Hello & Goodbye

I am declaring the countdown to spring officially on. Some of you in Paris today might think I am a bit premature, but you have to admit that in between the coolish gusts of winds, the sun feels warm and the days are noticeably longer. Walking home today I noticed little signs: the pods hanging off trees and small bursts of yellow and lavender flowers in the parks. Maybe I am feeling inspired from the Jan Dibbets exhibition I just saw at the Musee d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris (this place needs an acronym). I have been a fan of Dibbets, a Dutch artist born in 1941, for awhile. I love his use of simple landscapes of the ocean and green reedy grass which are turned into geometric constructions suggestive of Frank Stella or Ellsworth Kelly. This exhibition compares his early 1970s work to work made in the late 2000s, using the same techniques and landscapes. It's earth art or land art à la Smithson, with less machismo and more poetic. Maybe I am partial to landscape painting in general, and Dibbets in many ways seems like the proper extension out of 17th century Dutch landscape painting--but of course photography and conceptual. It is a small exhibition and worth a quick visit.

2010

It is exciting to be in a new decade but the reality is, it's still cold and January with no spring in sight for a few months, and I am off to a slow start on the blogging front. So what to do? I am going to start cooking more and experimenting with my repetoire. New soups and stews and foods that I can reheat the next day as I am on mega budget. Jamie Oliver is my new friend in the form of a cookbook (thanks sis), and last night I made thai green curry. Not bad but I forgot a key ingredient- the coriander seeds. Oops: It was still good.

One food issue I have here in Paris is: where are the beets? By beets, I mean the non-cooked version that still have their leafy greens attached. I have searched all veggie markets in my hood and they all have the pre-cooked type. What is this? I don't get it and it doesn't seem to fit in with the French approach to foods. Maybe I need to hit the Raspail or Bio Batignolles market, but I wish it was not so out of the way. I love beets and the greens for an all around beet meal. Hélas.

Happy New Year.

Quel Plaisir

I love that feeling of discovering something new and unexpected. Saturday afternoon found me wandering in a small part of the 20th-between Menilmontant and Jourdain. It's an area I rarely get to despite knowing there are plenty of things happening. Following a reading at a friend's studio I took rue cascade over to rue de la mare where I ventured into Beau Travail,, a studio/storefront of several, young French designers featuring printed t-shirts, handmade purses, lamps, jewelry and a few other small items. I had set out to find this atelier, only open on Saturday afternoons from 14-19:30h, and as I was working Saturdays for the last couple of months I finally had a chance to visit. I read their blog from time to time and was curious to see the work in vrai. I didn't end up buying anything, yet, but loved the spirit of the place and will be back: great gift ideas. Afterwards I decided to continue down the street, just wandering with no set objective but eventually to make it back to a metro as the sun was setting and it was cold, when I saw a light on, in an otherwise pretty quiet street and made my way across. In the window were several handmade hats (a minor obsession of mine), and I got a little rush of excitement as I could tell it would be something interesting.
I walked inside and into what felt like and which was, an atelier/boutique and living room. I asked to try on one and then another and then the owner came up to help me and play around-we started trying on various hats, many of which had a 1930s feel with a contemporary edge. They were amazing. A friend stopped in and as I eavesdropped on their conversation I heard her say that they were finishing up the hats for the costumes of the national opera. I noticed then, in the back space some incredible, sculptural hats made with felted fruit and feathers, perfect for a stage. Feeling like I was lingering and afraid I would make a purchase of passion when I needed to be buying Christmas gifts, I took a card, said thank you and made my way back out into the night, pleased to have found such an incredible designer and space--and sorry not to have had my camera! Estelle Ramouse, Chapeau sur mesure, 64 rue de la Mare.

Salon du Livre et Papiers Anciens

Following the contemporary vibe of FIAC, we decided to head to the twice annual Salon du Livre et Papiers Ancien (Books and old papers), in the rather dreary site of Porte de Champeret. This salon is quintessentially french in a very old school way: picture little, slightly hunched, and red nosed men and women, lots of wool and plaid, lots of dry sarcasm and loud joking to one another fueled by lots of wine. All of the vendors maintain a week-long buzz, as evidenced by the 1/2 full bottle on each table.

