The French Art of Not Trying Too Hard

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To put your whole foot on the wire all at once produces a sure though heavy kind of walking, but if you first slide your toes, then your sole, and finally your heel onto the wire, you will be able to experience the intoxicating lightness that is so magnificent at great heights. And then people will say of you: “He is strolling on his wire!” My favourite part of the book, Stop Thinking, walks through hypnosis, yoga, non-thinking, archery and modern rationalism to distinguish between thought and action - “Take a path you don’t know, to reach an unknown place, to do something you’re incapable of doing” The people who gathered in Montparnasse formed a sort of foreign legion, though the only crime they had on their conscience was that of being far from home, far from their own milieu . . . Paris had handed over this small corner to us . . . This place for the displaced was as Parisian as Notre-Dame and the Eiffel Tower. And when, like a firework, genius erupted out of this small crowd, it was still the Parisian sky that received its reflected glory. When we say "France," France itself is no more than an idea-une certaine idée-which exists in the collective imagination in its condensed form of "Paris," the international symbol of all forms of freedom, the dream of thinkers and artists. This Paris is evoked in the alluringly titled Le Rendez-vous des Étrangers (Where Strangers Meet) by Elsa Triolet, Louis Aragon's muse-a Paris in which the Spanish Picasso, Russian Chagall, and Italian Giacometti all felt at home, and with good reason:

In the realm of love, what could be less seductive than someone who's trying to seduce you? Seduction is the art of succeeding without trying, and that's a lesson the French have mastered. To escape difficulty, you must stop resisting. Ease will come once you give it a chance. Being in a natural state, such as that of many greek statues, puts us in a natural state of ease, which enables us to stop resisting. Proper posture is important for a variety of reasons, as it helps to enable grace (or flow). Your imagination is at the heart of your life. If you can image something, you can create it; such is what is proven by the arts.

Success!

Yesterday, when I saw the exhibition, I thought it looked great. For a moment, anyway. Too good, actually. That does worry me a bit.”

Read the first two chapters and then save yourself! This book could have been a great 3000 word essay. But as it stands as a whole is shit. It is wordy and repetitive, the same point being made in each chapter with different sporting analogies. Also there are some misogynistic undertones. I know nothing of the sports men talked about in this novel, so can't offer an opinion there, however, I can speak on the two artists that we're mentioned. Ollivier (who claimes to be well versed) idolises the lifestyles of both Rodin and Picasso who are known to have actively abused women and children in their lifetimes. It is one thing to talk about their art and talent, it is another to uphold them as great men whose way of life and philosophies are what we should strive to achieve in our own lives, completely ignoring the harm their actions and lifestyles had on those around them. There is no excuse for this. Ollivier later goes on to spend a whole chapter diminishing a teen girl he tutored to make himself look intelligent. It has the exact same vibe of those Tumblr stories that end with 'everybody clapped'. This chapter may be based on a real interaction but the dialogue definitely is not real, I feel so bad for the girl he was writing about, she was reduced to a 'sexy lampshade'.When the Chinese painter Zao Wou-Ki first set foot in Paris in 1948, he knew only one word of French, one open-sesame that he gave to the taxi driver: “Montparnasse.” He didn’t mean the train station, he meant the mythical place that all aspiring painters dream of. He spent the rest of his life there in a studio very close to Giacometti’s. Chinese by chance, but French by the dictate of his heart. An] amusing and interesting read; even Pourriol’s description of his approach to the material is a lesson in the laissez-faire outlook. Is this likely to change readers’ lives? Peut être pas, but it is fun to think that it might.”― Booklist Even in 1806, I was waiting for the moment of genius to strike before starting writing . . . If I had talked about my writing plans in 1795, some reasonable man might have said to me: “Write every day for an hour or two. Genius or not.” With this piece of advice I could have put ten years of my life to good use, instead of foolishly waiting for the stroke of genius. Whenever I’m able do something without any effort I start to think it is inherently easy, that anyone should be able to do it. This is called the expert’s illusion. The minute you find yourself on the other side of expertise you realize it is an illusion, and that what is easy for one person isn’t necessarily easy for another. You find the illusion of the expert with literature teachers who think everyone must love reading. Or with math teachers who can’t understand why you don’t understand. This is the only thing they find difficult: understanding that what is easy for them is difficult for others.