Noodling around Normandy — Musée Musings

Me in Beuvron wearing my End Bossiness Soon button

Bienvenue and welcome back to Musée Musings, your idiosyncratic guide to Paris and art. This week, we’re in Normandy. It’s the fourth time I’ve been in the past 18 months. Well, actually I did visit Normandy a few times when I first moved to Paris. Back then, my destination was Deauville. En route stopping in Rouen and once at Lisieux for lunch. And while I was in Deauville, I visited lovely Honfleur and adjacent Trouville, where I would barely make a dent in the enormous bucket of moules served at Les Vapeurs on the beach - one time I sat one table down from George Clooney’s friend, Jean Dujardin.

Deauville is beautiful and its history is filled with fashionable people, like Coco Chanel who opened her first boutique here. And Monet and Boudin who painted here and Proust and the Japanese artist Leonard Foujita, who hung out here. (Figs 1-4)

Figure 1. Coco Chanel and her dogs on the beach at Deauville

Figure 2 Deauville, Juliet Under the Tent, Eugène Boudin, 1895. This jewel of a painting was at the recent Boudin exhibition at the Marmottan-Monet Museum. The exhibition design evoked the changing cabins on the beach

Figure 3 On the Beach at Trouville, Claude Monet, 1870.

Figure 4. Marcel Proust on the beach, Deauville. Collection Mike Lebas

The annual American film festival has been held in Deauville since 1975. It’s fun to wander along the beautiful beach, with all the changing cabins named after movie personalities. The film festival must explain why such a small place has so many designer boutiques. I enjoyed visiting Deauville, but it didn’t win my heart.

Then, in February of last year, I visited Cabourg for the first time. It was love at first sight. The impetus was Proust, bien sur. But I like everything else, too. For example, cheese and chocolate shops rather than designer boutiques. When I decided to leave Paris during the Olympics last year, Proust’s Cabourg beckoned. Nothing was available through HomeExchange but what I found was even better. A little village, walking distance along the beach from Cabourg, Dives-sur-Mer. (Figs 5-7) Whose claim to fame is that William the Conqueror set sail from here in 1066. Which led to the Battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066 where William, duke of Normandy, defeated Harold II, king of England become King William I of England. As recorded on the Bayeux Tapestries.

Figure 5. Le Village d’Art Guillaume-le-Conquérant, Dives-sur-Mer

Figure 6. Indoor marché at Dives-sur-Mer

Figure 7. William the Conqueror’s house in Dives-sur-Mer

Before I moved to Paris, my anchor in France was the pigeonnier in the Perigord that my husband and I bought and lovingly restored. (Fig 8) Every summer for more than 20 years, my family of three and then four, spent two, sometimes three months there. I loved the medieval villages and bastides, the weekly markets and the chateaux. But as I look back now, what was missing for me was art, specifically art museums. I tried to get my fill at the end of each trip when we spent a week in either Paris or London before heading home. But eventually, it wasn’t enough. Paris beckoned and I answered the call.

Figure 8. Petit Bout, Sigoulès, Périgord, France

People have asked how it happened that we bought a place in the Perigord. The answer is simple, John and Ellen, who were with us in Australia, returned to the U.S. before we did. They stopped in the Perigord and loved it. We followed them and loved it, too. I have often wondered about the trajectory of our lives if they had fallen in love with Normandy instead. Would we have fallen in love with it too and bought a half timber house near Cabourg? Would my kids know La Manche now rather than the Dordogne?

Once I moved to Paris, I continued to visit the Dordogne. But except for one summer, I didn’t stay more than a week. Instead, I started traveling to the Côte d'Azur. The towns and villages are varied and the scenery is often breathtaking. (Fig 9) But what I love best is the wonderful museums. The Musées Picasso, Léger, Bonnard and Renoir as well as the legendary Fondation Maeght. And of course, the Musées Matisse and Chagall and the wonderful MAMAC in Nice. And then there are the chateaux - like the Ephrussi de Rothschild and the Villa Kerylos. There is however one major drawback to the Côte d’Azur. The tiny roads and all the hairpin twists and turns - with Mercedes bearing down on you from behind and trucks barreling toward you on roads barely wide enough for cars going in one direction. Anticipating those roads made traveling to any of those wonderful museums a nightmare for me. I couldn’t keep going.

