by Bill Andrews, with Marie Dauenheimer & Marcia Hartsock

Why, you might ask, an art and anatomy tour of Paris? Other than the cuisine and wine, there were many great reasons for the trip. Andreas Vesalius of Brussels, namesake of the Vesalius Trust, studied medicine at the Univeristé de Paris from 1533 to 1536. Vesalius, like other med students, is believed to have learned his anatomy by reading Galen and visiting the abattoirs and boucheries of Paris. Among the many relevant sights we would see are the catacombs, the morphology lab at the Beaux-Arts, and the national anatomy museums. We were also to enjoy extensive lessons in art history at the Louvre and other art museums, as well as at the library of the Beaux-Arts. For current events in medical illustration, we would meet with our European colleagues as they convened the 12^th annual congress of the Association Européenne des Illustrateurs Médicaux et Scientifiques (AEIMS).

Thus fortified with reason and passports, and coming from airports around the United States and Canada, our goal was to rendezvous shortly after noon on Thursday, October 11, 2001, in Charles de Gaulle Airport. Et voilà!– troop leader Marie Dauenheimer, Sharon Ellis, Vicky Heim, Marcia Hartsock and Bob Edgecomb (our new non-illustrator friend), Kevin Somerville, and Bill and Vicki Andrews did congregate for the chauffeured motorcoach trip into the city. Our final destination was the Hotel Le Meridien, in the Montparnasse area of the left bank. At the hotel we were joined by the rest of our intrepid crew: Margot Mackay, Virginia Ferrante and David Aldrich. After check-in, a few of the more perky explored the shops and sights around the hotel. The rest of us learned the French words for "jetlag" and "nap."

The official functions began that evening with a wonderful reception at the hotel hosted by the multinational leadership of AEIMS. We enjoyed champagne, hors d’oeuvres and catching up on the news of old friends and acquaintances with Margot Cooper, Antoine Barnaud, Michel Gilles, Giliola Gamberini, Merri Scheitlin-Nordman and Gus Falk. It’s a funny thing, but English, French and Italian sounded a lot alike after a couple of glasses of excellent French wine. After all the toasts and the obligatory group photo, it was nearly 9:00 p.m.–and nearly dinner time in Paris. Well equipped with maps, guidebooks and gals not afraid to ask for directions (and in French!) we set off for a popular Montparnasse oyster bar. Long wander short, the restaurant was too popular by about an hour’s wait and we ended up at a little bistro just three blocks from the hotel. So close, yet so foreign. Friday dawned a beautiful fall day, clear and cool. After croissant and café at the hotel we were off to explore the Paris bus system–the 12th annual Congrès de l’AEIMS was held a short distance away in the École Supérieure Estienne des Arts et Industries Graphiques. Antoine Barnaud, Michel Gilles and Merri Scheitlin-Nordman were the Congrès coordinators. After registration and a review of the beautiful artwork in the Salon, Antoine welcomed everyone to the Congrès and introduced Margot Cooper, current President of AEIMS. Margot officially opened the Congress, saying in part, "It is indeed good to be together on this occasion and many thanks to those who have traveled a long way in spite of the uncertainties and apprehension, which surround us at present on a day-to-day basis." Margot concluded her welcoming remarks by saying, "The theme throughout the meeting will focus on the opportunity in the workplace: it is up to the young student and newly qualified artists to focus on these new opportunities, and I am sure that everyone leaving the meeting will be buzzing with new ideas and inspiration to explore new avenues." Actually Margot said all this twice– once in English and again in French. For the rest of the presentations this day, Merri would do the translations.

In appreciation of the hospitality extended to us by our hosts, Marie Dauenheimer and Bill Andrews presented Antoine, Michel and Merri with printer’s proofs of Max Brödel’s "Kidney and Bladder Stones." In addition, copies of the AMI 50^th anniversary history book and SourceBook #14 were presented to our hosts and to the European schools on behalf of the Vesalius Trust and the AMI.

Next up, Christiane Loisel, the Proviseur (Provost) of the École, welcomed us all and told us a bit about the interesting history of the school and its mission of training students for careers in the graphic arts. She also spoke warmly of the medical illustration program at the school and the program’s faculty, Antoine Barnaud and Michel Gilles. (See sidebar about the Paris medical illustration program by Marie Dauenheimer.)