M and I have been a couple of times now and each year we walk away with some good finds. It is mostly older French material: letters/cards/photos/books but there is also a fair amount of modern things to be found. I was not psychologically as psyched up to go this year because usually we go in the winter, when it is cold, so being indoors and scavanging through dusty paper sounds more appealing. The motivation on my part also stems from the number of incredibly delicious pop-up restaurants. Typically we go for the charcuterie and cheese with red wine, but this year we took in 12 amazing oysters and some petit chablis. Helps smooth the sales. Unfortunately we both foolishly forgot our cameras because there were some good photos to be taken.

Also a shout out to Sartoni Prints, run by Jader Sartoni, my friend Zoe's husband, and who really has the classiest booth of them all!
Through November 1.

Pauline Bordeaux

I first encountered Pauline Bordeaux about a year or so ago at the flea markets in Vanves. She was tucked in between two larger vendors and I heard her telling off another vendor about something or another. I have no idea what she was saying but I was struck by this tiny, maybe 4'7", 70 (at least) year old woman in her soon to be familiar fur hat, holding her own against the younger, arrogant men. I went in for a closer inspection and saw that she was selling her own paintings. She turned on the charm as I walked up, becoming experienced saleswomen she clearly was. Using small 4 x 6" pieces of cardboard, she paints small landscapes of countryside scenes, perhaps with a disproportionately sized cow or horse floating in the background, or scenes of children playing on a beach (but wearing the sailor type uniforms and bow ties reminiscent of the early 20th century), or sometimes just close-ups of animals or flowers. The colors are usually muted due to the cardboard support which sucks all the shine, but they are sweet and folky and I was smitten. For 10 Euros I took home the first of my now four Pauline Bordeaux paintings, for after that, any brocante or antiques fair, whether it was 5 degrees or 20 degrees (Celsius), there she was, working away, on her feet for probably 6-9 hours. I couldn't help but build up fantasitc ideas about her: maybe she lived in some grand hotel particulieur in the 8th, maybe she had numerous lovers including de Gaulle, but in reality I imagine she lives a pretty hard life as an artist, considering her dedication to her craft. Recently I worked up the courage to talk with her and at the last brocante around the Parc de Batignolles I had M take some great photos. So keep an eye out for her on your next flea market or antiques fair and spend that extra 10 euros--you never know she could be the next great thing.

unusual monuments

Paris is full of monuments as we well know-particularly and most prominently are the war memorials. It seems you can turn a corner and see some stone or (or bronze) faced "hero" on their horse or in strapping pose reminding us of some war "well fought." Napoleon and WWII monuments seem to be the most prevalent, but after living here for awhile now I have to confess I barely pay attention anymore. However this smallish bronze pedestal that I cam across in St. Ouen, a small "suburb" just outside the north of Paris, near the flea markets of St. Ouen, grabbed my attention. I was on my way to see M's new atelier and was kind of taking in the area when I saw it tucked into a small park full of blooming cherry blossom trees, the only sign of beauty in what seemed to be a rather gray, industrial town. The monument is dedicated to a small convoy of French citizens who were deported to Auschwitz, but I don't think the only French victims of this horror? Why here in this tiny little park just off of nowhere? Was it because it was a road leading outside of Paris? Maybe the small convoy they mention in the plaque were of people who once lived in this area which now, coincidentally I guess, seems to be a very Arab neighborhood. I couldn't grasp it from the text here, but in any case found it all quite strange and interesting.

springtime hoorah

One glorious week of sunshine in Paris. It may get chilly again but spring is here...

Funny

This is the promotional poster for French comedian Thomas Ngijol. He is hysterical. A bit dry and biting but pretty good and I love this image. I saw him once on the Grand Journal on Canal+. He came on to do his routine on a day when Sarkozy was the invited guest and before he started he went up to le president and showed him his legal french papers...just to clarify and issues or concerns he may have, Ngijol said. It was great.

