Every first Sunday of the month, Paris art aficionados receive a gift from the city. Many museums and cultural institutions in and around Paris are open, free of charge. Though I believe art should be free and museums should admit their patrons by donation only. On such a recent Sunday, the sun was shining over bright blue skies, and there was no way not to enjoy it, in the company of art. We chose one of my favorites, the ‘progenitor of modern sculpture’, Auguste Rodin.
These days as the sun sets early and the cold air settles in, I’m busying myself with designing. New Kasia Dietz handbags in the works! The question is, where does this inspiration come from? In a word: art. The sole reason I started my business. And aside from travel, my great love. As I did in NYC, here in Paris I spend as much time as I can carousing galleries and museums, even just stopping in the Pompidou, or in NYC, the MoMA, or in London, the Tate Modern, to visit my favorites. Paul Klee, Mark Rothko, Franz Klein, to name a few. It is these great artists that inspire me in my own, wearable art. Who says art and fashion can’t mix?
As much as I enjoy frequent visits to local galleries and museums, some of the most unique and interesting art can be found walking along the city’s streets. Even the street art in Paris appears to be inspired by the romanticism of the city, at least in my eyes. There’s one artist in particular who I admire and have been following, whose work appears on numerous facades all around the city. Illustrations that come to life, and always make me stop to look. His name is Fred le Chevalier.
“Doing street art is a way to talk with everybody, not just with a specific audience.”
“They come from my feelings. I identify myself with most of the characters.”
“I try to do things that are optimistic.”
“What I like about my work is that people can create their own meaning.”
“I like mixing poetry with street art.”
“My characters never are adult or child, man or woman, it’s always a mix.”
Fred le Chevalier began posting his work in the Marais, where he is most familiar, and has since reached walls all around the city, numbering two to three thousand posted pieces in the last 3 years. He is gaining fame internationally and has begun exhibiting in galleries. I’m certain this is just the beginning. I for one, will continue to follow his poetic imaginings all around the gallery called Paris.
To learn more about Fred le Chevalier here is an interview, his blog and facebook page.
Every year the space within the Grand Palais becomes transformed by a select artist. To date, Anselm Kiefer (2007), Richard Serra (2008), Christian Boltanski (2010), Anish Kapoor (2011) and this year Daniel Buren. Considering that I’m a big fan of his columns at the Palais Royale, I wasn’t going to miss this! At first glance, the colorful circles impress by their sheer number… and colors.
It’s not until you look up, catching the light and mix of colors, that you really become mesmerized.
The view from above presents a completely varied and reflective experience.
Whether chasing light from below or admiring the view from above, I was impressed. As were the many wide-eyed children and enthusiastic adults surrounding me. A perfect refuge from gray skies.
Grand expo ending June 21st. Whose playground will it become next year?
Art and travel. My two great inspirations. And one reason I design, combining these passions into something fashionable and functional. My latest Pop Art collection addresses the more playful side of art and fashion while the Riviera collection transports you to the French and Italian coasts.
The riviera bags speak for themselves, and were shot exactly there, on the Italian Riviera.
To help capture the essence of the pop art bags, I asked none other than art aficionado (and fabulous photographer) Stephanie of La Belle in France. First stop, Palais-Royal! Here are a few favorites from our shoot…
Untitled. Simply because there are many interpretations.
City. In the park.
Blue Coils. Very Richard Serra!
Spotlight. Simply because.
To feature these new collections, just in time for spring and summer, I redesigned my website! (Feeling very proud!) This is no easy task, and I would not have been able to do it without the help of my dear designer friend Suzanne, who created her own site, and helped me every step of the way.
To celebrate my relaunch, and to thank you all for your support of my growing business, I’m offering a promotion to my lovely readers and fans. With each purchase of a new Pop Art or Riviera bag receive a complimentary matching purse! (Offer ends June 1st) www.kasiadietz.com
My last visit to Vernazza was on a hike just a month prior to the flooding. I was afraid of what I would find on my recent return. This village, the favorite of Rick Steves, was devastated, it’s famously picturesque port completely buried. Just recently life has returned to Vernazza, still not nearly back to it’s glory. Much rebuilding remains in the months ahead.
What I was most pleasantly surprised to find were the painted doors. On January 6th, 50 artists were invited to paint one of the many boarded up doors, a mission called “Un Arcobaleno di Solidarietà per Vernazza” — A Rainbow of Solidarity for Vernazza. To bring hope back to this shattered village. In the spirit of community, and art.
A last look from above as the sun set through the clouds, Monterosso far off in the distance. A view that could leave you breathless. And certain that this village will rise again.
For more on aid and progress of Vernazza click here.
Nichole Robertson is one of those women I look at and wonder, how does she do it all? (And so well!) Excel at a career in New York’s high-paced advertising world, manage a continual state of wedded bliss, raise two young sons… all the while living the dream of Paris, photographing this city by capturing it’s essence unlike anyone else. Recently she was featured on Martha Stewart, but there was more I wanted to know. And so I asked her how Paris became a reality.
My husband and I decided to move to Paris on a whim one night after a few glasses of wine. By all measures it seemed crazy – we had two toddler boys, wonderful friends, a network of business contacts – but something nagged us. Was this the life we were supposed to be living?
We hadn’t yet bought a house (we were living in the NYC suburbs) and we both were self-employed with flexible work arrangements. Nothing was holding us down, and our desire to shake up our lives outweighed any practical considerations.
So we stored or sold most of our things, and did it. I didn’t really overthink it, and looking back, I’m humored by the cavalier manner in which we did it. It was exhilarating and scary and wonderful.
As we adjusted to our new neighborhood, everything was a challenge in the best possible way. While I could sleepwalk my way through a workday with a client in NYC or at Whole Foods or Target, simply buying milk or navigating the post office presented challenges. I had about as much French as an 18 month old and the same wide eyes.
Being out of my comfort zone was good for me. It allowed me to slow down and notice things I may have otherwise overlooked. Even though I’m a writer, I had little interest in writing about my experiences in Paris, it was all visual. I carried my camera with me everywhere. I snapped photos of everything that caught my eye (I even have photos of trash cans!), simply because it was new. New to me, and that’s all that mattered.