The Paris School

By Marie Dauenheimer

The École Supérieure Estienne des Arts et Industries Graphiques is one of four public art schools in Paris. It was founded in 1889 for students specializing in printmaking and related arts. It is interesting to note that the name "Estienne" is in honor of the Estienne family who, under patriarch Henri Estienne, founded one of the preeminent print houses in Paris, circa 1502. Some of the typefaces used by Estienne were designed by Claude Garamond. Charles, one of Henri’s three sons, was schooled in medicine. Through the family business, he published a modest treatise entitled Anatomia, in 1536. His major work was De Dissectione, published in Latin in 1545 and in French in 1546. Charles would later manage the family business, beginning in 1551.

Professor Antoine Barnaud started the medical illustration program at the École Supérieure Estienne in 1991. He and colleague Professor Michel Gilles teach most of the classes. The program is two years in duration, and includes courses in figure drawing and sculpture, as well as medical illustration and medical science classes. A maximum of six students are accepted into the program each year, for a total of twelve students.

The program is housed in two basement classrooms. Traditional and digital techniques are taught. There are the usual drafting tables, medical models and skeletons, as well as a few Apple Macintosh G4s. In addition to these departmental resources, the students have access to the medical school anatomy lab, a nearby natural history museum and local hospital facilities.

Time for the morning coffee break. So, we dropped in at the townhall of the 13^th arrondissement (precinct). After brief welcoming remarks by the Mayor’s aide and the Attaché for Cultural Affairs, we enjoyed champagne and light hors d’oeuvres. An unusual coffee break custom, but we had no complaints.

We staggered back to the École for a truly fascinating tour of some of the academic departments: bookbinding, printmaking, typography, gilding, graphic design, and illustration. The art and craftsmanship of the students were extraordinary. With all the climbing up and down marble staircases, we worked up quite an appetite.

Déjeuner au réfectoire de l’École (Lunch, in the school cafeteria!). We dined on a salad of julienne of radishes and kernel corn, crusty baguettes, baked fish in mushroom sauce with roast potatoes, grilled tomatoes and, of course, plenty of good French wine. For dessert there were assorted petit pastries, cheese, and poached pears in vanilla sauce. And to banish the mellow post-prandial haze we finished with thick, black espresso.

The afternoon found us back in the 3^rd floor auditorium of the École for several interesting presentations. Jean-Louis Besson led off with a look at his didactic illustrations produced for the publisher Gallimard in Paris. Claus Larsen then presented some of the animations and interactive multimedia work done at the medical illustration program in Bologna. Matthieu Lambert , a recent graduate of the Paris program, made an excellent presentation on his thesis project.

A quick change of scene for the final presentation of the day– l’École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. We were privileged to have a special lecture by Professor Philippe Comar on the "History and Images of the Human Body." He began with the 1491 work Fasciulus Medicinae by Jean de Ketham, and showed images from the likes of Vesalius and Da Vinci, Broca and D’Agoty. It was a revealing look at the changing manner in which the human body has been depicted over the last five centuries. Afterwards, we toured the comparative morphology collection of the Beaux-Arts. In addition to a number of extremely well done ecorchè figures (one sculpted in bronze by Prof. Comar), there were dozens of mounted animal specimens and skeletons. As a souvenir of the Congrès, we each received a paperback copy of Prof. Comar’s book Les Images du Corps (Images of the Body). It is a fascinating compendium of anatomy, art and history.

Later that evening, we all met on the Ile aux Cygnes in the Seine, near the Pont Bir-Hakeim, for the AEIMS gala banquet–a dinner cruise aboard the bateau-mouche Captain Fracasse. Champagne cocktails were accompanied by a leisurely passage upriver past the Jardins du Trocadéro and the Eiffel Tower. For dinner, we enjoyed a delicious confit de canard with wild mushrooms and roasted potatoes. The meal was complemented by a tasty Gamay. We glided by the Place de la Concorde and Cleopatra’s Needle, the Jardin des Tuileries and the immense Palais du Louvre. Serenely and silently, Notre-Dame, the Ile de la Cité and the Ile Saint-Louis slipped past. There were warm apple tarts and more champagne for dessert. All in all, it was an evening of good food, fine wine and great company in the "City of Lights."

