Monday, September 28, 2009
PHOTOGRAPHER I LOVE: Vincent Thibert
A French Photographer’s Dream World:
The Normandy of writer Jules Amedee Barbey d’Aurevilly
Paris-based Vincent Thibert is a superbly talented and original photographer who creates dreamy, memorable photographs of interiors, people and places.
I’ve known Vincent since we worked together on my best-selling Taschen book, ‘Seaside Interiors’, published about eight years ago.
Vincent photographed a poetic house on the island of Goree, off the coast of Senegal for the book. His beautiful images and his artul compositions added to the international success of the book.
Now I’m bringing you a dramatic new photographic essay by Vincent, one of his very best.
It’s an evocation of the wild and rocky country around Cotentin in Normandy, land of the 19th-century French author, Jules-Amedee Barbey d’Aurevilly. The photographs are Vincent’s movie, in effect, a dreamscape of Barbey’s life, his characters, his surreal fiction, and his still-in-print novels.
Jules-Amédée Barbey d’Aurevilly (November 2, 1808 – April 23, 1889), was a French fantaisist, novelist and short story writer. He specialized in gothic stories, and ghostly and mysterious tales that reveal hidden motivation and hinted evil bordering (but never crossing into) the supernatural. He had a decisive influence on writers such as Auguste Villiers de l’Isle-Adam, Henry James and Proust.
Barbey d’Aurevilly was born in Normandy. From 1852 he became an influential literary critic at the Bonapartist paper Le Pays, effectively promoting Stendhal and Flaubert.
Barbey was a dreamer with an exquisite sense of refinement. Barbey d’Aurevilly was also known as the creator of his own image, adopting a gilded aristocratic aura and hinting at a mysterious noble past, though his parentage was provincial bourgeois nobility.
Barbey d’Aurevilly’s best-known collection is The She-Devils, which includes the cult classic Happiness in Crime and is still in print from Dedalus Books. Most recently his Une vieille maîtresse (An Elderly Mistress, 1851) was adapted to cinema by French director Catherine Breillat: its English title is The Last Mistress.
While a resident of Paris, he spent his autumns in Normandy, where Vincent Thibert’s evocative photographs were shot. It’s a moody green land with ancient castles, rugged coastlines, ghosts, and lots of rain.
‘Rain is the cosmetic of my peninsula,” said the dandy-ish Barbey.
He remained throughout his life proudly Norman in spirit and style. Jules-Amédée Barbey d’Aurevilly died in Paris and was buried in the Montparnasse cemetery. In 1926 his remains were transferred to the churchyard in Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte.
Photographs above: It is on the wild windswept peninsula of Cotentin that Thibert created his homage to Barbey. Among his Normandy locations were the fortress Chateau d’Olondes, the Chateau des Ravalet- Tourlaville near Cherbourg, and the Chateau d l’Isle-Marie. He also photographed the landscapes of Le Cap de Cartaret, and the 18th-century Hotel de Beaumont in Valognes on the Cotentin peninsula.
Vincent Thibert was born in Paris on July 9, 1959. He studied painting and drawing at l’Ecole Nationale Superieure des Arts Decoratifs. For the last 24 years he has been shooting editorial photography, mostly for interiors and design publications including Architectural Digest and Elle Décor.
All photographs by French photographer, Vincent Thibert, vincent.thibert@free.fr. They were first published in Cote Ouest in November 2008.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Diane's Paris Address Book
A Few Paris Favorite Lairs and Walks
Plus—Very Exciting Design News: Jean-Michel Frank at the Yves Saint Laurent Pierre Berge Foundation
I go to Paris often. I’m usually working on a project, and over the years have fallen in love with favorite lairs I adore because they’re familiar and French and chic.
I spend my days as if I lived there. I do research at a private library, visit friends, work, dine with chums in very hidden restaurants, sit with French pals in the inside corner banquette of Deux-Magots or Café de Flore, and always climb the stairs to visit any church I pass (St-Sulpice and St-Roch (Paloma Picasso’s favorite, and where the memorial service for Yves Saint Laurent was held) are longtime favorites) to look at the art.
I stand in line to buy bread and clafoutis at Gerard Mulot on rue de Seine, and my bars of rare plantation/terroir chocolate across the way at Pierre Marcolini, and pick up basic groceries from the work-a-day Champion in the Buci triangle.
There’s lots of glamour, so I often disappear into the hush of low-key book shops (Shakespeare & Co.) or the studious print shop Paul Proute on rue de Seine. It’s about my private passions. Perhaps it is for that reason that I’ve never been to or up the Eiffel Tower. I love driving past, or seeing it at night through a window, but don’t really want to see it up close.
I meet my friends at the Deux-Magots (for gossiping with Jose, I always order the iced Lillet) and have a favorite route along rue Jacob and rue de Seine, stopping in to see Adeline Roussel’s sculptural jewelry at 54 rue Jacob, or Moissonnier furniture on the corner of rue du Bac.
