Vax passports and “Le Salon des Refusés”
I’m a feisty American who lives in what was once feisty France. The same feisty France that produced my hero Edouard Manet, one of the maverick artists that paved the way for Impressionism in the 1800s. While Impressionism seems mainstream, its beginnings were far from it. Art at the time had to adhere to a number of strict rules that were established by l’Académie: one had to do with the subject and the context of the painting (aka “the hierarchy of genres”, usually religious or mythological themes), another referred to the layout of paintings’ elements, (the neoclassical triangle was preferred). So it was no surprise that Manet’s Déjeuner sur l’herbe, which took a piss at the Académie with his incongruous and provocative subject matter in a perfect neoclassical format, would raise a few eyebrows. Two fully-clothed men are picnicking with a naked woman cheekily gazing at the viewer beyond — at us. How dare she? She’s is not allowed to be naked- only Greek goddesses are allowed to bare all. And what’s with that provocative stare? Nope, this was not going to make it into the official Academic Salon exhibition.
Manet was not alone. As artists turned to painting “unsavory” things like prostitutes or farmers and experimenting with “shocking” techniques like visible brushwork, more and more works were being rejected. In 1863, 1200 entries were shunned by the snooty Académiciens, enough to catch the attention of Emperor Napolean III. Seeing a PR opportunity, he decided to set up an exhibition for all these rejects, christening it Le Salon des Refusés. That marked the beginning of art’s most exciting movements like Impressionism, Fauvism, and Cubism.
So as you see, being an outsider can be a good thing. It allowed these artists to break away from the dull chains of the Académie. The same holds true for all of us. When you get pushed out, you must depend on yourself, trust your instincts and forge your own path. The shock of no longer being a part of the tribe is handsomely compensated by the myriad opportunities that lie beyond the pale. This is where creativity can flourish.
Let’s get back to that feisty American in France. If you know me, I have rarely turned down an invitation to hit the streets in protest. From the US invasion of Afghanistan and Julian Assange to Climate Change and the Yellow Vest movement, I have been out there with my signs and whistles, yelling until I would get hoarse. So it was only natural that I would partake in the latest marches against this medical apartheid we are now experiencing. However, I’m no longer convinced that demonstrating is the way to go. The greater the threat a march has on the Establishment, the more pushback from the riot police and the media. While the climate marches in provincial Metz were quaint, the Yellow Vest protests in Paris were among the most frightening I’ve ever attended. So, either a demonstration will be smiled at/ignored or crushed. Early on during our first confinement in 2020, I felt the time was ripe for a general strike; and yet, after nearly two years of lockdowns, curfews, masks, QR codes and the never-ending game of Simon Says, we haven’t found the cojones to really stick it to the man.
It was on a dreary July day when President Macron drew his dictatorial line in the sand announcing harsh Covid measures that I realized that marching might not be enough. Nevertheless, the next day , which was ironically the day before the anniversary of the French revolution, I joined a small cluster of stunned people in the rain. I had heard about some local groups that were forming on social media that were seeking to change the paradigm, so I used this march (and others afterward) to start recruiting members- even though I wasn’t sure what I was recruiting for.
Macron came down on the French once again a month later. Whereas the July restrictions mostly impacted healthcare workers, the August edict affected pretty much everybody. Right in the middle of the sunny summer hols, he decided that people needed to have a QR code to go to a restaurant, sporting facility, museum, concert, the cinema, or even have a drink at an outdoor café. This meant that we either had get the jab or have a swab shoved up our noses. As none of those options appealed to me, I opted out…but that meant being excluded from society. I felt like a pariah, a leper. I quickly realized that I wasn’t alone: participation at the protests in France grew in size, number, and frequency. Even those on vacation at the seaside or the mountains went to the nearest protest they could find. I’d never seen so many people out in the streets, especially during the usually deserted month of August.
Macron could care less.
Our president, who came into power as a supposed “unifier of the people” (in supposed contrast to his far-right opponent, Marine Le Pen), doubled down on his authoritarian rhetoric. The biggest blow came on Jan 5th, when “the unifier of the people” lobbed his latest salvo at the French, essentially saying that he’d make it a living hell for the unvaccinated. This was actually a blessing in disguise, as it woke up many of those who had obeyed each new arbitrary mandate little Napolean imposed on them. It boosted attendance at the protests, which were waning as people were getting both weary and cold. The irony is that Macron ended up being a true unifier- people from all walks of life- jabbed or not- were now joining in peaceful protest in increasing numbers.
Confronted with the real possibility that my leisure activities would take a hit for a certain time, I learned to adapt. Let me take that back- I actually started adapting at the very beginning of our first confinement in March 2020. I would piece together personal release forms to stay out longer than the one hour we were permitted. I “loitered” in front of my own house to soak up the vitamin D (the police hassled me at first, but eventually gave up). I played tennis with a friend in the street or against the wall of the neighboring apartment complex. I invited neighbors over for a glass of wine. I had musician friends come over for impromptu jam sessions. I tended to our little community garden, which became my lifeline with nature (we weren’t allowed to go to parks then).
Later, with the QR codes in place, I found other ways to raise my vibration with human connection and light. One of the more creative responses to this dilemma was “tennis without a net”. Now excluded from playing at my tennis club, I and my unjabbed tennis buddy took to the run-down public court. Playing without a net turned out to be a very deep experience: we benefitted from extended, obstacle-free play all while imagining there was a net. Without that net impeding us, our rallies that went on and on, with the ball landing deep in each other’s court. We got an hour’s workout in 45 minutes. Talk about a lemonade-from-lemons moment!
I’ve had other kifs- French slang for something that gives pleasure- which have included new friendships, a new home, greater job satisfaction, and a deeper understanding of who I am. None of this wouldn’t have been possible without the crazy Covid policies thrust upon us. Had I not been pushed into this situation, perhaps I wouldn’t have ever evolved.
In fact, this so-called pandemic has made me and many of my friends to rethink society as a whole. The old systems that got us into this mess need to be gutted: education, healthcare (whatever that means), banking, insurance, finance, media, logistics, agriculture, manufacturing, elderly care, energy, the judiciary, the government, and so on . IT ALL HAS TO GO. Some of them, like banking, should stay in the scrap heap. Others, like healthcare and education, need a complete overhaul. I freak out some of my near and dear when I say this. “So you want ANARCHY?”, they say, aghast. “Yeah”, I guess so,” I reply. But unlike the molotov-cocktail-throwing image that we have all been conditioned to believe, anarchy really boils down to us weaning ourselves off of our addiction to heroes that will save us and coming up with our own solutions. Government policy has failed us miserably: I think it’s high time to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and start building the world we want to live in. There are a lot of brilliant people with brilliant (and sometimes surprisingly simple) ideas that are ready to be implemented; ideas that will benefit all of mankind, but even the smallest contribution counts. This is a collective endeavor, which is what makes it so beautiful.
As for me, I’m going to save our education system. Toodle loo!