That was three years ago, and what started out as simple snapshots of my life in Paris turned into a three-year project, a side business and a book. I’m still floored by that, and wonder why my life took this turn. I guess good things happen when you follow your bliss.
To experience more of Nichole’s bliss, step into the world of Little Brown Pen where she often captures Paris in Color, her book releasing on April 18th! My favorites being red and gray, or perhaps the elegance of white… You can also follow her visions of Paris via Facebook and Twitter.
As I’m getting to know Paris more intimately and discovering it’s characteristic neighborhoods, each a small village in its own right, I think of how we come to identify with our hood (as the New Yorker would say it) or arrondissement to the Parisiens. The city is made up of 20 arrondissements, as decided by Napoleon III in 1860. Where you are on the map is evident when you glance up at the street signs and find a number ranging from 1 to 20. (Still easy to get lost, trust me!)
Much like in New York where one of the first questions asked ‘Where do you live?’ can create an instant bond, Paris too forms identities via neighborhoods. When I came across this map created by artist Vahran Muratyan of Paris versus New York, I couldn’t help but to think of how well these two cities compliment one another. From someone who shares my sentiments, “When I’m in Paris, I miss New York, and when I’m in New York, I miss Paris. It’s really impossible to choose.”
Even though I lived in the Lower East Side, via Paris I managed to find my way to the West Village bordering SOHO, my two favorite neighborhoods. Yes, I can attest to the accuracy of this map!
Fellow New Yorkers in Paris (and those still to arrive) where do you call home? In NYC and in Paris.
Anyone who knows me, is well aware that New York City resides deeply within my heart. Much like a first love that will forever be revered. Several months ago, via my blogging journey, I met a fellow New Yorker with a similar sentiment towards the city that doesn’t sleep. Phil Vasquez is a writer and filmmaker from Canada, inspired by classic and foreign films and American and French popular music songbooks, everything from Cole Porter to Charles Aznavour. He has resided for many years in NYC and soon… Paris. I quickly discovered that Phil possesses a unique sensitivity and depth that was revealed in his short film, Song of Relations, a beautiful tribute to the soul of old New York City.
Nested in nests of water bays. Superb, rich. Hemm’d thick all round with sail ships and steam ships. An island, 16 miles long, solid founded. Numberless crowded streets. High growths of iron. Slender, strong, light. Splendidly uprising toward clear skies. The countless masts. The white shore steamers. The lighters. The ferry-boats. The downtown streets. The houses of business of the ship merchants and money brokers. The river streets. City of hurried and sparkling waters, city of spires and masts. City nested in bays. My city.
– Walt Whitman
I look forward to following Phil’s journey from New York to Paris, a city he and his wife plan to call home, where he will absorb the culture and no doubt make authentic French films with an American independent production style. And where his unique vision will continue.
To view his film and learn more about this writer & filmmaker in the making: www.tpapictures.com
Walking around Barcelona during the day is an experience in architecture, namely Gaudí, but by night the city takes on quite a different persona, particularly in the neighborhoods we chose to explore, El Born and Barrio Gotico. Bars and shops would close in the night (as well as much of the early afternoon) and the streets were filled with metal doors often advertising what lies on the other side. It felt as though we were walking through an outdoor gallery only visible to the night crawlers.
Just the right mix of shabby and chic.
Would I buy fruits and vegetables here?
I can only imagine what’s for sale behind these doors…
Pasta anyone?
My adventurous side is intrigued.
Next time I will return during open hours to discover the truth behind these doors.
Following a memorable traditional family Christmas spent on the Italian Riviera between Monterosso and Levanto, it was time for a new adventure. I had last been to Spain many university years ago and was eager to become reacquainted with Barcelona. Almost immediately we were greeted by Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí, considered by some a genius and by others a lunatic. Perhaps a mix of the two? For those 6 days we experienced Love in the City of Gaudí.
Our first stop was Casa Batlló (right), a modernist house appropriately called the ‘house of bones’.
I was mesmerized by the colors and effects, each detail fitting together creating a masterpiece.
The roof of tiled chimneys was particularly impressive. I was intriqued with the mind of this genius.
Next stop was majestic cathedral Sagrada Família, the Nativity facade by Gaudí began in 1882.
The Passion facade with controversial statues by Josep Subirachs sculpted from 1986-2006.
Intricate ceiling of the cathedral whose completion is planned by 2040, 10 towers still to be built.
Our self-guided tour, along with many others, continued to Park Güell, a garden city project.
We were first greeted by the iconic dragon.
A lone violinist accompanied by a washerwoman amidst the living stones.
It was here where Gaudí lived his last years, within this failed urban development turned park.
Our last stop was the statuesque Casa Milà, also known as La Pedrera.
It was with the silent guardians on the rooftop that I became enamored.
The whisper of these chimneys confirmed that I would soon return.
I love to travel as much as I love designing. Thus, I decided to design a custom travel bag, revealing the three cities closest to my heart. A seemingly easy task, at least for the first two. Paris, since this is now my home and ever since that first visit so many years ago, love at first encounter. New York since it’s where I spent some of the most memorable (and formative) years of my life.
As for the third, that was a challenge. There are many cities I became enamored with, mostly during my journey around the world. Buenos Aires, Hanoi, Ubud (more a town than a city), Sydney, Mumbai, Kyoto, Luang Prabang, Krakow, London, Mexico City… the list goes on. But where was it that stood out in my mind unlike any other? Tokyo. Perhaps because I was there with dear friends on both my first visit and my second. Or perhaps it was due to the freshest sushi I’ve even eaten at 7am after a night of darts and karaoke… or simply, the unique energy and electricity in the air.
Whatever it was, Tokyo won a place on my bag. Along with Paris and New York.
What are your top three?
To make this equally exciting for all fashion savvy travelers out there, I’m giving away one custom hand-painted reversible travel bag to a lucky traveler and fan. With your initials printed on the inside pocket. To enter, leave a comment stating your three favorite cities and join my facebook fan page where I will announce the winner on December 15th. Bonne chance and many a bon voyage!
