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PARIS — There’s a present-day answer to the question that was posed in verse by the French medieval poet and street brawler François Villon: “Where are the snows of yesteryear?”

They’re right here, in high summer, on Paris’ oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf, where an enormous art installation, a trompe l’oeil inflatable snow-clad mountain range, has arisen over the river Seine.

Using about 200,000 square feet of printed fabric, Paris-born street artist JR has created “La Caverne du Pont Neuf.” It’s his version of and homage to the innovative work of groundbreaking environmental artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude.

They’re the fabled duo who first wrapped the arches of this same bridge in straw-colored fabric in 1985. Over the years, they also surrounded 11 islands in Florida’s Biscayne Bay with flamingo-pink cloth, hung saffron-colored fabric “gates” in New York’s Central Park, installed a “running fence” of billowing white material across nearly 25 miles of Sonoma and Marin counties and, in 1991, planted 3,100 yellow umbrellas, blooming like 20-foot-tall poppies, through the Tejon Pass north of L.A.

I interviewed Christo in 2011, and he was eloquent about how his and his wife’s work alters perceptions of nature, and about the deliberately transient character of the art itself. JR, an acolyte of their work, told me in an email that “an ephemeral artwork forces you to come now, and usually to come with other people. The visit becomes a shared moment … and this moment becomes a memory.”

In a city celebrated for artworks that have survived for centuries, this installation was very nearly too transient. A kooky hailstorm in late May, a heat wave in June, followed by ruthlessly ripping winds, delayed the opening by days. At last, beginning one midnight, the air pumps began and the work arose like a limestone-colored soufflé. It will be open around the clock until June 28.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. Back in 1985, Christo’s engineer on the Pont Neuf project, Ted Dougherty, pointed out that above 25 mph, “wind is not our friend.”

The piece works from two vantage points: from afar — visible from a lot of central Paris — and also from inside it, in the “cave” part. Pedestrians crossing the bridge pass through a fabricated interior, a cavern-like space printed in 3D realism and enhanced with a specially designed scent to evoke the dank, earthy aroma of humankind’s early habitations.

JR and Thomas Bangalter in “La Caverne du Pont Neuf” in Paris.

(Tara-Jay Bangalter)

JR intended it to be both. “From the start I designed two works in one. There is the silhouette — what you catch from the quais, from the bridges, from a boat on the Seine or simply walking past on your way somewhere else. That image belongs to everyone, including the people who never chose to look at art that day.”

And then, he said, “there is the inside, which is slower and more intimate, almost in the dark, hard to photograph.” That aspect is “a journey to cross the bridge, to go from darkness to light.”

When Christo and Jeanne-Claude wrapped the arches of the Pont Neuf more than 40 years ago, it took years of planning and permits to make it happen. “La Caverne du Pont Neuf” was a breeze by comparison.

JR, whose other vast outdoor works have delivered double-takes of humans’ scale and their architecture, told me that cities have come to understand “that public art brings people together and that the image travels around the world. Once Christo showed it could be done safely and beautifully, the conversation changed. It was much easier for me to have my project accepted, thanks to them. They also proved the economic positive impact to the cities they worked in. I believe there should be more large-scale, ambitious public art projects.”

It’s one thing to conceive of such a project and another altogether to make it happen — so much technology, compared to, say, mixing paints and choosing a paintbrush. But the science that “La Caverne” required “is the art, not an obstacle to it,” JR said.

“Trompe l’oeil turns adults back into children,” JR said.

(Elea Jeanne Schmitter)

All the canvas, the engineering, the meticulous assembly, the permits — “none of that is preparation for the work, it is the work. Christo taught me this. The process is visible, and even more after the storm we experienced a couple of days before opening to the public. Nature always reminds you who is in charge. When the wind tore the canvas before we opened, we took it down, re-sewed it, reinforced it,” all in full public view.

“Where I stay careful is in not letting the technology become the subject. The augmented reality by Snap’s AR Studio adds to the project, doesn’t take you away from it.”

That air should be JR’s vital collaborator — no complex and costly scaffolding for these magic mountains — is nothing new in Paris.

The first free flight of humans above the earth, on Nov. 21, 1783, sent aloft two men in a hot-air balloon crafted by the Montgolfier brothers from silk fancifully painted in blue and gold with figures of the zodiac. It wafted across Paris for about 25 minutes at about 3,000 feet. Ephemeral, yes — and unforgettable.

Artists and couturiers are fond of the whimsy of trompe l’oeil, the trick of the eye, the illusion of reality. I am a sucker for it, for fashion like that of clothing designer Elsa Schiaparelli. JR has used it often, as a massive-scale magical deception to make the Louvre Pyramid “disappear” into the old Louvre, and opening up an imaginary subterranean world below the Eiffel Tower.

“Trompe l’oeil turns adults back into children,” he told me. “You know it isn’t real, you know that ‘La Caverne du Pont-Neuf’ is not made of rock, that this is printed canvas. And yet your eye wants to believe it, and for a moment you let yourself. That gap between knowing and believing is where the play happens, and people love being inside that gap.”