My feet always find their way from the Deux-Magots to Laduree (one macaroon to go, perhaps cassis or violette, orange flower, bergamot, jasmine), and then down rue Bonaparte, across the Seine, past the Louvre, along rue de Rivoli, with a long stop at Gallignani…and then a sweep around Hermes. (Yes, you can wear the 4-way new Mini Kelly Danse as a flirty little backpack…).
I scoot into Lanvin and… by late afternoon I’m longing for Earl Grey tea at Laduree on rue Royale. I always gather with a cozy friend in a corner, and we watch the ladies sashay in swathed with furs in winter and white linen in summer. For me: Earl Grey and the glorious Ispahan, a couture rose-flavored meringue with fresh raspberries and a filling of litchi, topped with a red rose petal that I make a point of eating. Pop! Divine.
Let’s go and look at some of my current chou-chou places.
DIANE'S PARIS NOTEBOOK
Flea Market, St-Ouen
Saturday mornings and Sunday, perhaps, I head early to the Puces—and always start at Paul-Bert and Serpette markets. I have my favorites there.
My two favorite dealers are women:
Rue de Tournon
Marie-Helen de Taillac has found the perfect synthesis of Rajasthan and Paris with her colorful, sexy, lovely, and playful jewelry. Her designs are crafted at the masterful workshops in the Gem Palace in Jaipur, and I’ve watched the Gem Palace specialists in gold and stones handcrafting these glorious adornments. The swivel rings with stones like citrine or aquamarine or topaz are among my favorites. Now she’s working with rock crystal, creating bewitching. 8 rue de Tournon.
Sev-Bab ‘Sev-Bab’ is the insider abbreviation for Sevres-Babylon, the magical neighborhood (and Metro stop) that circles around Le Bon Marche, and drifts with classic, modern style about the surrounding streets. It’s neighborhood-y, not touristy at all. It’s low-key chic, and includes the new Hermes on rue de Grenelle, Frederic Malle’s fantastic fragrance emporium, and a new patisserie.
My route: from Café de Flore or Laduree, along rue du Dragon, turn right on rue de Grenelle (visit new Hermes), a quick visit into Barthelemy cheese shop at 51 rue de Grenelle , then left on rue du Bac.
I admire the pale goods at Blanc d’Ivoire décor shop, and the glorious cashmere and silk robes. Just as I am thinking ahead to a stop at the Augousti design shop, and La Grande Epicerie de Paris, my nose is tickled by the faint fragrance of dark chocolate. It’s a new patisserie.
Patisserie de Reves
I was very lucky to arrive on the opening day of La Patisserie des Reves by Philippe Conticini in early September. I adore Pierre Herme, and love Laduree, but this shimmering new patisserie has a fantasy air and originality that are very captivating.
Imagine: in the center of the little shop is a large round table with chocolate cakes and pastries displayed ‘under glass’ beneath tall clear glass cloches. You admire, then you order apple tarts, orange tarts, éclairs, and a mille-feuille or a brioche, and the uniformed assistant brings out a fresh one from the back.
If you’re lucky, M. Conticini will pop up, too. Promised for November: fruit tarts with violette figs and quinces, and in December chestnut tarts. There’s also a cake he calls ‘Le Grand Cru’—in Samana chocolate with little grains of fleur de sel—and icing as elegant and shiny as lacquer. Suggestion from chef for this chocolate delight: ‘eat it ten minutes after taking it from the refrigerator’. I doubt that you could wait so long!
Musee des Arts Decoratifs: Madeleine Vionnet
I enjoyed the Balanciaga show, the Hermes show, and all the other magical fashion presentations at this museum within the Louvre ambit—but this one is the most ethereal. It’s open until 31 january 2010.
Madeleine Vionnet—unlike Chanel, for example—created custom designs for private clients and never sold her company to continue in posterity. Her designs, from 1912—1952, are presented chronologically in rooms that are almost dark, with gowns and dresses emerging in low light in glass cases. It’s a poetic scene; Sculptural fashions were crafted in subtle colors, with elaborate beading and sculptural silhouettes. I loved the hushed and muted atmosphere around these fetishized designs—which makes this an almost religious experience for fashion lovers.
ASK CHARLES
Charles de Lisle’s Paris Hits
My friend Charles de Lisle, a wonderful San Francisco-based interior designer just returned from Paris. I asked him to give me his Paris highlights.
Plus—Very Exciting Design News: Jean-Michel Frank at the Yves Saint Laurent Pierre Berge Foundation
I go to Paris often. I’m usually working on a project, and over the years have fallen in love with favorite lairs I adore because they’re familiar and French and chic.