And then I discovered Cabourg, thanks to my beloved Proust. (Fig 10) Unlike the Cote d’Azur, the museums in Normandy, except for a few, weren’t established by artists. Instead they are municipal museums with varied permanent collections and frequent temporary exhibitions. There’s always a reason to go back.

This year, when I returned to Dives-sur-Mer, to the same place I stayed last year, Stéphanie’s house, with its shaded garden in the front for breakfast and flowery garden in the back, for aperos and dinner, it was like coming home. Or maybe like visiting an old friend with whom you are completely, totally simpatico.

Before this year, my longest stay in Normandy had been a week. This year, it was 18 days. Of which I dedicated several to dolce far niente, la plaisir de ne rien faire - just hanging out. Like lying on the beach after getting up late and having a café on the square rather than squeezing in a run to the beach before a museum visit. And also this time, with the luxury of time, I could dedicate each day to one pursuit instead of two or more.

The day we drove to Dives, since there wasn’t an exhibition I wanted to see in Rouen, we didn’t stop except at a rest stop. The trip was a little over 2 1/2 hours from my Paris apartment. That first evening we had dinner on the beach. Last year, each time I walked along the beach between Dives and Houlgate (where Proust’s grandmother had a summer home) to see the sunset, I was envious of the people sitting at the bistro on the beach watching the sunset and having a drink. This year, I joined them. Nicolas and I each had a beer, shared a planche de charcuterie and fromage (cold meats and cheese board) and watched the sun set. (Figs 11, 12)

Figure 11. Nic tucking into a planche of charcuterie et fromage, with hummus and a beer

On our first full day in Normandy we went to the American Cemetery. At first, following my instincts to stuff as much stuff into a day as possible, I penciled in nearby Bayeux. But that didn’t happen. We started at Omaha Beach (Figs 13, 14) which I had only looked down at last time, from the American Cemetery. It was right to see it up-close, to walk where boots had hit the ground, where so many boots had never hit the ground but wound up floating in a sea of blood, boots still on young men and boys gunned down by Nazi snippers as they tried to make it to shore.

Figure 13. Commemorative sculpture at Omaha Beach

Figure 14. Another memorial to men who died on Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944

At the American Cemetery, we visited the Visitors Center, saw vintage footage of the region before and after the landing, saw diagrams of the military campaigns and listened to the voices of people who had been there. This year, as last, the Cemetery was crowded but quiet. As we were getting ready to go, everyone started to make their way to the entrance. So we did, too. Just in time to watch the Lowering of the Flag ceremony accompanied by the eerie sound of a single bugler playing Taps.

The next day, we went someplace new to me, a place I had hoped to go last year but which had seemed too far away when there were so many places closer to Dives that I wanted to see. This time, spurred by the exhibition I had seen about Matisse and his daughter Marguerite, we went to Étretat. It took 90 minutes to drive there, 30 minutes to find parking and another 30 minutes to walk back into town from where we parked!

Have you heard of Étretat? Like Cabourg and Deauville, it’s a seaside town along La Manche. The stretch it’s on is called the Alabaster Coast because of its white cliffs (falaises) and famous arches. We didn’t get as up close and personal to the arches as Matisse and Marguerite had, but it was still wonderful. (Figs 15 - 17) I had time to stare at the arch for a while since Nicolas decided to scamper up another cliff to get a bird’s eye view. My view reminded me of the cliffs along the Pacific Ocean where I walk when I am in San Francisco. It also reminded me of paintings by the Australian artist, Augustus Earle, of Illawarra, near Sydney. (Figs 18, 19) The spot I found to wait for Nicolas was next to a tiny library, in front of which were folding chairs. Where you could read a book you brought or one you borrowed. It set just the right tone. (Fig 20)

Figure 15. Me as close as I got to Etretat’s iconic arch

Figure 16. Marguerite nestled below the arch, Henri Matisse

Figure 17. The Arch at Étretat, sketch, Henri Matisse

Figure 18. My view at Ocean Beach where I walk nearly every evening when I’m in San Francisco