To order a custom bag or join a bag painting workshop and create your own: info@kasiadietz.com
My most venerated Paris museum was once a railway station, built for the Universal Exhibition of 1900. Since then it was abandoned and later brought back to life 25 years ago, housing the largest Impressionist collection in the world. Not to mention my favorites, the Post-Impressionists.
I have wandered the halls of the Musée d’Orsay many a time, lost amidst it’s history both structural and that which decorates it’s walls. Though in the last year and a half, due to major renovations, much of this grand edifice was closed to the public, it’s space and artwork hidden from view.
To celebrate it’s recent unveiling, I decided to take a proper tour not only of the Orsay’s new galleries but also of it’s masterpieces. It was a Context Paris docent that enlightened me over an almost four hour long tour beginning in 1848 with Corot and the Barbizon School and ending in 1914 with Degas, Van Gogh, Cézanne and Monet, among others. I had briefly studied art history in the past, and tried to enlighten myself whenever possible, but an intimate tour with many of my most admired artists, where each of my questions was answered in depth and at length, THIS is art history heaven! Following the tour, I sat for some time in the sunlit space, thoughtful of all many stories I had been told, while gazing into the distance, grateful that this day at the Orsay was one of my own.
The Louvre. The grandest museum in the world, and certainly the most intimidating. I tend to enter it’s glass pyramid on rare occasion only with a visitor in town. (Mona Lisa, Venus and I have shared more than enough moments through the years.) This all changed however, when my friend Daisy, an ex-New Yorker with a background in art history, invited me on a Treasure Hunt at the Louvre.
An activity she cleverly invented as a sort of art game, where people team up and set off to run wild amidst this grand corridors in search of hidden treasures. Where better (and more challenging) than the Louvre!
My Italian and I took part in these artful antics many months ago, with a dozen or so other teams. I found myself relying on mere luck to find our select masterpieces, most of which where not found. My strategic Italian had devised a plan but by the time we wrapped out heads around the museum’s floorplan, sands of the hourglass were spent. Thankfully I’m not too sore of a loser, as we all met to tally up the points an a neighborhood cafe. The evening resulted in both a lesson in art history and teamwork, and we all left in good spirits.
I have been waiting for the next THATLou event, and alas, it has arrived! Daisy is planning a treasure hunt for Friday November 18th. Sign up by the 11th, bring your competitive side and a partner, and prepare for a night of hunting for some of the grandest treasures to behold. If you can find them.
For details and to sign up contact Daisy: daisydeplume@gmail.com. Many more events in 2012…
During the recent days of FIAC, my Italian and I spent a glorious Sunday in the Tuileries Garden beneath the early Autumn sun, surrounded on all sides by art. This the outside feature of the contemporary art show. Was it the bright light or the unique sculptures that captured our eye? Perhaps a mix of the two. Enjoy the tour amidst a setting worthy itself of admiring.
Beginning with the carved wing of a plane.
A floating silver sculpture by Antoine Dorotte, glowing in it’s pond.
A Richard Serra-esque composition by artist Danh Vo.
Art competing in scale with the Louvre itself.
A wooden shining star.
Last, but certainly not least, an inflatable monkey hanging out of the Louvre. Pourquoi Pas?
Art has always provided a source of inspiration, particularly modern and contemporary. Where better to lose yourself but in the mind of an eccentric artist? Lucky for me, I have several friends who moonlight as art connoisseurs, not to mention the artists I have also come to know and collect. One such friend from the early days of New York’s GenArt, invited me to the preview of FIAC, Paris’s grand international contemporary art fair. A reunion at the Grand Palais, parfait!
What contemporary masterpieces did we find within this historic setting? Many.
A white night following a bright blue Indian summer day. The ideal mood and climate for Paris’ annual Nuit Blanche, the one night of the year that the city ceases to sleep. One of my favorites, allowing those brave enough, to explore museums and churches in the early morning hours. Our adventures took place in the Marais, beginnning with a video installation of The Leopard at the magestic Hotel de Ville. Incidentally, the first book my Italian ever gave me.
From there we sought the shortest lines with the most engaging exhibitions. Not an easy task. We found Moby Dick at the Museum of Hunting & Nature, complete with a backdrop of whale sounds.
Seeking a moment of respite from the growing crowds, we entered the Église Notre-Dame des Blancs-Manteaux, only to be enchanted by an array of musicians in “Des voix dans la Nuit!” From pianists performing Chopin to a chorus singing Ave Maria, to a dramatic organist... certainly the longest (and the latest) I have ever sat in a church!
By now it was nearly 1am and we made our way to the grand exhibition Purple Rain. The line was wrapped well around the block, and so we passed by, trying to catch a glimpse of this incredible purple rain… Would it have been worth the wait? Perhaps.
Not yet ready to return home, we caroused the early morning streets in search of a last hurrah. What we found was an impressive structure at the Bibliothèque.
Composed solely of cement blocks held up by their arrangement.
Finally, time to end this white night and before it bacame another bright blue day.
With a last stop in Heaven at the Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme.
New York City. My first love. The one who taught me most about myself. And the one who I will always hold dear. These Paris days, as months turn into years, I look back on my New York chapter with great nostalgia. As a designer and forever a New Yorker, following the success of my Paris Collection, it feels only natural to create a New York Collection to express my affinity. As Paris is becoming a part of me, so too will New York remain. And now (drumroll)… the grand unveiling!
Upside down or rightside up, it’s NY NY!
Forever a downtown girl.
With a high regard for Brooklyn.
Home in the Lower East Side. Available with UES, UWS, Soho…
On the inside a NYC girl. The bag reversed.
All New York bags hand-painted {with love} in Paris. Available soon on my website. If you MUST have one now, contact me at kasia@kasiadietz.com! And let me know your favorite below…
With the Fall in Paris come the gallery openings. Many a Thursday night is spent rive droite or rive gauche, carousing the galleries in search of artists that inspire. Having worked in the art realm for over a decade, visual self-expression will forever remain on my radar. One artist I have kept a watchful eye on and was eager to attend his recent opening, featuring none other than his grandmother. This is the story of Sacha Goldberger, art director turned photographer. Five years ago, during his evolution from directing photos to taking them, he began to spend more and more time with his 87 year old grandma, noticing she was becoming less and less spirited. Sacha quickly found a role for her, casting her as his muse, and soon after, Mamika was born! Not surprisingly, this 92 year old superstar-grand-mère is more amused and vital than prior to her hollywood days. Doesn’t everyone deserve their 15 minutes?