I spend my days as if I lived there. I do research at a private library, visit friends, work, dine with chums in very hidden restaurants, sit with French pals in the inside corner banquette of Deux-Magots or Café de Flore, and always climb the stairs to visit any church I pass (St-Sulpice and St-Roch (Paloma Picasso’s favorite, and where the memorial service for Yves Saint Laurent was held) are longtime favorites) to look at the art.
I stand in line to buy bread and clafoutis at Gerard Mulot on rue de Seine, and my bars of rare plantation/terroir chocolate across the way at Pierre Marcolini, and pick up basic groceries from the work-a-day Champion in the Buci triangle.
There’s lots of glamour, so I often disappear into the hush of low-key book shops (Shakespeare & Co.) or the studious print shop Paul Proute on rue de Seine. It’s about my private passions. Perhaps it is for that reason that I’ve never been to or up the Eiffel Tower. I love driving past, or seeing it at night through a window, but don’t really want to see it up close.
I meet my friends at the Deux-Magots (for gossiping with Jose, I always order the iced Lillet) and have a favorite route along rue Jacob and rue de Seine, stopping in to see Adeline Roussel’s sculptural jewelry at 54 rue Jacob, or Moissonnier furniture on the corner of rue du Bac.
My feet always find their way from the Deux-Magots to Laduree (one macaroon to go, perhaps cassis or violette, orange flower, bergamot, jasmine), and then down rue Bonaparte, across the Seine, past the Louvre, along rue de Rivoli, with a long stop at Gallignani…and then a sweep around Hermes. (Yes, you can wear the 4-way new Mini Kelly Danse as a flirty little backpack…).
I scoot into Lanvin and… by late afternoon I’m longing for Earl Grey tea at Laduree on rue Royale. I always gather with a cozy friend in a corner, and we watch the ladies sashay in swathed with furs in winter and white linen in summer. For me: Earl Grey and the glorious Ispahan, a couture rose-flavored meringue with fresh raspberries and a filling of litchi, topped with a red rose petal that I make a point of eating. Pop! Divine.
Let’s go and look at some of my current chou-chou places.
Casa Olympe restaurant, a tiny jewel near rue des Martyrs, is a favorite of fashion designers like Andrew Gn and Jean-Paul Gaultier. Mouth-watering Mediterranean delights, friendly prix-fixe prices.
BUT FIRST: Here’s the most exciting news. Yes, I translated it from the French announcement on the foundation website. I’m so excited I’m just putting it out there.
Next exhibition at the Yves Saint Laurent Pierre Berge Foundation: “Jean-Michel Frank”
Paris - from 2nd October to 3 January 2010
Frank is a mythical figure in the world of decorative arts. Cousin of Anne Frank, he led a life from a noir novel. This exhibition, the first organized in France, proposes to retrace his artistic career. With furniture and objects, the exhibition recreates the atmosphere and particulars of this intransigent creator (!), weaving the connections with surrealism, the universe of Jean Cocteau, and the social and aesthetic revolutions between the two world wars.
I am so excited. I will be in Paris during the tenure of the show and plan to see it as soon as possible.
FONDATION YVES SAINT LAURENT PIERRE BERGE
Le décorateur Jean-Michel Frank (1895-1941) est une figure mythique des arts décoratifs. Cousin d’Anne Frank, auteur du célèbre journal, sa biographie fait de lui un personnage de roman noir. Cette exposition, la première jamais organisée en France, se propose de retracer ce parcours artistique. Autour de meubles et d’objets du décorateurs, l’exposition recrée les atmosphères si particulières de ce créateur intransigeant en tissant les liens qu’elles entretiennent avec le surréalisme, l’univers de Jean Cocteau, les révolutions sociales et esthétiques de l’entre-deux-guerres.
Avec le soutien du Comité Jean-Michel Frank
du mardi au dimanche, de 11h à 18h
Fondation Pierre Bergé - Yves Saint Laurent
DIANE'S PARIS NOTEBOOK
Flea Market, St-Ouen
Saturday mornings and Sunday, perhaps, I head early to the Puces—and always start at Paul-Bert and Serpette markets. I have my favorites there.
My two favorite dealers are women:
Laurence Lenglare (stand photographed above) has the best-looking stalls at the moment. She’s from the Angers in Anjou, so if you’re lucky she might have some of the handsome slate tables from the region’s quarries. I’ve seen linen-covered salon chairs, her own sculptures of heads, plaster busts, Napoleon Iii chairs, and prints and paintings and portrait to take home. Laurence, the Mme Recamier of the Puces, speaks perfect English. Marche Paul-Bert, Allee 5, Stand 241.
Michele Perceval has the chicest and most consistently interesting stand at March Serpette. She favors Swedish country pieces, and her stand is an ode to pale gray, ivory and scrubbed wood. Her chairs and tables are very sculptural, and there’s usually a chandelier or two dangling above this opera set of a scene. Charming woman of great taste. Michele Perceval, Marche Serpette, Stand 26, Allee 5.
