Traveling

Back in the beautiful Paris for a few days. Off to see the Louis Vuitton Marc Jacobs exhibition!

images: paris girl couture

Le 10e

Before we leave my beloved Paris, I want to share with you a fabulous concept I stumbled upon in the 10th.

"Le 10e" is a very happening area, situated along the Canal St Martin. It is full of interesting stores, wonderful little wine bars and offbeat restaurants and also home to "Le Comptoir General".

Hidden behind a stone wall and down a long ashpalt pathway, lies the entrance to an amazing space for rest, refuelling and long discussions over brunch or late into the evening.

It is hard to describe the space. It feels like a cross between a destitute mansion in Cuba and an outdoor cafe in Central Africa, filled with crazy vintage posters, live trees, curiosity cabinets and hints of witchcraft. You can rummage through a book swap, delve for some antique lace, listen to an LP of Papa Kourand, chow down on a delicious lentil dahl, or hang out at the bar talking politics whilst sipping mojitos.

The actual philosophy of the space is to bring together like-minded eco-conscious individuals who care for the planet and the well-being of their fellow homo sapiens. There is a definite African theme running through the place as the owners try and make people aware of the "francification" of Africa and the social, economic and political ramifications of this. When I was there, the hallway was a timeline of all the African dictators and their dirty wars.

But don't let this stop you from visiting. If you just want to find a place in Paris that is less uptight then Rue St Honore and has a queue less deterring than the Louvre, I encourage you to visit and look and watch. It's fun!

Modigliani, Suicide, Rue Amyot & More

Modigliani; portrait of Jeanne Hebuterne

Do you ever feel there are times when all the crisscrossed paths of life meet at an intersection that make you stop and say, "Isn't life amazing!" That happened to me in Paris last week.

I was wandering through the 5th arrondisement getting deliberately lost as always in this city, to see new things and hopefully be surprised. I was surprised when I suddenly found myself in Rue Amyot and thought I recognised the name from somewhere. I then remembered it was mentioned in a book I had recently read called Never Any End to Paris, by Spanish author Enrique Vila-Matas. According to this work of fiction, Modigliani's lover and artist, Jeanne Hebuterne, killed herself in this street by hurling herself out of the fifth floor window of her parents' apartment. Perhaps as some sort of statement or cry of desperation, she did this the day after Modigliani died.  Jeanne was 8 months pregnant with Modigliani's second child. And the building number was also 8.

I was so intrigued as to whether this was indeed fact or fiction, I did some research. And sure enough, the address and unfortunate end to Heberturne are both historically correct. So my pull to the street and building took on a more macabre face. How could such a young woman be so desperately unhappy that she would want to leave this world so soon and in such a violent way? Modigliani must have been one hell of a lover.

The strange thing is the building is still there in an innocuous street in the Latin Quarter, but there is no plaque, no physical memory of this woman or her fateful end at this site. It's as if she never existed.

I have always been a massive fan of Modigliani's, spending hours poring over the slender necks of his painted women wondering how I could make my neck look as graceful. But I knew nothing of this mysterious woman who killed herself aged nineteen, leaving behind a first daughter (who happens to still be alive). Apparently, Hebuterne was an artist in her own right, always overlooked in favor of her Italian lover.

Self Portrait

Portrait of Modigliani

She was also very beautiful.

No wonder "Modi" made her his muse.

As I stood at the bottom of building number 8 looking up to the fifth floor, I tried to imagine what Jeanne was thinking about before she opened that window. Was it a sunny day? Was she apologizing to her unborn child? Were her parents trying to wrench her away from the window?  We will never know. We can only look on and imagine. And I can thank life for leading me to that place and bringing her into my world.

images: (1) my studios, (2-6) mine, (6) no solo arte, (6) mermaids drown, (7) artmodel (8-9) wordpress, (10), painting mania, (11) art print on demand, (12,13) modigliani foundation

Gondwanaland in Paris

I was in Paris last week. I went for an early morning weekend stroll through the first arrondissement and was suddenly struck by a familiar but disconnected sight. Was that really the Aboriginal flag flying in a Parisian street? What on earth is it doing there?!

It turns out it belongs to Gallery Yapa, at number 18 rue Saint Roch near the Tuileries. It is apparently one of a handful of galleries that specializes in indigenous Australian art for well-heeled parisians.

I've always believed that everything looks better for some reason in Paris. But in this case, I think the red, black and yellow somehow looks more at home in the aussie outback.

McQueen McCool

I was wandering aimlessly through the Marais in Paris a few weeks ago and stumbled upon this wonderful photography exhibition of Steve McQueen at La Galerie de L'Instant. It's an amazing photographic gallery that just finished showing an exhibition on Kate Moss.

I think I have only ever seen one of McQueen's movies - The Great Escape - and I know he was hot and all that, but he was never one of my pin up boys. I was more into David Bowie androgyny than the muscular and rugged American acting hero. But I have to say these photos literally stopped me in my afternoon reverie and coaxed me into the galerie for a closer look.

Taken by John Dominis in 1963 for Life Magazine at McQueen's home in Palm Springs, these photos truly capture McQueen's sexy-sure cool even before he was the icon he became. Apparently this is the first time the photographs have been shown in a galerie. If you are in Paris before December 11th, it is worth taking a look.

If you can't get to Paris, try and find the book "Action" that has been published in conjunction with this exhibition. Nothing like going to bed with Mr McCool on your bedside table!

All images: John Dominis from galerie de l'instant