Pass Navigo

I have to rant a moment on the Pass Navigo-Paris's version of NYC's Metro card or London's Oyster Card. After much procrastination I finally dealt with myself and got the Navigo. I was so excited to charge her up and not have to think about those damn little carnets anymore. But how disappointed I was, after several minutes of denial/cursing/frustration when I realized that (mid week and mid-month), you can only charge week (16.80 Euros) or month (55+ Euros)--and this doesn not imply say Wednesday to Wednesday or Mid-Feb to Mid- March, but at the first of each. How can this be? If anyone reads this and can enlighten me I will be grateful. Frankly with this system I will loose money because I don't commute everyday and try to avoid metro's when I can, especially when it is nice out. I want to put 30 Euros on the Navigo and use it for 2 months if I want to. Why is this not the case as it is in NYC and London? Another false trap of French bureaucracy. Tant pis.

Medecine Douce

As much as I love the feel of Canal St. Martin, I can't help but be a little disappointed when, from time-to-time, I wander around there. Nothing much has developed during the last year and it still feels at a cross-roads-verging on something but remaining kind of flat. There is the new, beautiful APC store which no doubt caters to the well-off 30s-40s crowd that always seems to float around there, and there are some good restaurants; plus the opening of Galerie Impaire on rue, Lancry last year was a nice addition. Maybe I expect the New York pace of things when in a year a neighborhood or street is in and out. I should relax and just keep checking things out, hoping to discover something interesting, like I did last week with the small jewelry store, Medecine Douce, 10, rue Marseille. A beautiful store with workshop/studio attached, offers lovely everyday-pieces ranging from long, loopy gold chains, dangling earrings with small smooth stones, patina rings with semi-precious stones. The items are well priced, particularly considering they have a new stand at Bon Marche-- so now might be a good time to pick something up--before that changes.

Winter in Paris

Fairly decent snowstorm last night but unfortunately by the time I could get out and try to photograph this mini winter-wonderland, the rain had started and 75% of snow was now gray mush. Here are some images from Parc Monceau. They closed off the sides of the park, only allowing a straight thruway--with signs, as seen below, of closed due to snow. huh? WOuldn't this be a nice time for children to play in a winter park and make snowmen? Apparently not. I also noticed that the small Batignolles park was closed as well...must be the French way. My other favorite sign of the day is "Pelouse au repose," which translates as the grass is resting. Is that really to mean the gardiner is on strike? Who knows? Finally, the first photo (the order got screwed up), is my ode to Casper David Friedrich, 19th century German Romantic artist famous for his solitary man in nature photos.

Americans in Paris celebrate the inauguration

Americans in Paris celebrate the inauguration....

Ode to Phillips

As those who are reading this from Paris know, the last few weeks have consisted of some pretty serious gray weather. Even if the sun shows itself, it's generally after 9am. In addition, our bedroom has very little natural light (tho in these weeks this doesn't exist anyways), therefore, if you love to sleep, as I do, it has been very hard waking up in the morning. I found myself slapping off my alarm and rolling over in pure denial. Late mornings were becoming the norm and this is not a good habit to form--even if you work from home and don't have a boss yelling at you for tardiness. In anycase, it is more of psychological thing and so last weekend we headed to FNAC and purchased the Phillips Wake-up light, an ingenious lamp which slowly lights up in the morning to mimic natural sunlight. (Leave it to those nifty Dutch to think of it).

That first night I went to bed feeling like the next day was Christmas morning...couldn't wait to see these magical results. We set the alarm with birds chirping to give it full effect. Around 755 I saw the light beginning to light up (it starts 30 minutes before your alarm goes off to give a smooth transition). I smiled and closed my eyes when soon after I heard the chirping sounds, a bit disorienting when there are no birds in Paris this time of year but pigeons, but indeed, this was a nice wake-up call. Light and birds. I started to close my eyes and pretend I was in the country, but clearly that fantasy soon ended.

I highly recommend the Phillips for those of you deprived of morning sunlight. We switched off the birds for FIP radio, but that morning glow really helps get you up and at'em. yay phillips.