Figure 19. Coast of Illawarra, Augustus Earle. An Australian artist who I learned about to teach about when I taught art history in Canberra at the Australian National University

Figure 20. The lending library on the beach of Étretat

After lunch, we hiked up to a place I hadn’t been planning on going but as soon as I googled it, I knew that I knew the place. The Jardins d’Étretat is a “cliff-top experimental topiary garden” which was created on land that had once surrounded a Belle Époque villa. It's arranged into seven thematic sections. The first, at the entrance, Jardin Avatar serves (according to the garden’s website) as a gateway to a surreal and magical world. The next, the Jardin Impressions, offers a vantage point from where you can see the famous view of La Manche, farther away and more romantic. I recognized the view from painting by Eugene Boudin that I saw at the wonderful Boudin exhibition that has just closed at the Musée Marmottan-Monet. (Figs 21-22)

Figure 21. Étretat Garden poster with maze logo and distant view of falaise

The third, Jardin d'Amont, overlooks all the other gardens and offers breathtaking views of the gardens and landscapes below and around. Each of the elements in the next garden, the Jardin Zen, is meant to evoke a sense of flight - rhododendron flowers, clay sculptures suspended in the air and (when the wind blows which I guess it mostly does) gently swaying swings under the tree branches. The Jardin Aval was inspired by Alice in Wonderland. Its yew arches create a vegetal replica of the famous alabaster arch of Étretat. The Jardin La Manche, is a “massive labyrinth of plants trimmed to evoke breaking waves and the foam of the waves crashing against the cliffs”. (Figs 23 -27)

Figure 25. Étretat Garden, La Manche Garden

Figure 26. Étretat Garden, woman blown by the breezes

It was the Jardin Émotions, which the website says draws inspiration from Marie-Antoinette's first French oyster farm (!) that I recognized. Sculptures of “emotion-faces" which the website suggests “add an expressive dimension, reminiscent of the inhabitants of the marine depths” are nestled into curving shrubs which mimic “the waves of the sea, the sway of the wind, and the contours of the cliffside.” It’s hard to resist giving those cheeks a pinch! (Figs 28, 29)

Figure 28. Étretat Garden, Emotions Garden

Figure 29. Étretat Garden, Emotions Garden

The garden was conceived by Alexander Grivko as a place where “landscape architecture would blend with contemporary art and invite visitors to engage with the region’s environment through an artistic lens.” In addition to the garden’s permanent sculptures and installations, every two years, Jardins d’Étretat invites artists to submit ideas for large-scale, site-specific projects. It’s how small museums stay alive, too - with temporary exhibitions and installations to make sure that people keep returning.

This garden, which I hadn’t planned on visiting, whetted my appetite for more. Nature and culture together is my happy place. I decided to find other gardens and peel back another layer of pleasure in Normandy.

The next day, the day that Nicolas returned to Paris to follow-up with the Chinese Embassy in Paris on his work visa (and spend some quality time alone in my Paris apartment), we walked into Cabourg, over the bridge on which I had delighted in the aerial antics of La Patrouille (France’s Blue Angels) last year. Although the sky was overcast and the water was turbulent, we dipped our feet into the sea. After lunch at the little bistro in Dives’ village square, which is called hiver et été, I guess to let the locals know that they are there for them as well as the summer tourists, we drove to Deauville from where Nicolas took the train back to Paris. We arrived early so we could walk along the boardwalk with its celebrity named change cabins, which didn’t interest Nicolas at all. With promises that he would return at the end of my stay, it wasn’t so sad to see him go.

Despite my determination to relax, I did a lot of running around during the next 10 days. Here’s a preview. One day, I visited Bayeux to see the tapestries before they leave for London. Unlike the last time I visited, there was a long line to get in and since advance booking isn’t possible, if you want to get in, you stand in a long line. But it moves very well after you do finally get in because everyone gets an audio guide and you can’t really dawdle because the audio doesn’t. And because I hadn’t double booked my day, I had time to visit the museum and wander through the town's beautiful cathedral. (Figs 30-33)

Figure 30. Detail, Halley’s Comet, Bayeux Tapestry, Bayeux Museum

Figure 31. Painting at Bayeux Museum of Art

Figure 32. Me with props to create my own version of Virgin and Child with Grapes