David Hockney, the innovative and prolific British artist who arrived in Los Angeles in 1964, soon celebrating its sun-drenched life and landscapes in colorful, wildly popular paintings, has died.

He was 88.

Calling himself “an English Los Angeleno,” Hockney immortalized the city’s sparkling swimming pools, palm trees and beautiful young men, then went on to experiment with intricate photo collages, portrait suites, painted and filmed images of Yorkshire landscapes, iPad drawings and more.

Since his Pop Art paintings in the early ‘60s at London’s Royal College of Art, Hockney was rarely out of the limelight and, more important, rarely out of fresh ideas for how to draw, paint, film, print, photograph or otherwise express his creativity. The David Hockney Foundation owns more than 8,000 of his works, including about 200 sketchbooks, more than 230 self-portraits, opera designs and portraits of family and friends.

Hockney loved Hollywood — the people and the place — and liked to say he was brought up in England and Hollywood because of the time he spent at the movies. His peroxide blonde hair reportedly was inspired when he was a student and saw Clairol TV ads claiming “blondes have more fun.” But it was his interest in everything from Elvis Presley to the Hubble Space Telescope and his sense of humor that set him apart. Time Magazine art critic Robert Hughes once called him “the Cole Porter of modern art.”

He was open about being gay, even when homosexuality was outlawed in Britain. His early love affair with artist Peter Schlesinger, a younger man he met when teaching a summer drawing class at UCLA in 1966, inspired Hockney’s monumental 1972 painting “Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures),” a centerpiece of Jack Hazan’s 1974 film “A Bigger Splash.” The painting’s 2018 auction at Christie’s drew a record $90 million for a living artist.

He was a dedicated reader and student of art, paying homage in his work to Picasso and Cubism as well as to Monet, Matisse, Van Gogh and Cezanne. A lover of opera, he often had it playing loudly in the studio and enjoyed taking visitors on curated car trips through the Hollywood Hills or Malibu while listening to Wagner. He designed sets for major companies in Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, London and elsewhere over the years, and some of his set models were later shown in museums.

David Hockney’s work “Gregory in the Pool (Paper Pool 4)” is part of his solo exhibition “David Hockney: Perspective Should Be Reversed” at the Palm Springs Art Museum in Palm Springs. (Courtesy of the Palm Springs Art Museum)

(Courtesy of the Palm Springs Art Museum)

His solo shows drew enormous crowds to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art as early as 1988. In 2017 a major retrospective of his work, keyed to his 80^th birthday, was presented at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, Paris’ Centre Pompidou and London’s Tate Modern. Chronicling Hockney’s arrival as an important artist in the “ravishing” Met retrospective, the New Yorker writer Andrea K. Scott called it “a revelation.” It was, she wrote, “a retort to all the eye-rollers,” including herself, who dismissed his work “as, at best, a guilty pleasure.”

In 2012 he received the coveted Order of Merit, which Queen Elizabeth II presented to him at Buckingham Palace.

David Hockney was born the fourth of five children to a working-class family in Bradford, Yorkshire, on July 9, 1937. He has said he started “making marks on paper” at 8 and received private painting lessons before moving on to Bradford School of Art in 1953. The first painting he sold was a portrait of his father in 1955. He attended the Royal College of Art in London from 1959 until his graduation in 1962 and received the school’s Gold Medal.

After college he did not slack off, noted his biographer Christopher Simon Sykes. In his 2014 book, “Hockney: The Biography,” Sykes pointed out that the artist’s first flat had a chest of drawers near the bed on which he had painted, in large capital letters, the words “get up and work immediately.”

David Hockney in 2017.

(Catherine Opie, Courtesy of Regen Projects, Los Angeles and Lehmann Maupin, New York, Hong Kong and Seoul.)

Hockney lived by that command for the rest of his life, turning out canvas after canvas, photo after photo. In the ‘80s came his extraordinary multi-image photographic collages of friends including writer Christopher Isherwood and artist Don Bachardy and such landmarks as the Brooklyn Bridge, Grand Canyon and Pearblossom Highway.

“The Polaroids started oddly enough when I’d just finished a long period of work in the theater, which is of course playing with perspective and illusion,” he once told The Times. “People say, ‘You are a painter, and photography is a sideline.’ But nothing is a sideline for me.”

That included his continuing fascination with technology. The artist’s long career swept in artworks made not only on cameras and canvases, but on such things as fax machines and photocopiers. Hockney liked to experiment, whether it was with state-of-the-art printing devices or centuries old painting techniques. He went several times to a show of portraits by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres at London’s National Gallery in 1999 and was greatly taken with the photographic’ quality of Ingres’ 19th century drawings. Certain that Ingres had used something optical to achieve that quality, Hockney bought himself a camera lucida, a small device that works like a prism. He then applied Ingres’ methods–as Hockney imagined them–to his own portraits of friends and family, and in 2001, he published “Secret Knowledge,” exploring his theories on early artistic uses of optical devices.

His death was confirmed by the Associated Press and New York Times.

Isenberg is a former Times staff writer