After croissant and café at the hotel we were off for day two of the AEIMS meeting. AMI President and Vesalius Trust Boardmember Bill Andrews made the first presentation of the morning. Do you know what the French word for Mac is?–le Mac. Et voilà!– American PowerPoint in Paris. Bill spoke about the value of traditional art training in the digital age of medical illustration. Professor Margot Mackay showed us all that you can safely use a power converter to run your Titanium laptop on 220 volts. Margot spoke about the art and history of animation and its place within the Toronto program and their partnership with Sheridan College. Vesalius Trust board member Marcia Hartsock gave a fascinating presentation about the "Golden Mean" in image composition. Marcia definitely had the best slides–masterpieces of fine art and bilingual text. AMI Chairman of the Board David Aldrich gave an interesting presentation about problem-based training in the medical illustration program at the Cleveland Institute of Art. We all learned how disconcerting it is to have to pause after each sentence and wait for the translation and… What was I saying?

Many outstanding presentations were made by students from the programs at Manchester, Strasbourg and Paris. We learned that the educational systems and curricula are different in Europe, but the European students are very bright, talented, and creative.

The AEIMS meeting concluded with a heartfelt invitation for members of the Vesalius Trust and the AMI to come again anytime. We all learned a great deal, picked up a few new tricks, made many new friends, and had a wonderful visit with our European colleagues. Maybe it was the hospitality–or at least the wine at lunch–because AEIMS has several new American and Canadian members. After the goodbyes and hugs, we decided to visit the open-air book fair on the esplanade out in the boulevard. Travel tip #1: never buy lots of neat old heavy books you will have to schlep around Paris for the next week. Travel tip #2: don’t believe the travel guide that advises a man to wear his wallet in his front pocket to foil the pickpockets.

Sunday morning, overcast, breezy and cold. After yet another tasty French breakfast, we met Madame Marie During, our professional guide for this day of our Art & Anatomy Tour. Madame was a treasure–a high-energy, art-loving, natural storyteller with a great sense of humor and enough patience to handle our gaggle. Madame now understands the American phrase "like herding cats."

So, we were in excellent hands as we boarded the motorcoach with Madame During. We were headed west out of Paris looking for Impressionists. Along the way Madame gave us a fascinating history-cum-travelogue of Impressionism, the 1874 Paris Salon, the artists and the quaint villages where many of them lived and painted. One of the many fascinating things that struck a chord with us was her assertion that Impressionism was never a "school" of art, but rather a circle of friends who were artists. We would henceforth call our merry band the Tourists.

Our first destination was Giverny and Monet’s garden. Wow! We gained an entirely new appreciation and understanding of the waterlily and Japanese bridge paintings after seeing the real scenes that inspired them. The sun began to peek out from behind ragged, fast-moving clouds as Madame told us of Monet’s life at Giverny and his passion for gardening and plant collecting. (See sketch of the Japanese Bridge and the gardens by Virginia Ferrante.)

While in Giverny, we also visited the Musée d’Art Américain. Founded in 1992 by Daniel Terra, it explores the rich artistic connections between American and French artists. Paintings by Childe Hassam, Mary Cassat and John Singer Sargent were among our favorites. An exhibition of works by women photographers was of special note. No time to dawdle, though, we had places to go and paintings to see–on to Auvers.

Auvers-sur-Oise is a quaint and picturesque hillside town. In the late 1800’s, it was only an hour’s journey by train from Paris. Auvers was home or destination for many artists, including Camille Pissaro and Paul Cézanne. We came to visit the last home and burial place of Vincent Van Gogh. But first, lunch. At a Salon de Thé called Les Roses Ecossaises we enjoyed a delicious lunch of magret de canard (roasted wild duck) and a tasty Côtes du Rhône. (See thumbnail portrait of the Gourmand at Les Roses Ecossaises by Bill Andrews.) In case you haven’t noticed, duck is very popular in France. So is wine at lunch. Madame decided we needed to walk off lunch. First stop: Maison Van Gogh.