Here are a few of my favorites from the recent exhibit at Galerie Bailly in Saint Germain.
Mamika will be there until Oct 29th, don’t miss her!
Follow Sacha, his work and continued adventures of Mamika via his personal site and facebook.
Paris and New York. Two cities that could not be more diverse yet equally loved by many. Each a contrast as well as a compliment to the other. Having to choose one that reigns supreme would be impossible. A life between the two, at least to me, is ideal.
I am certainly not alone in this love for both cities. Friend and fellow New Yorker with one foot in Paris Amy Thomas (aka Sweet Freak), recently wrote about an expo of rising star Vahram Muratyan who illustrates with playful sophistication the contrasts between Paris and New York at an exhibition at the trendy Colette. (exhibition ends September 24th)
As a fan of Vahram’s work, seeing it displayed throughout the boutique was a visual treat.
Or perhaps these… How about a macaron with an americano?
This was exactly the inspiration I needed as I’m in the midst of designing a hand-printed New York handbag collection to complement my recent Paris collection. Once a New Yorker in Paris, always.
My neighbor is Picasso. Rather, his art collection, contained in the Picasso Museum. How privileged do I feel living in such close proximity to some of the greatest art works in history? Very. But for the moment, a long moment ending sometime in Spring 2013, the museum is closed. That leaves me to explore the artwork surrounding the museum, more modern in style, some of it equally abstract.
Anyone who lives in Paris or visits often knows that you need only to look up to find artistic expressions in the form of graffiti, posters, murals… Often times the art found on the exterior walls of Paris is more interesting than that found inside the museums. If you take the time to look for it.
The beauty of the Picasso Museum lies also in it’s structure and surrounding garden. An ideal place to seek refuge and read a bit of French philosophy, do some writing of your own, share a baguette, or play a game of ping-pong. The latter one of my favorite Paris past times. And the composition of the sky above the museum at dusk is in itself a masterpiece.
When I first met Chloe Lodge, I sensed a curiosity in her gaze, and a warmth in her demeanor. When I found out she was studying to become a photographer, my interest grew. (Having worked as a Print Producer in the advertising world for over a decade, I grew to know and admire many visual thinkers, and have developed a love for photography.) With undeniable fervor, Chloe told me about the Masters Programme she was completing in Paris, and her final project, documenting ‘Expat Women in a Foreign Land’: Paris. (And would I want to participate? Bien Sur!) So, how did Chloe arrive to pursue her dreams, in Paris? Her path is a unique and well-traveled one.
It still surprises me, how quickly life can change. If a year ago, someone said to me that I would be at the beginning of a new career in photography, having studied in Paris and been exhibited at the Rencontres dʼArles I would never have believed them. I am delighted to say this is exactly what has happened.
Photography has been a passion of mine since I was a little girl. When asked as a child ʻwhat do you want to become?ʼ for me, aged 7, my answer was always ʻI want to be a National Geographic Photographer.ʼ At fifteen I showed my photographs to my art teacher who said ʻthese are nice pictures but they are holiday snaps. To be a photographer you have to make the everyday appear extra-ordinary and more interesting than its perception.ʼ I had little, or no idea what she meant and felt discouraged.
After a brief spell at Art College studying sculpture, I achieved a BA Honours degree in Art History. Not having a clue what to do with a qualification such as this I fell into the city life of London, initially working in Event Management, then momentarily for the big boys at Goldman Sachs on Fleet Street. However, the creative Chloe gasped for breath inside everyday, so when a slightly unusual opportunity presented itself to me, I grabbed it with both hands. Working alongside Bear Grylls was a fascinating and all-encompassing job. Regardless, my role was one I could tweak and mould how I wanted. It was about organisation, PR, event management and with a little design thrown in. During a particularly intense period manning the 24-hour UK base of Bearʼs 2003 Trans-Atlantic Arctic Expedition I realised that it was about time I stopped sitting behind a desk organising adventures for others and see the world for myself.
My London flat went on the market, and I booked myself a round-the-world ticket. I planned on three months away but ended up being away almost three years. In that time I travelled across Russia, Mongolia and China on the Trans-Siberian, I spent four months backpacking in South-East Asia and finally ʻsettledʼ in New Zealand for almost two and a half years.
The back streets of Valletta, Malta. May 2011
The age of digital photography was upon us and, small compact in hand, I rediscovered my love of photography – capturing the beauty in the everyday. The landscape, culture and texture of life in the ʻLand of the Long White Cloudʼ awoke the softly doozing hunger for the photographic image from inside me. Whilst down-under, I not only fell in love with my photography again, I fell in love with the very wonderful James.
This was almost five years ago, and for reasons unknown to us, we then ended up in England. The dream of any little girl came true and James proposed. It was a double whammy because he also agreed to my fantasy of a small, intimate wedding on an Italian hillside, then the intense organisation began. It was all going to plan, until devastation hit. It was a Saturday afternoon, exactly three months to the day before our wedding, that I received the phone call. My dear and much-loved Mum, had died overnight in her sleep. Aged just 58, it was sudden, unexpected and shattered my world from the core.
Unwillingly but essentially I had to shift the wedding plans to funeral plans, desperately trying to ingest the utter shock of what had happened. We had to decide quickly whether to go ahead with our Italian wedding plans, or not. We decided whenever we were to get married after that she wouldnʼt physically be there: getting ready on the day, smiling at me with pride as I said my vows, laughing with me every step of the way. But she had been part of the planning THIS day, so we had to move forward.
Springtime in Paris, the Eiffel Tower. March 2011
Is it possible for light come from the darkness of utter tragedy? Sitting in the shade of a palm tree on our honeymoon, a realisation slowly dawned on me that I might now have the opportunity to follow that childhood dream of mine. I could go back to school to study photography. After much research and a swift application, I received a confirmation from a school in Paris to study Professional Photography starting September 2010.
