Today I came across a snippet from a diary, written 100 years before I was born (1879). The lady writing the diary had moved to Paris hoping to become an artist. Here's what she wrote:
What I long for is the freedom of going about alone, of coming and and going, of sitting in the seats of the Tuileries, and especially in the Luxembourg, of stopping and looking at the artistic shops, of entering churches or museums, of walking about old streets at night; that's what I long for; and that's the freedom without which one cannot become a real artist. Do you imagine that I get much good from what I see, chaperoned as I am, and when, in order to go to the Louvre, I must wait for my carriage, my lady companion, my family?
It's easy to take for granted some of the liberties we have today. Freedom is an important condition for the artist. This morning I went out and collected flotsam and jetsom in a bag. I don't think this lady would have been able to do that!
What I long for is the freedom of going about alone, of coming and and going, of sitting in the seats of the Tuileries, and especially in the Luxembourg, of stopping and looking at the artistic shops, of entering churches or museums, of walking about old streets at night; that's what I long for; and that's the freedom without which one cannot become a real artist. Do you imagine that I get much good from what I see, chaperoned as I am, and when, in order to go to the Louvre, I must wait for my carriage, my lady companion, my family?
It's easy to take for granted some of the liberties we have today. Freedom is an important condition for the artist. This morning I went out and collected flotsam and jetsom in a bag. I don't think this lady would have been able to do that!
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