Rue de Tournon
Marie-Helen de Taillac has found the perfect synthesis of Rajasthan and Paris with her colorful, sexy, lovely, and playful jewelry. Her designs are crafted at the masterful workshops in the Gem Palace in Jaipur, and I’ve watched the Gem Palace specialists in gold and stones handcrafting these glorious adornments. The swivel rings with stones like citrine or aquamarine or topaz are among my favorites. Now she’s working with rock crystal, creating bewitching. 8 rue de Tournon.
Sev-Bab ‘Sev-Bab’ is the insider abbreviation for Sevres-Babylon, the magical neighborhood (and Metro stop) that circles around Le Bon Marche, and drifts with classic, modern style about the surrounding streets. It’s neighborhood-y, not touristy at all. It’s low-key chic, and includes the new Hermes on rue de Grenelle, Frederic Malle’s fantastic fragrance emporium, and a new patisserie.
My route: from Café de Flore or Laduree, along rue du Dragon, turn right on rue de Grenelle (visit new Hermes), a quick visit into Barthelemy cheese shop at 51 rue de Grenelle , then left on rue du Bac.
I admire the pale goods at Blanc d’Ivoire décor shop, and the glorious cashmere and silk robes. Just as I am thinking ahead to a stop at the Augousti design shop, and La Grande Epicerie de Paris, my nose is tickled by the faint fragrance of dark chocolate. It’s a new patisserie.
Patisserie de Reves
I was very lucky to arrive on the opening day of La Patisserie des Reves by Philippe Conticini in early September. I adore Pierre Herme, and love Laduree, but this shimmering new patisserie has a fantasy air and originality that are very captivating.
Imagine: in the center of the little shop is a large round table with chocolate cakes and pastries displayed ‘under glass’ beneath tall clear glass cloches. You admire, then you order apple tarts, orange tarts, éclairs, and a mille-feuille or a brioche, and the uniformed assistant brings out a fresh one from the back.
If you’re lucky, M. Conticini will pop up, too. Promised for November: fruit tarts with violette figs and quinces, and in December chestnut tarts. There’s also a cake he calls ‘Le Grand Cru’—in Samana chocolate with little grains of fleur de sel—and icing as elegant and shiny as lacquer. Suggestion from chef for this chocolate delight: ‘eat it ten minutes after taking it from the refrigerator’. I doubt that you could wait so long!
Musee des Arts Decoratifs: Madeleine Vionnet
I enjoyed the Balanciaga show, the Hermes show, and all the other magical fashion presentations at this museum within the Louvre ambit—but this one is the most ethereal. It’s open until 31 january 2010.
Madeleine Vionnet—unlike Chanel, for example—created custom designs for private clients and never sold her company to continue in posterity. Her designs, from 1912—1952, are presented chronologically in rooms that are almost dark, with gowns and dresses emerging in low light in glass cases. It’s a poetic scene; Sculptural fashions were crafted in subtle colors, with elaborate beading and sculptural silhouettes. I loved the hushed and muted atmosphere around these fetishized designs—which makes this an almost religious experience for fashion lovers.
ASK CHARLES
Charles de Lisle’s Paris Hits
My friend Charles de Lisle, a wonderful San Francisco-based interior designer just returned from Paris. I asked him to give me his Paris highlights.
- L’Eclaireur and the Piet Hein Eek show at the rue Harold gallery. Wonderful furniture. (See picture of invitation at end.)
- The last Number (N) in collection at the L’Eclaireur men’s shop. Unbelievable detail.
- The upstairs “warehouse rooms” of vintage at Galerie Yves Gastou
- The “Alps” cake molds commissioned for the present show @ Astier de Villatte shop (see picture of the rue du Faubourg St-Honore shop interior, with lamps, below)
- French boys who dress so well in jeans, jackets & wingtips… the girls always have had great style
- Grayed older French men in unbelievably refined tailored Italian suits on their Ducatis
- The Annick Goutal Eau de Fier cologne is actually a reunion. I had bought a bottle on a trip to Paris 10 years ago and fell in love with its almost violent, heavy impact on me. I really am not a fan of strong scents or perfumes in general, this one, I love. It’s clove, tarry old church alcoves, bitter, and heady. from what I understand it’s make up is pure china tea and A.G. was ahead of her time in the early 80’s creating pure, essential & exotic styled scents foreshadowing what seems to proliferate the counters at Barney’s today. It seems it only is carried in the Paris shops, I have not ever seen here in the US, or even on-line…so therefore, on my trip I needed to re-fuel. It will always remind me of traipsing around those cobblestoned alleys…
- Fantastic dinner at Anahi, the best madame in town in charge there…wow. Another great dinner at Pramil… strawberries with cucumber sherbet and olive oil.
- Great construction camouflage at the Louvre
- Usagi { rabbit in Japanese } restaurant by new friend Shinsuke Karahawa…used to be creative director for Dior Homme… very cute.