Van Gogh’s house was in reality a cramped and dimly lit garret over the Ravoux Inn. However, it is well preserved and the museum is very nice, with excellent historical exhibits and a multimedia show. Madame shared a wealth of information on Van Gogh in Auvers. Vincent, 37 years old and suffering from depression, was encouraged to travel to Auvers from Arles by his brother Théo and Camille Pissaro. Vincent was to seek out a homeopathic physician, one Paul Gachet. Supposedly, the doctor suffered from the same nervous disorder as Vincent (possibly epilepsy compounded by bipolar disorder). Of the doctor, Vincent says he has, "found a perfect friend in Dr. Gachet, something like another brother." The doctor tells him to put his ailment out of his mind and concentrate entirely on his painting. And paint he did! The doctor’s medical treatments were not as successful, however, as after little more than two months in Auvers Vincent shot himself in the chest (or abdomen?). With Dr. Gachet in attendance, Vincent hung on for two days until his brother Théo arrived from Paris. During his all too brief time in Auvers, Vincent painted 70 canvases, including the Portrait of Dr. Gachet. This painting sold at auction in 1990 for the record amount of $82.5 million. And in case you’re keeping score, the 70 paintings that he completed while in Auvers are worth over $1 billion today. Ironically, of the roughly 870 canvases Vincent produced during his lifetime he only sold one.

We also visited the Musée Daubigny, once the home and studio of Charles Francois Daubigny, friend and supporter of the Impressionists and an Impressionist himself. We walked to several of the sites of Vincent’s paintings, such as the church of Auvers and wheat fields. Finally, we finished our trip to Auvers with a visit to the hilltop cemetery, where we paid our respects at the graves of Vincent and his brother Théo.

Back to Paris and another memorable dinner at a cozy little creperie in the famed crepe district of Montparnasse. I say cozy, because the restaurant only had eight tables and we occupied half of them.

Monday morning, there was a cold threatening sky, and things weren’t looking too good for our scheduled tours either. The state museum workers were on some sort of strike. But Madame During was indomitable. While the line was growing longer and longer by the minute at the closed main entrance to the Musée du Louvre, Madame was on her cell phone. After dodging a downpour, we headed underground to the smaller, little-known group entrance. A few minutes later and we were in. Oddly, the museum staff were all at their posts but no one was taking tickets or handing out guidebooks. Madame cautioned us that the Louvre was undergoing renovations and that we may not be able to see all the good stuff. So first she took us to the magnificent Italian painting hall (which is about 14.7 kilometers long) and the Mona Lisa. There, Madame During gently chided us, "You Americans, so informal, always calling people by their first names. This is Madame Joconde." The Mona Lisa is, arguably, the most famous painting in the Louvre, maybe in the world, and so is usually surrounded by a huge crowd. But because there were about a gazillion visitors still queued-up outside the closed main entrance, we were able to "get our noses right up on" the canvas. Thank you, Madame, for your logistical savvy!

In addition to this masterpiece, we also saw other works by Da Vinci as well as phenomenal paintings by Giotto, Ciambue, Tintoretto, Tiepolo, Titian, Veronese, and Michelangelo. After Prof. Comar’s lecture, we payed particular attention to the manner and style of representing the human figure. Madame was in her element when she took us into the French galleries. She seemed to know every canvas like an old friend. There was de La Tour’s Saint Thomas, Poisson’s Rape of the Sabine, David’s Intervention of the Sabine Women and his Conorantion of Napoleon I, Prud’hon’s The Empress Josephine, Ingre’s Mademoiselle Caroline Rivière and his Grand Odalisque, Delacroix’s The Death of Sardanapalus, and Gèricault’s Raft of the Medusa. Madame taught us many things that aren’t in the art history texts, too, such as how the Pompier style of painting received its moniker. And we were fascinated to learn that Jean Louis David, whose canvases are huge, would first do nude studies for every figure in a painting. Only later, after the figures were painted in the nude, would he give them clothes. As long as we were in the Louvre, we might as well see the other stuff. It is hard to express the beauty and power of Michelangelo’s the Rebellious Slave and his Dying Slave, as well as other masterpieces of Greco-Roman sculpture such as the Nike of Samothrace, The Three Graces and the Venus de Milo. Are we done yet? My feet hurt. When’s lunch? Clearly, we had reached sensory overload. We all said goodbye beneath I.M. Pei’s pyramid and went our separate ways for an afternoon of exploring the other galleries of the Louvre and the sights of Paris. Some of us had trouble getting past the Louvre bookstore. The Jardin des Tuileries and the Musée de l’Orangerie, the Palais Royal and the shopping along the Rue de Rivoli were popular destinations. How do you top a day strolling through one of the world’s great art collections? With chamber music in one of the greatest Gothic architectural masterpieces of the Western world. Located on the Ile de la Cité, ethereal and magical Sainte-Chapelle was built in 1248 by Louis IX (Saint Louis) to house the Crown of Thorns and other relics he purchased from the Emperor of Constantinople. The concert was in the royal Upper Chapel, where magnificent stained-glass windows separated by the thinnest of stone columns portray over 1,000 religious scenes. Under a soaring 50-foot ceiling, we listened to the heavenly music of a small chamber ensemble. The program included works by Pachabel, Bach and Vivaldi.

