This beautiful song by Charles Aznavour captures the romantic image of the poor and starving artist on the little hill known as la butte Montmartre in the popular imagination. It's a somewhat sad and wistful song of a man in his late 60s looking back on a Parisian neighborhood that is no more and probably, except in his fond memories of youth, never was.
Probably the rents in Montmartre are way to high for starving artists to afford these days, and they may have moved to squats down in the Marais, or maybe Montparnasse, but the little hill with its crowning glory of Sacre Coeur is still worth a picture or two, I'd say. Here are a few rather immodest examples:
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| a crèperie called Le Tire Bouchon (the pull the cork) |
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| Restaurant Le Consulat |
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| Basilica of the Sacred Heart |
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| Moulin de la Galette |
Other renditions of gatherings at the Moulin de la Galette:
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| Renoir - 1876 |
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| Toulouse-Lautrec - 1889 |
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| Picasso - 1900 |
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