I arrived in Montmartre on a golden afternoon, the kind of Parisian day when the sunlight itself feels like art. Immediately, I understood why Montmartre has long been hailed as Paris’s artists’ haven.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, this hilltop village was the gathering place of world-class painters like Monet, Degas, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso, and so many others all found inspiration in these streets. The Belle Époque era may have passed, but Montmartre’s creative soul remains palpable in every sketch and song on its slope.
Walking uphill, I passed the iconic windmills that once gave Montmartre a country charm, a reminder that this now-bustling quarter began as a rural village on Paris’s outskirts.
Before Haussmann’s grand boulevards reshaped Paris, Montmartre was a refuge for those seeking affordable rents and artistic freedom. Its bohemian reputation took root over a century ago, when writers and painters gathered in Montmartre’s cheap studios and lively cabarets to rebel against convention.
Even today, the neighborhood proudly carries on that artistic legacy, a place where creativity and nonconformity are as much a part of the landscape as the cobblestones. I could feel in the energy of the streets that kind of welcome chaos where art isn’t just in museums, but happening right before your eyes.
The White Basilica Above Paris - Sacré-Cœur
At the summit of Montmartre, the Basilica of Sacré-Cœur gleamed in the afternoon sun like frosting on a wedding cake. Its chalk-white domes and arches towered above me, serene and imposing at once.
Sacré-Cœur is more than just a church – it’s a symbol. Built from 1875 to 1914 and consecrated in 1919, this Romano-Byzantine basilica was envisioned as a beacon of hope and peace after turbulent times in France. Standing before its grand facade, I felt a hush of awe despite the bustle of tourists around.
Inside, light filtered through stained glass onto the massive mosaic ceiling – the largest mosaic in all of France. The air was thick with incense and whispers of prayer, a quiet contrast to the bohemian revelry down the hill.
After absorbing the basilica’s interior artistry, I stepped out onto the broad esplanade in front of Sacré-Cœur. The view hit me like a revelation. All of Paris sprawled at my feet, rooftops rolling out to the horizon.
From this height – Montmartre is the city’s highest natural point – I could spot the Eiffel Tower piercing the sky, the distant spires of Notre-Dame, and the grand boulevards looking like faint sketch lines. It’s a panorama that truly takes your breath away.
I joined dozens of others on the basilica steps, where people lounged and lingered. Some couples sipped wine from plastic cups, groups of friends passed around baguettes and cheese, and travelers like me simply sat in silence, mesmerized by the cityscape.
Here, the steps of Sacré-Cœur double as Montmartre’s open-air theater. As the sun began to dip, a guitarist started strumming a gentle melody behind me, and a small crowd gathered. A talented busker soon followed, juggling a soccer ball with acrobatic finesse, using the basilica’s stone balustrade as his stage.
It’s a Montmartre tradition: on any given evening, street performers animate these famous steps with music and feats for the tourists and locals watching from the makeshift amphitheater. I found myself clapping along with strangers from all over the world, bonded for a moment by the spell of Montmartre’s creative spirit.
Place du Tertre
Just a few paces from Sacré-Cœur lies Place du Tertre, the most celebrated square in Montmartre. Stepping into Place du Tertre felt like walking into an outdoor art studio mid-session.
Dozens of artists had set up their easels in every available patch of the plaza, each canvas capturing a different angle of Paris or a different dreamy scene conjured from the imagination. Tourists and art lovers wandered between them, pausing to watch a portrait take shape or to negotiate the price of a watercolor.
The square has been Montmartre’s artistic heart for generations – once the central village square opened to public use in 1635, it later became the hub of the Montmartre Bohème.
In the early 1900s, you might have found Picasso or Modigliani right here, furiously sketching or debating art with friends at a café table. Today, Place du Tertre still overflows with artists working en plein air, a living reminder that this neighborhood was the mecca of modern art not so long ago.
As I meandered through the square, an elderly painter with a gray beret caught my eye and waved me over to see his work. His name was Marcel, and his weathered hands moved with practiced ease as he added pastel highlights to a twilight scene of Montmartre’s rooftops.