Another day, I returned to Deauville but only to the art museum and cultural center, Les Franciscaines. I saw two exhibitions - one on the photographs of Pierre and Gilles and another which took as its subject, the deep blue sea, where I was introduced, to among other artists, a Singaporean artist who goes by the name of Niceaunties. (F 34,35)

Figure 34. Pierre et Gilles, Monde Marin, Franciscaines, Deauville

Figure 35. Bleu Profond, Niceaunties, Franciscaines, Deauville

Another day I walked back to Cabourg to see an exhibition about Louis Pasteur at the Villa du Temps Retrouvé, Not only did Pasteur live during the Belle Epoche, which is museum’s focus, he was also intimately involved in art. The exhibition reminded me that not all that long ago, art and science were not as far apart as they are now.

Another day, I visited the newly and beautifully refurbished Chateau de Caen which houses their Musée des Beaux Arts, to see an exhibition about the importance of the horizon line in painting and prints and photographs from the Renaissance to our own time. The exhibition’s theme made me chuckle after all the reading and writing I’ve been doing on David Hockney’s perspective on perspective. More on that soon.

After my serendipitous visit to the Jardins d’Etretat, I googled gardens in Normandy and found the charming Chateau de Boudemont and wandered around its glorious garden.(Fig 36) Another day, I made my way to the curious Jardin de Paye d’Auge. (Fig 37) Which is not attached to a chateau but which has a series of buildings showing the implements and sometimes the workers of various agricultural trades. While the woman of the house does all the gardening (and there’s lots of it) the man of the house mans the ticket booth. The last garden I saw but not the last there is to see (I’ll be back!) was at the Chateau Vandeuvre (Fig 38) which was sort of a combination of the other two. A chateau where people actually lived, so everything that they were happy for you to see was stuffed into three rooms on the ground floor. That money was scarce was clear - the gardens were wild in parts. But the giocchi d’acqua, (water jokes) worked and if you stepped on the right (or wrong) thing, you or your companion got a quick soaking.

Figure 36. Chateau and Garden of Boudemont

Figure 38. Chateau and Garden of Vandeuvre

There’s more of course - the day I returned to Deauville to pick Nicolas up, I stopped first at the Musée du Chateau Montebello in adjacent Trouville for an exhibition entitled, Trouville c’est mon Amerique à moi (Fig 39) which is how Alexandre Dumas père described his fascination with the working class village next door to Deauville.

Figure 39. Trouville, c’est mon Amerique à moi

With Nicolas, I returned to Caen but this time to go to the Memorial de Caen. The ticketing was a confusing mess and Nicolas didn’t get to see the displays he hoped to see. But we saw the exhibition I wanted to see - on the American journalist Varian Fry, (Fig 40) whose mission to save the artists and intellectuals threatened by the Nazis (among them Marc Chagall) was fascinated. I will tell you about that, too. Finally, on our way home, we stopped at Le Havre to see an exhibition at MUMA on Paquebots, the luxury steam liners that took fashionable people across the Atlantic.

Figure 40. Varian Fry, les Chemins de l’Exil, Memorial de Caen

Even I can’t live on museums and gardens alone. I had some lovely meals, at simple cafes, like the one in the center of the village where I stayed to another perfect meal at the Pave d’Auge in Beuvron en Auge. I had one truly disappointing meal at a Michelin starred restaurant in Cabourg, where the high prices and tiny portions reminded me (and not in a good way) of San Francisco. Gros bisous, Dr. B.

Thanks to everyone who sent a Comment about last week’s post on Cleopatra, they are much appreciated. The exhibition will be at the Institut du monde arabe through January 2026.

New comments on Cleopatra: History / Legend // Myth / Icon:

Loved this thoughtful piece on Cleopatra! Piqued my interest to learn more of her true story. Thank you! GG

Another terrific article. And another reason to love Paris - where else would you find such a fascinating and multi-faceted (hurrah for Swarovski) exhibition. Peg

A fascinating blog yet again thanks Beverly. Katherine, Oxford, England

New comment on I don't photograph life as it is, but life as I would like it to be:

Wonderful review. Sorry to miss this exhibition, Kathleen