- Rooting around the basement at E. Dehillerin cookware (see picture of stairs below)
- Cool, contemporary Scandinavian items at Tools Galerie
- The walls in the back room at the flagship BonPoint childrenswear, white paint over sheer georgette
- Coffee at Merci’s used book café with all the ladies out shopping
- Emmanuel Perrotin & Yvon Lambert galleries
Thursday, September 17, 2009
A Blissful Sunday Afternoon in Paris
Secrets of the Jardin du Luxembourg
I usually dash about in Paris. The Louvre, the Grand Palais, rue Cambon, Colette, Drouot, Gallignani, rue de Seine, La Hune, rue Jacob, rue de Verneuil, Clignancourt, rue des Martyrs. I want to see everything, catch up, spend time with my friends, and make every moment rich in discovery and detail.
I’m also happy occasionally on weekends to slow down my frenetic pace and wander around, stop, and as my friend Gwen suggested, meander and linger.
On a recent Sunday, I’d swept through the Paul Bert and Serpette markets at St-Ouen in the morning (missed my friends Andrew and Erick by minutes), chatted to my dear friend, the antiques dealer Laurence Lenglade (very Mme Recamier), then headed back to the city. I had a few unexpected hours to spare before a special dinner.
I decided to go and read the International Herald Tribune in the Jardin du Luxembourg.
It’s late summer: a few clouds scudding overhead. Everything is still, 73 deg F.
I started from rue de Tournon, walking toward the neo-classical façade of Le Senat, and then turned left at rue de Vaugirard. It’s quiet, just a few young couples arm in arm.
I traversed the leafy entrance to the gardens, and in the flickering light, it was suddenly like a Seurat painting, Sunday in the park with Georges.
I walk along the sunny allee toward the Medicis fountain, all the while surrounded by a blur of quiet movement. Boys on scooters, girls on tricycles, beaming grandparents, beautifully groomed parents, promenading Italians, jeans-clad teenager girls giggling, a few joggers, the Senat security officers in neat uniforms quietly chatting, and a white-haired granny or two, all somehow manage a calm choreography. It’s a kinetic crowd, but tranquil, easy breezy. A gavotte, a minuet.
I head up the stone stairs to find a little hidden kiosk beneath the trees that sells exquisite artisan ice creams, and select cassis (deeply fruity, slightly tart, perfect) and an unctuous caramel with fleur de sel. I drift beneath the shade to a century-old band rotunda where a motley and jolly brass band is just starting its oompah sound check (evidently a butchers’ union from Normandy).
As the trombones blare, I wander off in the direction of the grand central pond. It’s the perfect day for toy yachts, with a slight breeze.
Just as they did in 1908 in my postcard, children are crowding around the perimeter of the pond, waving bamboo poles, and watching their noble wooden craft traverse the water. It’s slow progress, but when the yachts reach the edge, the skilled boys push the boats back in the direction of the Pantheon and race after them. Parents seated nearby glance up from their books, contented.
“This is the most pleasant pastime for parents, sitting watching their children playing with their yachts,” remarked a handsome young French father, very Anglophile in his linen shirt and with a cable sweater around his shoulders. “I used to do it as a boy, and so did my father when he was young.”
I’m looking for a chair in the shade where I can read my paper, but then I remembered a Longue Paume tournament somewhere up among the trees. I pass children on ponies, boys careening on Big Wheels, a tennis court, chess players over to the left, and I hear the rather loud announcements of the game. Longue Paume is the earliest form of tennis, played rather sedately with racquets but with a more complex court and rules. Serious men in suits watched as the champions battled it out.
But beyond is perhaps my subliminal destination: the petanque players on their dusty terrain. Here I would truly linger, and do nothing but watch the most repetitious mesmerizing, easy, and pleasant ball game, originally from the south of France.
Imagine, a group of old friends, nothing fancy, gather every Sunday, and throw heavy metal balls at a little plastic ball, the piglet. Teammates sitting chatting around the perimeter call out encouragement or voice dismay, there are good throws and disasters, and the game wends back and forth. It’s easy to understand and score. I take out my paper, read Suzy Menkes fashion reports, an art review, all the while watching the petanque, occasionally looking up as a shout rings out, someone swears (Merde, alors), and a few hearty souls clap or cheer or boo.
Time passes and shadows slide across the gardens. A book review. An antique show. My attention wanders.
All this petanque watching has made me a little peckish. I think about the delicious Bread and Roses café on nearby rue de Fleurus, with their fresh tomato tarts and salads, but they’re closed on Sundays.
I find a kiosk in the park with a cheerful blonde woman making crepes. I go for the simplest, just a sprinkle of sugar, and a squeeze of lemon.
I head back to the petanque. The game continues, and looks like it will be there until dark.
I walk away, past the playground, around the compulsive chess players, toward the pond, and the glorious flowers gardens. I’m in a happy daze, no idea what time it is, the sun still bright.
