few lines, seemed almost a waste.
My favorite painting was “Tanneguy Du Chastel Sauvant Le Dauphin" by Charles August Cantes, depicting a knight in obviously ceremonial armor carrying the heir to France’s throne to safety as a mob breaks into the palace. The expressions and the clothing clearly convey the haste and surprise of the moment while the detail is amazing. The are so many more to mention, to describe them would be to write a catalog.
Here I saw my first genuine examples of Athenina red figure and black figure pottery
and Roman remains from when Rennes was the Roman city of Condate. Even Egyption antiquities graced the museum and the mummified baby crocodile, with it's sarcophagus for a lizard no bigger than my thumb, must rank among some of the weirdest examples of human eccentricity.
I regret that I can not pour out all that is in my memory onto the page but any description would be inadequate. How different to see paintings in a book and in life, where the cracks show and the texture of the artist’s strokes are as important as the image itself. We left feeling strangely full, as though we had gorged ourselves to sickness at a huge banquet.
We made but one more stop, like a drink to help us digest. We toured the gardens at Le Thabor in the centre of the city.
Previously the property of Benedicting monks and graciously opened to the public by them in the 18th century, it was a perfect example of a manicured garden. From the cascading fountains on the Rue de Paris to the artifical “Caves of Hell” and the botanical gardens created during the Revolution the garden was a history of Rennes in grass and trees and it provided a nice tranquil end to a full day.
From there we walked home again, stopping to pick up food and examine a French video rental store where you inserted your credit card and typed in your selection on a keypad and waited for your video to come to you. Altogether it had been a very busy day, especially when we had expected to do very little in Rennes. The museum already ranks as a highlight of the trip. It was very exciting to see pieces we had both studied in school hanging live in front of us. The real article is as different from a picture as the sea from a lake. Rennes, as a city, has much to be proud of.
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