From the sublime to the profane, after the concert we walked to the Ile Saint-Louis for dinner at the restaurant Nos Ancêtres Les Gaulois. This establishment is known for its haute cuisine–if you’re a 4^th century barbarian. Apparently, the Gaulois ate what food they didn’t throw across the room and drank cheap wine out of clay cups. They were also fond of rowdy sing-alongs and Turkish cigarettes. It was a night of contrasts, and we had a great time.

Tuesday morning, crisp and beautiful–a perfect day to go underground, to someplace dark and dank. Madame During would guide us through the Catacombs of Paris. Madame, a certified professional guide, said that not many visitors asked for a guided tour of the catacombs. We responded that there are not many medical illustrators–so let’s go see the bones!

Paris had a problem–too many graves and too little land. So in 1786, the city began a massive project to relocate several million skeletons and corpses to the ancient quarry-tunnels under Montparnasse, Montrouge and Montsouris. The corpses and bones were disinterred and transported across the city late at night, so as not to frighten the spirit out of the living. Over the door to the Catacombs is a sign: Arrete! C’est ici l’Empire de la Mort (Stop! Here is the Empire of Death). We went in, and down and around a tightly spiraled staircase. Some eight stories beneath the streets of Montparnasse, we found bare, dim electric bulbs and low limestone ceilings that dripped water–not a place for the claustrophobic, or the tall. And then we came upon the bones, arranged in macabre and artful stacks–femurs here, pelvi there, and ranks of skulls in between. The bones are grouped according to the cemetery from whence they came. And for each cemetery there is a stone altar for the necessary religious services accompanying the reburial of the faithful dead. Our tour covered just over a mile underground. After the excruciating climb up another gol’dang set of tightly spiraled stairs (Why didn’t I remember to take all those books out of my knapsack!), we were met by large, but courteous, guards who searched our bags for unauthorized souvenirs.

It was time for something enlightening–we were going to the Musée d’Orsay. At least we were scheduled to go there, but the museum strike caused Madame During to switch to "Plan B." So, we ended up at the private (and therefore not subject to a strike) Musée Marmottan Monet close on the west side of Paris. In 1932, Paul Marmottan bequeathed his house and collection of Renaissance and Empire furniture and artwork to the Institut de France. In 1971, the Musée Marmottan received from Michel Monet 65 paintings by his father, Claude, as well as the artist’s personal art collection.

Monet’s most famous painting is in this museum, the canvas called Impression — Sunrise. It is famous because in reviewing this painting in the 1874 Paris Salon, a hostile journalist/art critic latched on to the title and coined the term "Impressionists" to label the new-fangled painters who deigned to break with tradition. The powerful Gare Saint Lazar is there, too, as are several of Monet’s atmospheric paintings of London. Having seen the real scenes just two days earlier, we were quite excited to see Monet’s paintings from Giverny of the waterlillies and Japanese Bridge. We were not disappointed. Any reproductions are small, pale imitations of the luminous originals. Also at the Marmottan are many excellent works by Pissaro, Renoir, Sisley and Corot.