I find a chair near one of the luscious flower beds, fragrant with nicotiana. I open the paper, the sun hovers, I watch the white flowers flickering in the wind, a jogger makes another round. The sun is warm on my neck.
I think I’ll just stay here forever, a perfect place, Sunday in the park, the loveliness of Paris.
And I’ll be back soon, when autumn leaves turn the park golden. Beneath the trees, the petanque games will continue.
Next week on THE STYLE SALONISTE: I’ll take you on a favorite walk through the Left Bank. And give you some of my favorite addresses. See you on the corner of rue Jacob and rue Bonaparte.
I usually dash about in Paris. The Louvre, the Grand Palais, rue Cambon, Colette, Drouot, Gallignani, rue de Seine, La Hune, rue Jacob, rue de Verneuil, Clignancourt, rue des Martyrs. I want to see everything, catch up, spend time with my friends, and make every moment rich in discovery and detail.
I’m also happy occasionally on weekends to slow down my frenetic pace and wander around, stop, and as my friend Gwen suggested, meander and linger.
On a recent Sunday, I’d swept through the Paul Bert and Serpette markets at St-Ouen in the morning (missed my friends Andrew and Erick by minutes), chatted to my dear friend, the antiques dealer Laurence Lenglade (very Mme Recamier), then headed back to the city. I had a few unexpected hours to spare before a special dinner.
I decided to go and read the International Herald Tribune in the Jardin du Luxembourg.
It’s late summer: a few clouds scudding overhead. Everything is still, 73 deg F.
I started from rue de Tournon, walking toward the neo-classical façade of Le Senat, and then turned left at rue de Vaugirard. It’s quiet, just a few young couples arm in arm.
I traversed the leafy entrance to the gardens, and in the flickering light, it was suddenly like a Seurat painting, Sunday in the park with Georges.
Dot sings: “George, Why is it you always get to sit in the shade While I have to stand in the sun Hello, George There is someone in this dress”
—Stephen Sondheim
I walk along the sunny allee toward the Medicis fountain, all the while surrounded by a blur of quiet movement. Boys on scooters, girls on tricycles, beaming grandparents, beautifully groomed parents, promenading Italians, jeans-clad teenager girls giggling, a few joggers, the Senat security officers in neat uniforms quietly chatting, and a white-haired granny or two, all somehow manage a calm choreography. It’s a kinetic crowd, but tranquil, easy breezy. A gavotte, a minuet.
I head up the stone stairs to find a little hidden kiosk beneath the trees that sells exquisite artisan ice creams, and select cassis (deeply fruity, slightly tart, perfect) and an unctuous caramel with fleur de sel. I drift beneath the shade to a century-old band rotunda where a motley and jolly brass band is just starting its oompah sound check (evidently a butchers’ union from Normandy).
As the trombones blare, I wander off in the direction of the grand central pond. It’s the perfect day for toy yachts, with a slight breeze.
Just as they did in 1908 in my postcard, children are crowding around the perimeter of the pond, waving bamboo poles, and watching their noble wooden craft traverse the water. It’s slow progress, but when the yachts reach the edge, the skilled boys push the boats back in the direction of the Pantheon and race after them. Parents seated nearby glance up from their books, contented.
“This is the most pleasant pastime for parents, sitting watching their children playing with their yachts,” remarked a handsome young French father, very Anglophile in his linen shirt and with a cable sweater around his shoulders. “I used to do it as a boy, and so did my father when he was young.”
Postcards, stamped 1908, are from my personal collection and were found over decades of hunting through flea markets, galleries, book shops, antiquaires and fairs. As you see, a century later, timeless Parisian life in the park goes on.
I’m looking for a chair in the shade where I can read my paper, but then I remembered a Longue Paume tournament somewhere up among the trees. I pass children on ponies, boys careening on Big Wheels, a tennis court, chess players over to the left, and I hear the rather loud announcements of the game. Longue Paume is the earliest form of tennis, played rather sedately with racquets but with a more complex court and rules. Serious men in suits watched as the champions battled it out.
But beyond is perhaps my subliminal destination: the petanque players on their dusty terrain. Here I would truly linger, and do nothing but watch the most repetitious mesmerizing, easy, and pleasant ball game, originally from the south of France.
Imagine, a group of old friends, nothing fancy, gather every Sunday, and throw heavy metal balls at a little plastic ball, the piglet. Teammates sitting chatting around the perimeter call out encouragement or voice dismay, there are good throws and disasters, and the game wends back and forth. It’s easy to understand and score. I take out my paper, read Suzy Menkes fashion reports, an art review, all the while watching the petanque, occasionally looking up as a shout rings out, someone swears (Merde, alors), and a few hearty souls clap or cheer or boo.
Time passes and shadows slide across the gardens. A book review. An antique show. My attention wanders.