Jeanette Winterson

I had the great pleasure to see the author Jeanette Winterson read from her early novel, The Passion, on Saturday, at Shakespeare + Co. It was truly one of the best readings I have ever been to and feel lucky to have attended. Winterson is an author who is always on my list of "to read," but somehow, I never bought a book and did so. I now realize my error. Fortunately, I can now start to benefit fully from her gift, and perhaps it will be even better after glimpsing her personality and incredible reading performance. Her website is pretty fun as well. www.jeanettewinterson.com/index.asp

Sorry for the bad photo.

Thursday afternoon

Seeing a slice of sunshine peek out late in the afternoon yesterday, I ventured down to the Carrousel de Louvre to check out the Salon des Creaturs, (design/craft fair), thinking it might be a good opportunity to buy a birthday present for a friend's party on Friday and Christmas gifts as well...well, was I wrong.. wow. it was really horrible. I knew it from the moment I walked in and saw large frosted glass things, and then proceed to do about a 7 minute tour of the whole thing with mouth open at where they even found these people and who selected them to participate? I was so disappointed and now had two-hours to kill before meeting up with friends in the neighborhood. So, I decided to head to the Musee d'Art decoratifs, where they had an exhibition about the history of Sonia Rykiel, who is celebrating her 40 years in the business this year. I am a fan of her work, which seems to only get better with age. The show was a little lacking, the clothes didn't even look that great, condition wise, and they keep it so dark in there you can't really see the posters and magazine tear sheets very well. The best part was a collaboration she did with Andy Warhol TV, where he talks about being in Aspen skiing and all the beautiful people he saw.

After wandering aimlessly for a bit longer, I headed to the quaint wine bar on rue, Richilieu, Juvenilles, where the author Robert Camuto was signing copies of his new book "Corkscrewed." A bit tongue-in-cheek, but the book is a fun read about French terroir and the rise of small wine producers who avoid chemicals/additives/etc. to their wine, sticking to the pure methods of production. The bar had some amazing wines, from some of the producers he met on his journeys in the French wine region.
Books onsale at the lovely Red Wheelbarrow bookstore.

Here comes the sun...

I am calling it: (reference to the election night terminology).. Paris has sunshine. 12:00 noon on Tuesday, Decmber 2. Hooray: As I went to sleep last night I composed severa haiku poems about grayness, which I was prepared to share today. But let's not sour the mood. Likely tomorrow will provide the occassion.

Le 104

Paris keeps pushing right….right bank that is. Moving out from the central core that nestles both sides of the river (the Marais and St. Germain specifically), the 19th arrondissement is now the go-to destination for cutting edge culture. It’s been happening slowly over the last few years thanks to such gallery spaces as Jocelyn Wolff, Cosmic Galerie, and Castillo Corrales… But with the grand ouverture of Le 104, we can safely say that this area is solidly on the map. Awhile-back Avenue Louise Weiss in the 13th made an attempt to open up the Paris gallery scene, but it never had an anchor and was just too far off the map. The 19th makes sense. It’s really not a far leap from the Marais, especially with the Velib, and the cementing structure of Le 104 is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Spanning 39,000 m2, which is like 450,000 square feet, Le 104 will serve as artist residency, performance space, arts and education center for children, and will host a series of events and is open every day of the week. Come spring 2009 there will be a café and bookstore. It intends to a meeting place for the public and contemporary culture—a realm often thought elitist by many will now have a chance to connect with new people and new contexts. It’s exciting and I hope it succeeds. 104, rue Aubervilliers. 75019 www.104.fr