After lunch (no duck today), we went to the Musée Rodin. Originally the Hôtel Biron, the Musée comprises a mansion and nearly two acres of formal gardens, all in the shadow of Les Invalides. Yep, the building was closed due to the strike, but the gardens were open. So we made do with several dozen of Rodin’s bronzes, including: the Burghers of Calais, The Gates of Hell, The Thinker, Balzac, and Ugolino and His Sons. We were astounded to discover that Rodin would often do nude studies of his figures (at size) before draping them in clothes and sculpting them again for the final statue. Imagine viewing the Burghers of Calais and then turning a corner in the garden and seeing each figure standing separately, in the nude and cast in bronze. "An awesome experience," fairly well sums up our visit to the Musée Rodin. (See sketch of a Rodin chalk study by Kevin Somerville.)

The sun was low in the sky when we left. Just enough time for a swing around the Arc d’Triomphe and a few more famous sights before heading back to the hotel.

Wednesday, cold and gray. No matter, though, as we were running late for a rendezvous with our dear AMI friends Merri Scheitlin-Nordman and Gus Falk. Merri arranged this day’s activities for us, and first up was a tour of the library and archives at l’École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Madams Emmanuelle Brugerolles (See thumbnail portrait by Bill Andrews) and Catherine Mathon, both Conservateurs du Patrimoine, were our guides. They described the origin and history of the library. They recounted how the Beaux-Arts amassed its collections of art from both professors and students, as well as from donated works. Learning beforehand from Merri that we were interested in anatomy and figure drawing, they showed us significant examples from their collections, including original drawings and etchings by Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Dürer, David and Gèricault. They traced for us the changes in how the human form was presented, as well as how figure drawing was taught at the Beaux-Arts through the centuries. With art and photography, they led us from the classic mythological representations of the mid 1600’s through the romantic and naturalistic styles of the 1700’s to the more expressive and emotive styles of the 1800’s and early 1900’s. They were also quite pleased to be able to show us an elephant folio by the natural science and medical illustrator D’Agoty. We also were allowed to look through the original photos by Dr. Charcot exploring the muscles of facial expression.

We made a quick stop at the Beaux-Arts bookstore on the way out, and that knapsack didn’t get any lighter. Then we were off to the Jardin du Luxembourg. Merri had arranged for us to see the Raphael: Grace et Beaute exhibition at the Musée Luxembourg. It was superb. In describing the work of Raphael in the exhibit signage, the Italian term sprezzatura was used, which translates to "art which hides art in the interest of a balance between culture and nature." We all agreed, the man could paint pretty good.

After a quick lunch at a small creperie, we were off again on foot–quickly everyone, quickly–to the Faculty of Medicine of the Université de Paris on the Rue des Saint-Pères in the Latin Quarter. We were going to meet Professor Sibin for a tour of the Musée Nationale d’Anatomie Humaine. You’ll know you are in the right place when you see the naturally mummified bodies of an ancient Parisian couple and child in a beautiful old Victorian curio cabinet.

Spry at 82 years of age, Prof. Sibin is the curator and caretaker of the Musée. He holds a doctorate in comparative anatomy. Prof. Sibin is passionate about anatomy and the educational mission of his museums, and he is more than a little concerned about what will happen to them when he is gone. With a sharp rap of his cane on the floortiles and a commanding, "Ici!" he led us through the exhibits.

The Musée is actually a collection of three smaller anatomical museums, the Delmas, Orfila and Rouviére. It is difficult to speak of them separately, since they are adjacent rooms on one floor. Basically, the Orfila contains the oldest exhibits, the comparative anatomy collection, and the curiosities and grotesques; the Delmas contains the embryological collections; and the Rouviére contains the bulk of the normative human anatomical exhibits. There are well over a hundred display cases in the Musée, so we will only recount the highlights of the various collections of specimens, curiosities and grotesques. Although these are anatomy museums, they are also museums of modeling technique and technology. There are mummified specimens in various poses and imaginative presentations. There are wax casts and models, papier-mâché constructions, plaster death masks, even some human taxidermy. Most of the pieces are serious academic studies, but some are sideshow exhibits. Most of the pieces are exhibits of human anatomy, some are comparative vertebrate anatomy. Most of the models are one-of-a-kind pieces, some few are early commercial models by the Tramond firm, dating to the late 1800’s.