All this petanque watching has made me a little peckish. I think about the delicious Bread and Roses café on nearby rue de Fleurus, with their fresh tomato tarts and salads, but they’re closed on Sundays.
I find a kiosk in the park with a cheerful blonde woman making crepes. I go for the simplest, just a sprinkle of sugar, and a squeeze of lemon.
I head back to the petanque. The game continues, and looks like it will be there until dark.
I walk away, past the playground, around the compulsive chess players, toward the pond, and the glorious flowers gardens. I’m in a happy daze, no idea what time it is, the sun still bright.
I find a chair near one of the luscious flower beds, fragrant with nicotiana. I open the paper, the sun hovers, I watch the white flowers flickering in the wind, a jogger makes another round. The sun is warm on my neck.
I think I’ll just stay here forever, a perfect place, Sunday in the park, the loveliness of Paris.
And I’ll be back soon, when autumn leaves turn the park golden. Beneath the trees, the petanque games will continue.
Next week on THE STYLE SALONISTE: I’ll take you on a favorite walk through the Left Bank. And give you some of my favorite addresses. See you on the corner of rue Jacob and rue Bonaparte.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Modern in San Francisco
Is ‘Modern in San Francisco’ an oxymoron?
As the second annual SF20 Modernism Show opens in San Francisco on September 24, the question ‘does San Francisco really embrace modern’ jostles and pummels me yet again. When will we see stunning modern houses by Herzog De Meuron, Renzo Piano, Foster, Nouvel, or Ando, commissioned by high-flyers at eBay and Google and Yahoo!
Pair of c1970 slatted chairs in rosewood and leather by Brazilian designer Jorge Zalszupin, from Hedge Gallery, San Francisco
DATELINE: SAN FRANCISCO Google and Stanford and Intel are just a few miles south down Highway 101. Twitter’s offices are in San Francisco. Facebook is nearby in Palo Alto.
Yes, the Summer of Love happened here. Yes, gay marriages were celebrated here. And yes, we all love one another. It’s all very modern. But do San Franciscans love modern design and architecture as well?
Design students and modern architecture fans imagine that San Francisco — free-wheeling and open-minded and spirited — would be a hotbed of modern design, constantly churning modern ideas, building experimental structures, and filling their houses with Eames and Aalto and Wanders and Starck, and espousing modernist ideals. No, that’s LA.
It’s true there are now high-rises glowering over South of Market streets. Nothing distinguished. Tall buildings with tiny apartments are popular with high-tech brainiacs because these pads are close to the highway for a fast shot south to Silicon Valley. They’re new and trendy but that’s no-one’s idea of San Francisco.
Art, culture, ideas all percolate here. But radical thinking applied to everything from farm food and wind power to bicycles and architecture for humanity has never filtered through to design and architecture. Residents here like the familiar. They want a house to look like their idea of a ‘home’.
San Franciscans protest and raise money for their causes, but fired up voices go home to a cozy Victorian house in the Haight-Ashbury, a grand Edwardian mansion in Presidio Heights, a neoclassical Russian Hill apartment, a grand pied-a-terre on Nob Hill, or a colorful and eccentric perch overlooking Chinatown or the Castro.
Ask Stanley Saitowitz, the most ardently admired modernist architect in town, and he’ll tell you that almost the only truly modernist residences he has built in San Francisco are ones he has developed himself. His work is everywhere but here. Building codes earthquakes, and the stylistic requirements to meld into the existing bay-window landscape have restricted experimental architecture. Saitowitz recently built a superbly sleek new apartment building on a formerly rough-edged street. Modernist architect Anne Fougeron designed an elegant loft building on an edgy alley not far from Mission Street. These clear-eyed and refined modern buildings are few and far between.
What about Google people?
I have spent too much time explaining to New York design magazine editors why there is not a steady stream of new modernist residential architecture or new modern interiors in San Francisco.
What about those creative thinkers, the avid and avant-garde Google people with all their billions, they ask. Where are the new residences of the Apple and Oracle folks and all their gazillions? Well, Steve collects Nakashima furniture. Larry lives in a traditional Japanese teahouse, with a modern pied-a-terre in the city. They’re innovators. They are world leaders. They are visionaries; therefore their houses must be modern and great. No, they are not.
These hard-working innovators were mostly engineers or computer science grads, or marketing geniuses. They did not make their youthful fortunes with the burning ambition to hire Frank Gehry or Richard Meier the moment their first billion was in the bank.
High-tech execs are not style obsessed. Nor would they have had time to study art, design, architecture, or peruse Loos or Wright or Johnson. But some are open to being educated by talented modernists. Recently Google, eBay, and Apple execs are hiring San Francisco design talents like Steven Volpe Orlando Diaz-Azcuy and Martha Angus and Paul Wiseman—but their houses are not dramatically modern, not at all.