I complimented his nearly finished painting, and he gave a proud, gap-toothed grin. In halting English (and my far worse French), we chatted. Marcel told me he’s painted in Place du Tertre for over 30 years, carrying on a family tradition – his father had sold paintings here in the 1960s when tourists were fewer and the artists’ square was more of a locals’ secret. “Montmartre is changing,” he said, “but we artists, we keep its soul.” As he spoke, I imagined the lineage of painters before him, from the Impressionists to post-war sketch artists, all adding their colors to Montmartre’s story.
I couldn’t resist the temptation to sit for a quick portrait myself. Within minutes, another artist had propped up a blank page on his easel, eyeing me keenly and then flicking his pencil in swift strokes.
The experience was both nerve-wracking and delightful – holding still on a wobbly stool in the middle of a busy square while strangers peeked over the artist’s shoulder to watch my face emerge on paper. When he finished, I had a charming charcoal sketch of myself as a keepsake. It may not be a Picasso, but it’s undeniably Montmartre.
Around the square, the cafés and bistros brimmed with people savoring the moment. I noticed the historic red awning of Le Consulat at one corner – one of Montmartre’s oldest cafés, known for serving artists and intellectuals over the decades. I took a seat at an outside table under its crimson canvas.
A friendly waiter brought me a café crème in a little cup and an indulgent slice of tarte tatin. As I sipped and watched the swirl of activity on Place du Tertre, I felt transported. The clink of spoons against porcelain, the murmur of conversations in a dozen languages, the shuffle of painters’ feet on cobbles – it all blended into a kind of music.
Here, doing nothing in particular is an art form in itself. I lingered for nearly an hour, half-listening to the street sounds and daydreaming, knowing that in Montmartre, this is exactly what you’re supposed to do.
Cafés, Cabarets and Cobblestones
As evening approached, I wandered beyond the main square, letting Montmartre’s quirky lanes lead me. Every side street seemed to hold a surprise or a story. I stumbled upon La Maison Rose, the petite house painted blush-pink on a quiet corner, once a haunt of Picasso and now perhaps the most Instagrammed café in Paris.
Not far away was Au Lapin Agile, the legendary no-frills cabaret whose very name (“Agile Rabbit”) evokes the playful spirit of old Montmartre. A simple wooden sign with a painting of a rabbit drinking wine marked the spot.
In the early 20th century, Lapin Agile was where poets, singers, and drunk philosophers traded rhymes and ideas by candlelight – it’s incredible to think those walls heard the voices of Picasso and Utrillo, or the melodies of a young Edith Piaf.
Today, the cabaret still puts on shows harking back to that era. I didn’t go inside this time, but just standing outside under the gaslamp glow, I could almost hear echoes of la Vie Bohème.
Down the hill a bit, neon lights and a red windmill signaled the famous Moulin Rouge cabaret on Boulevard de Clichy. Montmartre’s bohemian culture wasn’t only about painting; it also birthed the high-kicking can-can dance that scandalized and delighted Paris.
The Moulin Rouge opened in 1889 and became a symbol of Montmartre’s joie de vivre and artistic decadence. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, one of Montmartre’s most colorful artist residents, immortalized the can-can dancers in his posters – bold, brash, and bursting with movement.
I paused by the Moulin Rouge just as its evening lights blinked on, and imagined the thrill this place created over a century ago. While the modern Moulin Rouge is a polished show for tourists, the spirit of cheeky, bohemian revelry that it represents still feels woven into Montmartre’s fabric.
Everywhere I walked, there were street performers adding to the scene – not just on the Sacré-Cœur steps. On one corner, a mime in white face paint drew a laughing crowd by mimicking unsuspecting pedestrians. Around another, a trio of jazz musicians jammed on trumpet, stand-up bass, and washboard, turning the street into a spontaneous concert.
Even the walls of Montmartre exude creativity: I passed impromptu graffiti murals and saw whimsical mosaics embedded in the sides of buildings. Montmartre’s art isn’t confined to galleries; it spills out for all to enjoy.