Help Wanted: New coach needed for large national team

Sometimes I find that being abroad makes me more American in small, strange ways. Take for example, sports. I was a big sports fan (playing and watching) up until about 14, when teenage angst took over and other things seemed more important...Seventeen magazine for instance. Since then I would occasionally watch a game with my sports fanatic father when home visiting, or maybe attend a super bowl party, but for some reason I had an affection for the World Cup, when the soccer teams of the world unite in a battle for victory--the first time I caught the fever was in Mexico, in 1998, I happened to be living in a small town for the month that the world cup took place and everywhere and anywhere you turned was a TV and a group of people glued to the screen. Then, coincidentally I was in Barcelona in 2002 and the same energy was all around. So here I am in France, and yes, there is rugby and tennis, which are good sports, but the obsessive nature of Le Foot, as they say here, is addicting. I have become a true blue fan of Les Bleus, (the French national team), which is why I must chime in with a call for the resignation of their apparently out of work theater producer coach, Raymond Domenech. I suffered through the summer's Euro Cup tournament, in which Les Bleus came in about 2nd to last. It was frustrating to watch, particularly after their great performance in the 2006 World Cup. Again, I never excelled in soccer and I am not a coach, but I think I could do better then this guy. His starting players can be all over the place, changing star positions, like he did on Saturday for Thierry Henry in the first half, and he stands on the sidelines with his thick eyebrows and a finger upon his lips as if he were pondering Descartes (or maybe where he should send his resume now). He has none of that jazzed up coach sentiment, and claims to need to watch the tapes after loosing a match, as if he weren't there the last 90 minutes to comment on what went wrong. His attitude could almost be a French cliche. The last couple of matches his job was on the line..if they had lost then he would have been fired. I think that if it is even such an ongoing question it should no longer be an issue. If Les bleus pull it off and get into the 2010 World Cup, which at this point is a maybe, they had best find a new coach and fast.

Watch the closing doors

As a friend recounted her recent horror stories about being on the Paris metro over lunch today, I couldn’t help but nod my head in agreement. The metro of course, is no way to judge a personality, and certainly I have had my share of nastiness on the NYC subway, and she on the London tube, but there seems to be an exceptional lack of respect for personal space in the confines of the Paris metro. I chalk it up to outdated cars. They are too small. It is clear that the Parisian population has grown faster than the city planned for allotting money for expanding the current system. In these older model cars the seats that flip up allowing for the option of standing when it gets full was perhaps appropriate for the days of Victorian politesse, but it doesn’t work in today’s world. On a train packed to the gills it almost always someone between 13-25 who determinedly sits while people clamor around them. It drives me insane. On a few occasions I have become the naggy old lady curtly suggesting that they stand up. I can see them roll their eyes at me like when their mom scolds them. It’s become somewhat entertaining now. There seems to be an issue for many people here about how to move onto and into the train car. You don’t stop at the doors if there are people getting in behind you. You move in and across, whether you get off at the next stop or not. This is just a general safety rule that often helps avoid forceful pushing and doors slamming on people. I think that all Parisians should have a two-week training period in NYC learning subway language. NYC is no charm school and can in fact be worse, but somehow there is generally (excepting the 1st time tourists from the middle of the country), a universal understanding of working around this confined and dirty space which will hopefully get us where we are going in good time.

My friend told me about her run in with a pole leaner with enormous hair. Why is it that people think they can lean against the pole thereby disallowing anyone else to really hold it? There is nothing worse than your hand resting against someone’s sweaty back. I have tried firming my grip so my knuckles get in their back a bit, which often gets the message across, but not always. As my friend was being blasted by this perky woman’s voluminous hair she asked her to please move a bit and was met with a high-heel jammed into her foot. Classy. I also don’t think that the cell phone needs to really work on the metro, at least in the cars, maybe the platform is cool, because though the twenty minute commute might be a good time for you to have an argument with your boyfriend, it’s not really something I want to be subjected to for the ride. The Paris metro has its moments. The boards that read the amount of minutes till the next train alleviates a good deal of stress, and some of the newer train cars I have spotted look like a good omen for the future, but until then, please stand up, move in and watch the closing doors.

Style Pixie

Calling all anglos
(though not strictly), living in Paris and who feel comforted by the
idea of having a hairstylist who speak English...Style Pixie is your
place. Owned by a young Australian woman, Victoria Nelson and aided by
Lexi, who is also a singer, thiscoiffeure is friendly, funky and professional. Set in an artist studios warehouse in Ivry
, the salon is white, open with lots of light. It's a change of pace
and what's more...they speak English, so none of the mega hand gestures
to try and explain what you want, or worse, coming out blond when you
wanted brown. www.stylepixiesalon.com