Unique asymmetrical stack-laminated dining table in cherry wood. Designed by Wendell Castle, USA, 1979. R 20th Century, New York, NY
San Franciscans Love Tradition
There are signs that modern is beloved. International art dealer Martin Muller founded Modernism gallery in San Francisco three decades ago—and many of his clients are international art connoisseurs.
Therien & Co, known throughout the antiques world for superb period furniture (dated before 1830) opened their 20th-century gallery, Therien 20th, offering exquisite contemporary pieces (illustrated here), most of them one-of-a-kind and custom-crafted.
Today, Therien & Co in San Francisco (now associated with Obsolete) offers only 20th-century furniture and decorative objects. It’s a dramatic transition, and one that reflects lightning-bolt changes in the antiques world and taste.
Therien 20th in San Francisco has superb, singular examples of modern furniture, including the beautiful chairs above. Therien 20th won’t be showing in the SF20 Modernism show—but will be at the San Francisco Fall Antiques Show, which opens at Fort Mason, October 28.
San Francisco interior design Orlando Diaz-Azcuy (about whom I recently wrote a monograph) is a modernist through and through—and he noted for decades that few clients in San Francisco want purely modernist interiors. Finally, at the age of 70, he said recently, he is inundated with young couples with modernist dreams.
Designer Steven Volpe has persuaded his clients of the sensual beauty of Ron Arad’s chairs and the sharp power of Prouve's and Le Corbusier’s tables. He's educating his clients about Marc Newson, Marcel Wanders, and modern Japanese-designed glass and lighting, all shown at Hedge Gallery.
At last there are glimmers that our dear friends who conscientiously rant against industrial food and plastic bags and tuna and gas-guzzlers are starting to embrace spiritedly embrace 20th-century design, or even 21st-century design. Finally the Google and Twitter generation and San Francisco’s fine minds are feeling comfortable with modern furniture. The twenty-first century has finally come home to San Francisco.
Pair of PK 27 chairs in laminated maple, leather, and rubber. Designed by Poul Kjaerholm for E. Kold Christensen, Denmark, c. 1971. Offered by R 20th Century, New York, NY
Hedge Makes Its Debut at SF20
“Steven and I are very excited about being in the SF20 for the first, time,” said Roth Martin, founder with Steven Volpe of Hedge Gallery, the six-year-old San Francisco gallery which specializes in a superb and exclusive selection contemporary and modern furniture, lighting, paintings, glass and decorative objects.
“This show brings a fresh perspective to modern style in San Francisco, and allows us to meet a new group of collectors,” added Martin.
Hedge will be showing ten chairs in a dramatic and graphic staging. Included in the group are one of Ron Arad’s fiberglass chairs, a Rick Owens Curial chair, a Marcel Wanders Crochet design, Joris Laarman’s Bone armchair, and an anonymous biomorphic chair in sycamore.
“Since we opened Hedge, we’ve seen an increase in the interest in collectible modern pieces,” said Martin. “Our clients are interested in new ideas concerning construction, new materials, new concepts, always moving forward. There is a growing knowledgeable coterie of serious collectors. Not everyone wants a Ron Arad chair—but connoisseurs of modern are avidly looking for the trophy pieces.”
Vessels in porcelain by Berndt Friberg for Gustavsbuert, Sweden, c. 1950. Antik, New York, NY
AN INTERNATIONAL CELEBRATION OF MODERN DESIGN AND ART
SF20 - San Francisco 20th Century Modernism Show and Sale returns to the Herbst Pavilion for its second annual show at Fort Mason Center, September 24th to September 27th. Boucheron and 1stDibs are lead sponsors.
Preview gala Thursday, September 24th benefits SFMOMA, from 6pm to 9pm. Preview tickets at www.sf20.net or SFMOMA at (415) 618-3263.
General show hours are Friday, September 25th from 11am to 7pm, Saturday September 26th from 11am to 7pm and Sunday, September 27th from Noon to 5pm.
SF20 features 50 premier national and international exhibitors presenting decorative and fine arts from all design movements of the 20th century including furniture, lighting, sculpture, paintings, photography, textiles, prints, ceramics, silver, pottery, jewelry, art glass, vintage clothing and accessories and all are for sale. New additions to the show this year are Hedge Gallery and Battersea from San Francisco, Docantic from Los Angeles and R 20th Century and Antik from New York. Los Angeles dealers returning are Reform, Downtown, Dragonette, Papillon Gallery and Habite. For pre show information please call (708)366-2710.
Black and white photograph by Lillian Bassman: Fantasy on the dance floor, Barbara Mullen, Paris, 1949. Offered by Peter Fetterman Gallery, Santa Monica, CA
Above images are highlights from the SF20 Modernism show at Fort Mason, opening with a preview gala on Thursday Sept 24, 6pm-8pm. Herbst Pavilion, For Mason Center. Show and sale, September 25-27. For more information on this show, which is sponsored by Boucheron and 1stDibs, go to www.sf20.net.
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