Still fragile and in shock from the previous six months, I wondered if it was the right timing for me. Being in my mid-thirties, it felt like it was ʻnow or neverʼ. I had visited Paris as an art student, spending many happy hours in the Louvre and Musee DʼOrsay, and knew Iʼd always loved it as a city and so, swallowed hard and took the plunge.
As I began my studies I felt that the studio was where I wanted to be, ʻmakingʼ pictures and not ʻtakingʼ them. However, as my first semester journey of personal and creative exploration ventured on I began feeling more and more that the outside world is where I wanted to be. My interest has always been in people, within the context of their lives. Understanding how things change and evolve for them over time. I consider myself a social observer and a story teller, and it’s for this reason documentary and portrait photography is the area in which I love to work. Photography is not purely the creative action of taking a picture, it’s about people and their stories, their lives.
Kasia Dietz, from the portrait series 'Modern Women at Home in a Foreign Land' April, 2011
Ten challenging, soul-searching but fantastic months later, I have achieved a National Diploma with Honours, and finished the Masters Programme. Following our final diploma show in May, two out of 68 students were selected to be part of the 26 year celebration exhibition of our school at the Rencontres dʼArles… and my work was one of them. It was a complete surprise, but a fantastic honour so soon after graduating. The same exhibition will be shown in November, during Paris Photo Month, at the Speos Gallery, Paris. A city at the nucleus of the photography world. It feels like the beginning of something very wonderful… itʼs not the start of a new chapter, itʼs the start of a whole new book. A book I have always dreamt of starting, and now I am.
The Residence of the US Ambassador to France, Paris. April 2011 (selected for Rencontres d'Arles)
Congratulations and best of luck to you Chloe, as your ‘dream life’ of visual story telling continues!
Chloe Lodge Photography, will be exhibited at the Speos Gallery, 75011 Paris from November 8th – December 31st 2011. You can also follow Chloe Lodge on facebook as her life soon takes her from Paris to Asia. (Once the traveler always the traveler!)
ʻModern Women at Home in a Foreign Landʼ captures todayʼs Anglophone women making lives for themselves in a country where the culture, language and tradition is often very different to their own. Each following their own dream, in so many different ways. Her self- published book is available for viewing via Blurb.com
Giverny is a place I had often envisioned during my romantic musings. To walk amidst it’s gardens, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colors and history. Considering it was recently our two year anniversary, (and we were in need of a little getaway) it seemed the ideal escape. Forty-five minutes via train, into a world created by great Impressionist master, Claude Monet.
I could not help but to think of the lives lived amidst these grounds and within these walls.
Night fell. The last bus departed. We were not yet ready to leave this setting of many a masterpiece.
One of my favorite shops, which also happens to be in the Northern Marais where I call home, is Ofr., a boutique, bookstore and gallery. Genius! While you are perusing the impressive collection of art and design books, you can stumble into the back gallery and live an art experience. If you are new to Paris, owner Alexandre Thumerelle will guide you, literally, with his very own Guide Paris.
Here too, amidst the fine art photography filled walls, you can find my hand-printed rive gauche and rive droitebags. A perfect setting for wearable art! And perfect bags to fill with books!
During my last visit I entered the creative vision of artist Jeremy Everett. What exactly did I find?
The American Heritage Dictionary. Unlike I have ever seen it.
Stay tuned for the 15 year Ofr. party on May 20th! And check here for more art events.
Recently I attended an event at the newly opened Rose Bakery in the 12th, well situated within the walls of contemporary art space La Maison Rouge. It was not the tasty appetizers nor the wine that whet my appetite. Nor was it the ‘tous cannibales‘ exhibition spread throughout the space. (Quite a shock to the senses for anyone attending!) What most captured my gaze and provoked many a thought was an exhibition by Chiharu Shiota entitled, From Where We Come and What We Are.
Hundreds of beaten up suitcases constructing what appeared to be a house; a form of shelter.
I could not help but to think of the lives of and behind these suitcases, where had they traveled, on what journey had they been, when and for how long. These vintage bags had many a story to tell, as did those whose hands they had passed through.
Chiharu asks ‘Do memories help construct us or do they prevent us from moving on?’ A good question. Personally, I choose the former.
Admittedly, I often miss the feeling of being lost in a concrete jungle, also known as New York City. Feeling so small amidst such grandness has a certain appeal. Perhaps it’s the feeling of so many lives being lived vertically, that behind each window another story is unfolding. And simply to look up is to feel alive! Rather than hop on a jet and cross the ocean I hop on the 1 train. Destination: La Défense.
Recently I had some business to tend to in Neuilly Sur Seine, a wealthy suburb to the west of Paris. What most appealed to me were the views of the skyscrapers ahead, or what is actually Paris’s major business district. Beneath a moody sky, I decided to walk. My Italian lunch date awaited.
I crossed the Seine from the peace of a small French village into the energy of concrete motion.
En route I was impressed with the many artistic displays, both on the ground and in the architecture.
One particular place is my favorite. A wooden boardwalk behind the Grande Arche, overlooking a blanket of trees and a cemetery. It is here where we often sit. And I think of the many lives once lived below and the many being lived above.
Soon La Défense will be wrapped in holiday lights. A view from the top of the Grande Arche beckons.
While the Italians were in town we took them to Versailles. Just in case they weren’t thoroughly impressed from day one in Paris.
As excited as they were to visit this 17th Century Château, I was equally excited to view the current Murakami exhibit, a source of controversy since its inception in mid-September. I was determined to find all 22 works by Takashi Murakami, including the 11 created specifically for the show, and to discover what all the hype was about. All this while enjoying the splendor of Versailles, which I had previously visited as a student, back in the days when art was confined to museums and galleries.
My first impression was disdain as I felt too distracted by the art to pay much attention to the grandeur of the architecture. That quickly turned to child-like curiosity, as I entered each ornately decorated room, eager to discover which brightly-coloured creatures lurked behind the corner.
It was the unique contrast in the Baroque setting and the art that held my interest.