In the Musées there are the dissections and models prepared by LeFort. There is the collection of skulls used to prove, and later disprove, the theory of Phrenology. Broca’s brains are there. There is a gruesome collection of murderers and other heinous criminals who had been guillotined. Their skulls are displayed side-by-side with their plaster deathmasks. There are meticulous dissections of the lymphatic system by Laumonier, who injected the specimens with mercury as an aid to visualization. There is a complete collection of human skeletons, male and female, in progressive chronological order from the earliest fetuses through octogenarians. There are remarkable mummified dissections by Fragonard, Dolbeau and Gros. There are realistic surgical models in wax. There is a stuffed dwarf, and Spitzner’s collection of curiosities. The oldest models are waxes from Bologna, dating to the 1600’s. The biggest model is a life-size papier-mâché gorilla nearly six feet tall made in the 19th century by Dr. Auzoux. The most delicate model is an arterial injection (with tissue erosion) of a mid-term fetus. The eeriest is a wax life-casting of Siamese twins, aged about 7 years. The weirdest is the mummified monkey on a stick by Fragonard. The most romantic (yes, romantic) is the Sleeping Beauty in the Glass Coffin, a life-size automaton that "breathes." We spent the entire afternoon with Prof. Sibin, listening to him describe with meticulous detail the various preparation techniques used in the exhibits. He had a story of historical relevance, mystery, or intrigue to go with every exhibit. The Musée Nationale d’Anatomie Humaine is a truly fascinating and unique resource–it is too bad that the current medical curriculum does not make use of it. Merri arranged a truly memorable day for us on our Art & Anatomy Tour. Merci, Madame Merri! Thursday, gray and misty, threatening rain. We were in for an artistic treat–a tour of the home and atelier of Rosa Bonheur in the Chateau de By, in the village of Thomery, near the Fountainebleau forest just south of Paris.

Less well-known today than other nineteenth century realists, Rosa Bonheur was one of the most successful woman artists of all time. She gained international fame for her powerful portrayals of animals as well as her independent, eccentric lifestyle. Possibly her most famous painting was The Horse Fair, exhibited at the Paris Salon of 1853, and now part of the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Bonheur believed that the sketches of her observations were her most valuable resources, not only as references for a particular work, but also to stimulate her imagination. She kept a small farm with stable behind her chateau where she raised a variety of animals, including a pair of lions, her living collection of subject matter. Her large, high ceiling studio contains many framed paintings and sketches, as well as horns and antlers of her beloved animals, displayed just as she left them. Because Bonheur's studio is not a frequent tourist destination, so far there are none of the restrictions found at other famous artist's studios. We had her home almost to ourselves, and could freely take pictures, page through photo albums, and study her paintings and collections at close range.

Thursday evening, our last night in Paris. The occasion required something special–so we started with a wine and cheese tasting at Chez Merri. Merri welcomed us warmly into her home, an amazing reclamation close by the Pantheon in the Latin Quarter. In her generous and energetic way, she shared with us her art collection, her beautiful children and her knowledge of French cheese and wine. A mountain cheese goes with a mountain wine. I did not know that. After the appetizers, we were off to dinner at La Coupole. Opened in 1927, favored by the stylish and frequented by famous artists and writers, La Coupole is something of a landmark. The restaurant décor has been described as "remarkable semi-monumental." We found it remarkable for two things: having the freshest seafood and for the murals by artists such as Chagall and Picasso. It was a delicious meal, with good wine and delightful company–a wonderful way to bring our tour to an end. Friday, cold and clear. Our departures were scattered throughout the day, so saying goodbye was a muddle of hugs and promises of exchanging photos. But we all agreed, it was an excellent trip and a grand tour. Tour veterans (having gone previously to Italy with the Trust) Marie, Margot, Sharon, Bill & Vicki were very pleased to welcome rookie Tourists Kevin, Virginia, Vicky, David, Marcia & Bob. We all are looking forward to the next Vesalius Trust Art & Anatomy Tour, and we sincerely hope you, gentle reader, will join us. What’s the destination? Perhaps we’ll return to the beginning–Vesalius’ birthplace. This trip was a great success, and it is due to the remarkable efforts of a few extraordinary people. Special thanks are due to Antoine Barnaud and Merri Scheitlin-Nordman for their generous advice and assistance in planning and supporting the tour. We will always treasure your friendship and the warm memories of your hospitality. Merci beaucoup, Marie Dauenheimer. How can we possibly express our sincere appreciation for your Herculean efforts? Once again, you crafted a magnificent tour. Thank you, dear friend! Au revoir.

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