After a few minutes, I heard a voice ask “Would you like to come in and look around?” And that’s how I met sculptor and artist Dave Lane. He spent about an hour with me, showing me his huge and otherworldly sculptures made from recycled steel agricultural and industrial parts and explaining a little of what he was doing and why (most of which sailed right over my head).

At that time he exhibited only one piece a year at the California State Fair, in part because it was the only venue with a space large enough for his work.

Now he has a one-man show at UC Davis, in a space that’s still too small for him. Or maybe not, because his great hulking art machines are very powerful in the windowless gallery. One, called “Heart of Gold,” he describes as “basically a Space-Time Ship. Only, I don’t believe in Time anymore.” The Machine for Making Twilight referred to in my title also has to do with the ability to control time by making twilight.

There are some smaller sculptures as well, including “families” of small figures on old tricycle bases clustered together, and the Keyes, which are variously sized figures (top center in the photo, mostly with a large head-like wheel on top). The Keyes were the first sculptures he made and the only ones he refuses to talk about.

This show also includes his paintings, drawings, and dioramas. The dioramas are small boxes, about six-by-six inches, populated by tiny plastic figures and accompanied by parables. The few I read (because the text is mounted below the boxes, you had to practically get down on your knees to read them), were both mysterious and incredibly funny.

He was on hand Sunday to lead an impromptu tour of the exhibit and explain, sort of, what it was all about. He described as cross sections of his brain a large series of drawings that were formed by lots of intriguing phrases in his small and tidy handwriting in patterns on the paper.

He never sells his art, and google seems to indicate that he’s unknown outside of this area, but I really love his work. It’s mysterious, meticulously crafted, full of humor, and it really makes you think. And some of it is breathtakingly beautiful as well.

The Musée d’Orsay was on that list, but as I thought about what to do with our last few days, I realized I really wanted to go again. After all, it is one of my favorite museums in the world so it would be foolish not to. And it’s a rainy day, although MUCH warmer than it has been.

So today, we did, along with about a zillion other people. We were among the very few who didn’t take flash photos of every recognizable painting while scurrying past all the rest with hardly a glance. How can they not see they’re getting lousy photos with that flash reflection in the middle of each one, not to mention they’re missing their chance to actually LOOK at the paintings? The worst was the big guy with the huge monkey puppet wrapped around his shoulders who found it hilarious to plant himself in front of all the paintings and have his children take flash photos of him with the paintings. Grrr.

Still, I love this museum. I just read Susan Vreeland’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, a pretty bad novel which nevertheless provides a good description of how Renoir worked on that painting, so I was itching to spend a little time looking at the Renoirs. (I think that particular painting is in Washington, D.C., not Paris, but there were a few others he painted at the same time I knew I could see.)

Then there’s that room of Cezannes that I always love best. Fortunately, no one thought it was worth photographing the Portrait of Gustave Geffroy that I wanted to spend my time on, so I had it pretty much to myself. The photo in this link isn’t good—the colors are all wrong, at least on line, and all the subtle colors are just lost–but it’s an amazing painting.

A very nice next-to-last day!

Modern art is my favorite, but we hadn’t been back to the Pompidou since our first visit to Paris in 1995. For some reason then I decided I didn’t like it—I don’t remember why. It almost seems like we must have seen some special exhibit I didn’t care for and missed the permanent collection.

I’m glad the rain (Did I mention wind? And cold?) drove us in so I could revise that opinion. It’s an astonishing collection, far too much to take in in a single day.

The logistics at the Pompidou are a little confusing. We waited in a long line to get through security, then another long line for tickets, then a third long line for the cloakroom, where they had only one person checking umbrellas and bags of all those people who waited through the other lines.

It wasn’t until after I had my ticket that I read the fine print that said we had an assigned time for the special Louise Bourgeois exhibit… seven hours later.

I’d already been walking for a few hours in the morning, while Frank had made a fruitless trip to see the Catacombs, which turned out not to be open for the season yet, so even after a long break at Georges on the top floor, we pooped out at least an hour before our assigned Louise Borgeois time. Too bad—I would have loved to have seen it. At least they had one of her wonderful giant bronze spiders in the lobby, and another of her pieces at the entrance to the main collection.

Earlier in the day I walked over to visit Dehillerin and a couple of other cookware stores recommended by Clothilde on her Chocolate and Zucchini blog. Interesting to see, but I wasn’t tempted to buy. With the current exchange rate, not to mention luggage weight and space, I can get anything I need at home.

We hadn’t been to this museum since our first trip to Paris in 1995. I remembered it as presenting his works in chronological order, but maybe because Frank asked for an elevator ride and we started from the top floor, I couldn’t detect any order this time.

I’m not at all articulate about art. I enjoy most of it, but I really love pieces that sort of reach inside me, grab something and twist. Yesterday Picasso’s sculptures were working that magic for me, especially the nanny goat made from found objects. I’ve always loved his bronzes of nanny goats, but this one was really amazing. I’d like to post a link to a photo of the sculpture here, but with my slow connection, I’m having a hard time finding one online.

Today it’s colder, raining harder, and the wind is blowing, so I’m having trouble working myself up to leave the apartment at all. Workmen are coming this afternoon to install a new oven, so that will probably force us out.

I got my first glimpse of Paris years ago when we emerged from the Metro at Saint Michel and walked down St. Andres des Arts to our hotel near Rue de Buci. I loved it, and have been slow to accept that it’s no longer my favorite part of Paris. This trip our hotel was in the same neighborhood except on a street that should have been quieter, but was still noisy all night long. About the time the parties ended, the garbage collection started. And the streets were packed with kids all day long. It’s just not my scene. Next time we stay elsewhere!

The Orangerie.

I’ve wanted to visit the Orangerie for years, checking before every Paris trip to see if the endless renovations were complete and it was finally open. Finally this time it was, and we were able to visit the two rooms with huge Monet waterlily paintings and the long narrow galleries in the basement (sort of reminiscent of being down in the tunnels of the Metro). A couple of the Monets were magnificent, the others I thought were mostly just big, but not his best efforts. Definitely not my favorite Paris art museum.

Jet lag.

My doctor startled me a few weeks ago by chortling and rubbing his hands and saying “Have I got a jet lag cure for you!!” when I asked for Ambien to get over the rough spots of jet lag. In addition to the sleepy pills, he gave me something called Provigil to keep me awake and alert through the first day when we arrived. It worked—I felt wide awake all day but not jittery and slept as well as could be expected through the parties in the street outside my window. A couple of days later, I’m realizing it didn’t prevent the jet lag, just delayed it. Ho-hum.

I LOVE Paris.

I realize this sounds grumpy, but don’t misunderstand me. Even though we just stopped over two nights and one day in Paris this trip, I loved it. It was the most perfectly beautiful spring day you could ever imagine, and we walked all day long. And the Laduree macarons were perfect!