During this tour, I wondered to myself what exactly was the motivation for France to curate such a show? Setting the precedent with Jeff Koons’ exhibit in 2008, were they attempting to position themselves as provocateurs in the art world? Or perhaps this is all a political ploy to strengthen relations between France and Japan. Whatever the reason, I was throughly entertained and enjoyed it more than not. The Italians thought it amusing but lacked my enthusiasm. The French tourists, upon over-hearing several conversations, were deeply dismayed. (Right-wingers no doubt.)
The final room held no 17th Century distractions, merely smiley flowers to lighten the mood.
For those confused about how modernity can find a home within the walls of history (myself included), Curator Laurent Le Bon offers a little clarity, “The unique experience seeks above all to spark a reflection of the contemporary nature of our monuments and indispensable need to create out own era.”
Still confused? In this video which takes you on a tour of the exhibition, Murakami explains his reasoning behind working so diligently to create his manga universe at Versailles. What I found interesting is how he defines space in France versus Japan, two very disparate cultures. “In France you have this tradition to conquer and manage space and to represent it in three dimensions. In Japan, there is this tradition to flatten out reality to take a real three dimensional space and transform it into two dimensions.” Another interesting note, Murakami considers his work somewhat like origami which can be manipulated in various ways. I would have to agree.
The grand finale in the exhibition is the Oval Buddha in the garden. Very grand and very gold. If you have not yet experienced the controversy, the show is up until December 12, 2010. Well worth it!
Still, I am left to wonder, should modern art find a home in history?
Nuit Blanche is one of my favorite nights in Paris. My first was last year and immediately I became a fan of this night of organized creative chaos. The city comes to frenetic life from dusk until dawn. Around every corner an art installation waits to be discovered, in churches, hospitals, gardens…virtually everywhere. My favorite exhibits are often those found by accident, such as the image of a person sleeping, found in a boutique in the Marais, a light installation by Frédérique Chauveau.
Long sheer illuminated curtains, blowing in the wind at the Swedish Institute…eerily romantic.
Love the Differences in many languages by Michelangelo Pistoletto…love the cultural melange!
Atsara created one of my favorite light installations, hidden in a courtyard on Isle Saint Louis.
The rose window of Notre Dame lit up beneath a pitch plack sky, by Thierry Dreyfus.
A perfect grand finale…at 3am.
Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible -Paul Klee
If there were an artist I would have loved to sit down to dinner with a good bottle of French wine, (there are so many, but having to choose only one) it would be Paul Klee. Not simply because he was a talented musician, writer AND painter, nor for the fact that his unique style of painting included the art movements of expressionism, cubism, and surrealism, but because certain of his paintings evoke in me a feeling so rare and magical that I would love to know the workings of his mind. To know how these painting came to life. I have learned this somewhat, by reading the passionate and provocative prose of his diaries, and whenever possible I search for his work in museums around the world, including two of my favorites, the Tate Modern in London and the MOMA in NYC.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Mr. Klee in Paris. He work was featured at the Musée de l’Orangerie, what is now one of my favorite museums in Paris (in addition to the Musée d‘Orsay, loved by all for it’s renowned Impressionist collection). The exhibition was very soon ending (today in fact!). I had been meaning to go for ages, and finally made a date with the master.
I brought my Italian, curious whether he would fall in love the way I did upon my first Klee encounter, so many years ago. Does not taste in art make a relationship even stronger? Well, not really, but if it’s a passion then surely it should be shared. We were both impressed with the collection of 26 works by Ernst Beyeler, one of the founders of Art Basel. I enjoyed the show but missed some of my favorite pieces that hang in Klee’s country of birth, Switzerland.
That reminds me. One of the most memorable nights spent during my travels was in Bern. I arrived in the late afternoon, and as luck would have it, on my one night in the city, the Paul Klee Museum was open until 9pm. Needless to say, I spent over 3 hours in what felt like the most intimate encounter with a man and his work.
Klee once so wisely said, Art should be like a holiday: something to give a man the opportunity to see things differently and to change his point of view.
It is Paul Klee that speaks to me again now, in this time of wandering, that we must never cease to search, and always to dream.
Childhood was a dream, some day all would be accomplished. The period of learning, a time for searching into everything, into the smallest, into the most hidden, into the good and the bad. Then a light is lit somewhere, and a single direction is followed (that stage I now enter, let us call it the time of wandering).
I’ve been feeling a bit homesick lately, missing the cultural activities of NYC and most of all my creative-minded accomplices to indulge in them with. Not that Paris lacks in art, music or film festivals, particularly in the summertime. I simply need to dig a little deeper to find them, and often that means translating. (In other words: intimidating)
When I found out that NYC friend and photographer Casey Kelbaugh, was bringing his Slideluck Potshow event to Paris as part of his European tour, I was thrilled! It has taken him four years to present to a French audience (we won’t get into those details) but finally he made it happen. Slideluck Potshow is a non-profit organization dedicated to building and strengthening the community through art and food. Hence the mixing of Slideshow and Potluck. Casey is one example of a creative visionary who planted a seed (in his hometown of Seattle to be precise) by gathering friends and artists together in his backyard, and has in the last 10 years watched it blossom and grow throughout the USA and Europe. Much due to it’s success in NYC in the last 6 years.
I felt at home within this atmosphere of familiarity with a French twist, as did over 400 others. A night of meeting and mingling with artists and art aficionados, eating a mix of foods as is the SLPS theme, and watching a carefully curated slideshow presentation of 40 chosen photographers, organized around a theme, each show accompanied by it’s own soundtrack. Well done!
To add to the appeal, the event could not have been better located than on Canal Saint-Martin. Le Comptoir Général in the 10th arrondissement, is now my new favorite venue for all things creative.
This all leads me to question, are the grounds of NYC more fertile than those in Paris? Can creative visionaries find a home here too? To be continued…
I love living in the Marais. Not simply because of the designer boutiques and trendy bistros on every cobbled corner, or the multitude of galleries exhibiting art from around the world. The ambiance of the Marais is unique. It’s one of the most historic neighborhoods of Paris, encompassing the 3rd and 4th arrondissements of the right bank. I can easily spend many a late afternoon carousing the streets, joining the masses at a random art opening and ending the evening with a glass of red wine upon a cafe terrasse.