One particularly poetic moment came as I strolled along Rue des Saules, a lane that dips and climbs past Montmartre’s last surviving vineyard. Yes, a vineyard – rows of grapevines clinging to the hillside in the middle of Paris! The Clos Montmartre vineyard has been producing wine for generations, a holdover from when this hill was dotted with windmills and farmland.
As I looked over the neat vines, I learned from a local that every October Montmartre hosts a grape harvest festival here, complete with music, parades, and plenty of wine. It’s yet another example of how this neighborhood blends art with living tradition.
Night was falling, and Montmartre began to twinkle with old-fashioned lamplight. I made my way to Rue Norvins and found a small, cozy restaurant – its chalkboard menu offering onion soup and coq au vin – and ducked in for dinner. The walls were covered with framed sketches and black-and-white photos, likely gifts from starving artists who paid their tabs with art.
Sipping a glass of local wine (yes, Montmartre’s own), I reflected on how alive this area felt. Montmartre is romantic and a bit ragged around the edges, elegant but also edgy in its own way. That mixture gives it a warmth and authenticity that, in my mind, outshines the more groomed avenues of downtown Paris.
On my slow walk back toward my hotel, I stopped one more time at Place du Tertre. The crowds had thinned to a pleasant hum. Under the glow of hanging café lights, a few artists were packing up their supplies, and I watched one younger painter carefully spray a fixative over a pastel portrait to preserve it. The square was returning to its village quiet for the night.
For a moment, I saw in my mind’s eye the ghosts of Montmartre – the artists and dreamers who lived and loved here in decades past – strolling alongside me. It was as if the cobblestones remembered every story. In Montmartre, past and present truly do collide in the most artistic fashion.
Espace Dalí
The next morning, craving yet more art, I decided to visit Espace Dalí (also known as Dalí Paris), a boutique museum tucked in a lane just off Place du Tertre. Trading Montmartre’s Impressionist legacy for some Surrealist flair sounded like a perfect change of pace.
Inside this modest gallery space, I found myself face-to-face with the fantastical mind of Salvador Dalí. The museum houses over 300 of Dalí’s works – not the famous paintings that hang in big museums, but a collection of sculptures, whimsical engravings, and surreal objects that showcase the artist’s untamed imagination.
Wandering through Espace Dalí was like stepping into a dream. I encountered bronze sculptures of melting clocks and long-legged elephants reaching into the sky – three-dimensional realizations of Dalí’s iconic surrealist imagery.
In one corner, a rendition of Alice in Wonderland captured the curiosity and absurdity of that tale; in another, a towering Space Elephant balanced impossibly on spindly legs. Soft classical music played in the background, lending an oddly calm contrast to the bizarre shapes and ideas on display.
A few children were giggling in a workshop area, coloring their own Dalí-esque creatures – a hands-on touch that I’m sure the eccentric master himself would have appreciated.
Though Espace Dalí is a relatively small museum, it left a big impression on me. It felt fitting that Montmartre, with its history of embracing the avant-garde, provides a home to these surreal treasures.
Dalí, after all, spent time in Paris during his career, and one can imagine him enjoying Montmartre’s atmosphere of uninhibited creativity. Stepping back out into the sunlight after immersing myself in Dalí’s fantastical world, I felt inspired by how Montmartre celebrates art in all forms – from classic to cutting-edge.
Tips for Travelers
Montmartre turned out to be the most artistic part of my entire trip, a highlight I’ll cherish. If you go, be prepared to fall under its spell. To make the most of a visit to this enchanting hilltop neighborhood, here are some tips and insights I picked up along the way:
- Wear comfortable shoes: Montmartre’s slopes and cobbled streets will give your legs a workout. Bring your comfiest walking shoes or sneakers – the uneven cobblestones and staircases are not high-heel friendly. Trust me, your feet will thank you after a day of exploring the butte.