Most of all I love the many hidden courtyards of the Marais, revealing enchanting worlds, such as Village Saint Paul. Today I discovered another one, one which spoke of art. Our afternoon was spent in search of artists part of Nomades 2010, a parcours culturel et artistique du 3eme, taking place all weekend in the Marais. We followed our feelings, with an event map in hand, and there it was, a hideaway of artists and ateliers, la Cité Dupetit Thouars. I was in heaven!
How had I not found this bohemian paradise amidst the land of the bobo’s sooner? We walked in and out of ateliers, meeting artists, learning of their trade, feeling inspired by the these talented few who followed their dreams and ended up sharing them with those who took the time to find them.
What a privileged insight into the lives of artists! We first met a carpenter who designs furniture from all types of wood, creating what I tend to call ‘functional art’. Patricia was hidden behind a mountain of tools and wood, barely could we find her. I’m certain I will return one day to commission a coffee table.
The next character we met was Yves Prince, a true artist in the traditional sense. He has had many a woman pose in his studio, as is evident by the wall of nudes hanging in his atelier. In his warm and welcoming manner he was proud too, to show us the many film posters he has designed, impressive!
Fashion is often considered art. Here we found one such fashion artist, Gwen van den Eijnde, sharing his unique and magical world of fabric and form.
One of the most inspiring artists we met was Michele Adrien, a framer. Not at all the typical framer you would find to simply beautify your artwork, her frames exhibit a work of art in themselves. She uses the endless resources of her conceptual and creative mind (plus, she was once a mathematician so her measurements are exact), to complement the art in question, using materials such as lead, glass, foam, wood, copper, even a milk carton. My engineer is now convinced that he too will become an artist.
Never again will I pass this little street in the Marais, la Cité Dupetit Thouars, without smiling at the unique world of artists existing behind each unassuming door.
For the creative souls living in Paris, there are several morning and evening courses in painting/design/sculpture offered within one of these hidden ateliers: www.terre-et-feu.com
Picasso once said “I am the greatest collector of Picassos in the world.” This much revered collection of over 3,000 works ranging from sketches to finished masterpieces is exhibited upon walls located only meters away in the Musée Picasso. What is most impressive about this collection is the number of works Picasso painted after his seventieth birthday. This imposing display is complemented by Picasso’s own personal art collection of artists including Cézanne, Degas, Rousseau, Seurat, de Chirico and Matisse. On a recent morning I learned that many of Paris’ museums were closed due to workers strikes. (Ah yes, the French love to strike!) Immediately my desire to view the works of one of my most admired artists grew, as I had not been to this hôtel particulier in several years. As luck would have it, there was no strike at the museum, rather, it was closed for renovations until 2013. Surely by then I will become a weekly visitor.
A walk on the esteemed avenue of the Champs-Elysées makes me feel entirely like a tourist. I’m not exactly sure when I will give up this status and become a local, perhaps when I stop looking up at the sky and pardoning those who ask me for directions that I am lost myself. In all honestly, I hope to forever live my Parisian life as a visitor. To appreciate the grandeur within and upon each architecturally inconceivable structure. To smile at the encounter of every hidden alleyway and secret garden. To always carouse the streets with curious eyes and a mind eager to learn. It is after all the most fascinating and serendipitous encounters we find upon the streets. Here in Paris this is where art is discovered in it’s many forms.
A display of Vogue magazine covers, beauty captured through time, caught my eye amidst the golden hues of falling leaves…
A lesson in history. One day in 1616 Marie de Medicis decided to create a long tree-lined pathway within a space that held nothing but fields (Elysian fields). This quickly became a very fashionable place to walk. In years to follow (namely 1724) the avenue was extended up to Chaillot hill, now the site of the Arc de Triomphe and the Etoile. In 1828 the avenue became city property with the addition of footpaths, fountains and gas lighting. It is now a haven for tourists, filled with cinemas, cafés, and luxury shops. And for those who crave the energy such a street possesses.
Paris’ Nuit Blanche has, since it’s induction in 2002, become a highly anticipated celebration of art and culture. From dusk to dawn the doors to galleries, museums and churches stay open, welcoming those brave and eager enough to enter them. For one night a year ‘the city of lights’ becomes ‘the city that never sleeps’. Almost.
Led by a full moon, we began our journey into the white night at 10pm, following a path of art and music beginning in the Marais with video art projected upon the Centre Pompidou and Hôtel de Ville, ending at 3am with a melody of voices at Church Saint-Séverin in the Latin Quarter.
Walking along the Seine I noticed the most intense set of eyes staring at me. These eyes were large and profound, plastered along Ile Saint-Louis and Pont Louis Philippe. I could only imagine this was an artistic statement, not merely a talented graffiti artist. Indeed, this impressive exhibition, part of Nuit Blanche, is the vision of famed French photographer JR, titled ‘Women Are Heros’. The faces of women from impoverished nations around the world, most notably those in the favelas in Rio de Janeiro and in Kibera, Kenya, are projected larger than life, leaving the viewer moved and mesmerized. With eyes wide open.
Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, two famous Mexican painters united by passion and Communist views, leading to a shared life of even greater passion and pain resulting in great masterpieces. Evelyn and I spent the day at Diego’s studio, where his most entertaining neighbor Angie gave us a personal account of the lives of these capricious artists. Afterwards we headed to Frida’s ¨Blue¨ house in Coyoacán which is now a much visited museum. I could feel her presence.
With each visit to London my love affair with this enchanting city continues. I am now staying on the Thames with my dear friend Brandy and her boyfriend Keith. I was fortuitously treated by Brandy to a decadent dinner at Ubon, one of Nobu’s several eateries. This evening I took a walk along the river…Tower Bridge is a grand sight, majestically illuminated against a deep blue sky. My night was spent at the Tate Modern, viewing work by artists from around the globe, a brilliant collection! It feels good to be back on English soil.
Bartosz’ new flat in East London, designed and decorated by this talented young lad, well done!!