- Time your visit wisely: Place du Tertre and Sacré-Cœur get very crowded by midday. For a more relaxed experience, visit early in the morning or in the later evening. Artists typically set up in Place du Tertre around 10am and pack up by dusk , so arriving just as they begin or toward day’s end lets you enjoy the art with fewer people jostling about. In the soft morning light or at sunset, Montmartre feels like a village again.
- Take the funicular (or not): To reach Sacré-Cœur, you can climb the 197 steps from Place Saint-Pierre or ride the little Montmartre funicular if your legs are tired. The funicular uses a regular metro ticket and whisks you to the top in minutes. I chose to walk up (and later decided to ride down for the fun of it). If you’re able, I recommend walking at least once – that triumphant feeling when you conquer the stairs is worth it, and you can justify an extra crêpe afterwards!
- Stay aware of your surroundings: Popular tourist spots inevitably attract pickpockets. Keep an eye on your belongings, especially around busy Sacré-Cœur steps or in crowded metro stations. While soaking in the view from the basilica, I was gently reminded by a Parisian local to mind my bag – good advice anywhere, but especially in places where you might be distracted by the scenery or street shows.
- Bring out your inner artist: Don’t just admire the art – get involved! Consider having your portrait drawn at Place du Tertre for a one-of-a-kind souvenir. It’s a wonderful way to interact with local artists (negotiate a price beforehand). If drawing isn’t your thing, try a photography stroll. Montmartre is incredibly photogenic with its street murals, vine-draped houses, and panoramas, so have your camera or phone handy for those candid artsy shots.
- Indulge in café culture: Take the time to sit at a sidewalk café like Le Consulat or La Mère Catherine and watch the world go by. It might be a bit pricier due to the location, but nursing a coffee or a glass of wine while observing painters and passersby is integral to the Montmartre experience. Plus, you never know – you might strike up a conversation with a local or a fellow traveler and hear their story.
- Explore beyond the hotspots: While Sacré-Cœur and Place du Tertre are must-sees, some of Montmartre’s magic lies in its quiet backstreets. Wander down rue des Abbesses for boutique shops and bakeries, seek out the Love Wall (Le Mur des Je t’aime) in Jehan Rictus Square to see “I love you” written in 250 languages, or find the hidden stairways and alleys that evoke Montmartre’s village past. Every turn can reveal a hidden gallery, a vintage bookstore, or a charming view that most tourists miss.
- Feel the bohemian night: In the evenings, consider catching a cabaret show or some live music. If the high-kicks of Moulin Rouge aren’t your style, there are smaller music venues and jazz clubs in Montmartre that continue the tradition of live performance. Or simply grab a bottle of wine and join the mix of people on the Sacré-Cœur steps for an informal nighttime picnic with a view of Paris sparkling below.
Montmartre has a way of engaging all your senses. The sight of artists at work, the sound of musicians on the breeze, the taste of a crusty baguette from a corner boulangerie, the scent of chestnuts roasting in winter, and the feel of old stone under your feet. It’s a feast of experiences that together create an atmosphere unlike anywhere else.
Conclusion
On my final day in Paris, I realized that Montmartre had imprinted itself on me in much the same way its artists imprint paint on canvas. There’s a certain feeling you get in Montmartre, a blend of freedom, inspiration, and nostalgia – that lingered with me long after I descended that hill.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that so many dreamers walked here before, or the way the community still fiercely protects its artsy, village character amid a modern city. Whatever the reason, my visit to Montmartre was undeniably the most artistic part of my trip. It wasn’t just sightseeing; it was an immersion into a creative way of life.
If Paris is a grand oil painting, then Montmartre is the swirling, vivacious corner where the artist really cut loose, full of texture, passion, and stories in every stroke.
And having stepped into that corner of the canvas, even for a short while, I felt not just like an observer of art, but a participant in it. Montmartre will do that to you.
It invites you in, hands you a metaphorical paintbrush (or perhaps a real one), and says: Create, explore, enjoy. In Montmartre, la vie est belle - life is beautiful - and art is simply a way of life.