I have long desired to drive along the path to Sainte Victoire, the mountain apparent in much of Cezanne’s work, 444 oil paintings and 43 watercolors to be exact. It was my persistence and slight pleading that led us to the mountain as we exited Aix-en-Provence which in the matter of less than 24 hours I introduced to Bartosz who I know would find it as warm and inviting as I had. As the mountain loomed in our presence I experienced one of those rare moments in life when all rational thought dissipates and you can only feel with your heightened senses…
On my last night in Amsterdam I had the privilege of attending the preview of the Affordable Art Fair (if you can consider art under 5,000 euro affordable), the first year of this exhibition which I attend annually in NYC. Mirre and Marieke joined me for a wonderful night of art and play, running into our mutual friend Gijs, a small world indeed. Our night concluded in a local pizzeria before a long bike ride back to Mirre’s…and a return via train to Paris…
I arrived to Paris into a world of art! my Parisien life began with a grand tour of the heart of Paris, through the cobblestones of the Marais, into the natural tranquility of the Luxembourg gardens and the grand presence of the Louvre, my most venerated church of St Eustache…is there any place more beautiful than Paris in the Fall? For the moment there is not. My dearest Delphine was here from Jerusalem and together we admired the new collections at Christie’s followed by lunch at Cafe de Flore, after which I headed to FIAC to see the contemporary work from the many places in the world I have most recently called home. At the Pompidou I spent an afternoon with Giacometti, a most comprehensive insight into his life of art. The tour continues to the Grand Palais with Beatriz, a darling girl from Brazil, where we indulged in Courbet…there remains much more to see, savour and learn as my life in Paris evolves…
I arrived to Aix-en-Provence in the midst of the rugby chaos, as France was playing against New Zealand in nearby Marseilles. I thought I would be safe in the charming little city of Aix, but it seemed to be most densely populated with fans of this sport I was mildly intrigued with. Had it been tennis I would have most fervently joined in the revelry! It took a few days to settle and find a home, (I will spare the details in between) but soon I was living within this maze of fountains and history, walking the streets of a city where Cézanne spent so many years of his life, drinking cafe au lait in his local haunt, a place where he, Emile Zola and the many artists of their time would disect their ponderings for hours. My mornings were spent in the sunshine, walking through the fruit and vegetable market, followed by the flower market…followed by a stop at a boulangerie for a pain au chocolat…slowly my French was improving as I met locals and found most creative ways to express my thoughts in a language that I am determined to master.
Cézanne’s atelier where he would sit for hours and paint his most revered still life compositions…
Sainte-Victoire mountain in the distance…a place Cézanne would often seek refuge and inspiration.
I was eager to reach Aix-en-Provence, a place I would call home, at least for a week. This is where my french lessons would commence. On the way I stopped in Nice, on the Cote d’Azur, for a visit to the museum of a most revered artist of the South of France, Marc Chagall. A lunch of fine art and french wine, two things I value dearly in life.
I agree with Duchamp’s conception of art that a person’s “life” is “art” in a way, and neither is more important than the other. 798 Art Centre is one of China’s largest art spaces, the former facility of state-run 798 electronic factories. Since 2002 artists have built their studios in these old warehouses, now home to impressive artwork that is being recognized internationally. These warehouses also boast independent designer boutiques and cafes, a world of not-so-hidden treasures.
I arrived to Shanghai not knowing a soul. On my first night I made my way to ‘3 on the Bund’, a prime location including Jean Georges and many other fine eateries and bars. It was there that I met several strangers who soon became friends and began what feels like a very privileged life. I found a home in People Square, downtown Shanghai, at the warm hospitality of Georg, a german ex-pat, one of many in this continuously growing foreign community. Days here are hot amidst the polluted air, but my curiosity provokes me to wander these seemingly unnavigatable streets where noone speaks English and I am at the mercy of a map and any written scraps of paper bearing the name of my destination in Chinese. While it is strange and uncomfortable to feel so helpless I am deeply fascinated with the life here. My eyes speak volumes while my voice cannot. Surely I will not take the ease of communication for granted when I land on familiar soil.
The art world of China is finding its voice in this city of fervent growth and energy. I spent an afternoon at Moganshan Road, a mass of ateliers revealing artistic provocation. Much of these works are clearly politically driven.
My favorite neighborhood is the French Concession, flavoured with the charm of Paris. Tree lined streets filled with boutiques as well as many trendy restaurants. Shanghai is indeed a city of eating which I am doing much of, including such delicacies as pigs knuckles and soups that I can’t even begin to describe…and shopping, which I have not been doing so much of as my shoe size (39.5) is non-existant and a size 6 is translated into XL !?
In the belief of reincarnation, our deeds, wealth, and love determine the next life. I would like mine to be lived in Bali. This is a beautiful land where people smile often and the art of creation brings nourishment to the soul. Ubud is a haven for artists, writers and anyone seeking spiritual enlightenment. My days are spent in admiration of the great artistic expression present in the temples, paintings, dance, even the food, which each mouthful I savour. Might I mention the (ever so inexpensive) art of massage which I experience as often as possible. At the hands of master painter Nyoman Sudadnya I am learning the techniques of Batik painting, quite a skill involving hot wax and patience. Amidst the miles of rice fields this composition of my life continues…
A batik comes to life from the recesses of a vivid imagination…
‘To understand your highest self you must live in that rhythm’, as did William Ricketts, an eccentric artist who lived and worked at Mt Dandenong until 1993, at the age of ninety-four. He felt a deep connection to the desert people of the Pitjantjara and Arrernte, as though he were one himself, perhaps in a past life. Walking through his sanctuary amidst this visual poetry of over 90 ceramic sculptures in which the human and natural spirit become one, I could feel his love and devotion to these people and the environment. An inner peace filled me in this space created by a single man who believed in something with a rare, soulful passion.
I was not sure what to expect arriving in Santiago, Chile, other than great wine. It is a rather non-descript city. A safe and comfortable place to live and work where you can enjoy a good quality of life. There is a European flair here, particularly in my favorite bohemian neighborhood, Bellavista, with many outdoor cafes and galleries. That is where we found the home of Pablo Naruda, as well as beautiful murals exhibiting his likeness and poetry. He was quite a witty man and had a most particular design sensibility. His home was created to feel as though you are on a boat, crooked floors, low ceilings, circular windows…ironically, he was afraid of the sea.
I sat by the lake and thought of the life Rodin must have led, and what inspired him to create.
