Afjei, a master Persian Calligrapher

This is one of the most beautiful renditions of my Persian name, Dordaneh (a unique pearl—dor: pearl, daneh: one, unique):

It was created for me some years ago by  Nasrollah Afjei, the Iranian master painter calligrapher. I visited his most recent works at the Gallerie Nicolas Flamel in Paris some time ago;  I felt a  great sense of admiration and satisfaction in front of his beautiful canvases like this one:

The following is one of his more recent ones from the “Siah Mashgh” series; as young students in Iran, we all had to practice our calligraphy with special pens and the exercises were called Siah Mashgh or the black homework because of the extra black ink!

Even though Persian and Arabic use the same alphabet (Persian has 4 more letters than Arabic which has 28), the writing is way more beautiful and lends itself  better to calligraphy. “Nas’taliq” is the most popular contemporary Persian calligraphy style.

The Persian script is exclusively written cursively: the majority of letters in a word connect to each other. A characteristic feature of this script, possibly tracing back to Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, is that much to the chagrin of foreigners vowels are underrepresented! It’s a bit like shorthand with consonants but mostly omitted vowels.

“In comparison to Europe and North America calligraphy is a far more popular and practiced form of art in Iran and in most other countries around this area. You can spot at least one piece of calligraphy hung on the walls of most Iranian households.”

Since the script is cursive, the appearance of a letter changes depending on its position: isolated, beginning (joined on the left), middle (joined on both sides), and end (joined on the right) of a word.

Afjei is a genius in morphing them into a beautiful image that is part painting and part calligraphy…

I am wondering how Mister Afjei would create his masterpieces had he to work with the old Persian Cuneiform!

For those of you who can still read Persian, here is the poem that Nasrollah Afjei painted/calligraphed for me from the 14th century Persian poet, Shah Nematollah Vali. The main verse where you find my name roughly means “each one of us has a beautiful unique pearl”:

و لیکن هر یکی‌ از ما نکو دردانه ای‌ داریم

اگر رندی و می نوشی بیا میخانه ای داریم

و گر تو عشق می بازی نکو جانانه ای داریم

اگر از عقل می پرسی ندارد نزد ما قدری

وگر مجنون همی جوئی دل دیوانه ای داریم

درین خلوتسرای دل نشسته دلبری با ما

هزاران جان فدای او که خوش میخانه ای داریم

تو گر گنجی همی جوئی در آ در کنج دل با ما

که گنج ما بود معمور و در ویرانه ای داریم

همه غرقیم و سرگردان درین دریای بی پایان

ولیکن هر یکی از ما نکو دُردانه ای داریم

چنین جائی که ما داریم به نزد او چه خواهد بود

برای شمع عشق او عجب پروانه ای داریم

خراباتست و ما سرمست و سید جام می بر دست

درین میخانهٔ باقی ، می مستانه ای داریم

Visit this great site for some amazing calligraphy here.

I met some beautiful women at Paris Photo

My friend Anahita Ghabaian, the owner of  Silk Road Galleryinvited  me to go and see her great photo collection at the Grand Palais. I went and discovered the most beautiful women of the world! I didn’t know many of the newcomers to the scene like Paolo Roversi:

The above photo reminds me of my friend, Maureen.

I liked his other-worldly portraits where even the nudes were not in your face!

A jewel of a photo for me was Brancusi’s Eileen on the bench of his studio; I have appreciated his sculptures for ever and his “sleeping muse” kept me company for years.

The highlight for me was the Silk Gallery’s Persian Women; I met the super talented Shadi Ghadirian with her new collection of Miss Butterfly (Shahparak khanom):

A graceful and delicate butterfly/woman gets trapped in the web of a spider…


I knew her for her “Ghajar” and “Like Everyday” collections:

The late Bahman Jalali’s “image of imagination” was watching me quietly from the wall:

Iranian photographers’ works are regularly presented to museums and other institutions everywhere thanks to the Silk Road Gallery ; I like Rana Javadi’s Termeh clad woman:

There was a gorgeous sun setting on Grand Palais that made everything glow in the golden hour; perfect for taking pictures!

After Iran I went to Africa starting from Egypt and Youssef Nabil’s taunting girls:

then to Morocco and Lalla Essaydi’s “I want to be Shirin Neshat when I grow up” image; there is something about the written text that fascinates me:

The great surprise were the other Africans like this beautiful portrait, by Soungalo Malé, of this girl in her sunday suit in 1960; she looks at you with modesty but elegance:

I fell in love with this vintage photo of Ian Berry’s African Collection; a small print that made me smile:

The energy of the place made me forget my aching feet so I plowed on…

I was happy to see Sissi Farassat’s  Andrea, swimming in a sea of sequins:

I love fashion photography and I wasn’t disappointed! Cathleen Naundorf’s Dior 2007 collection made me want to color it pink:

Kate Moss was omnipresent but I liked Annie Leibovitz’s protrait of hers (bellow); she is best friends with the camera and many of her portraits were shouting from multiple galleries!

I saw Leibovitz’s pilgrimage photos too and I loved them all; here is the one I like to include here with all its majesty:

On the other end of the spectrum was Chris Bucklow‘s a thousand points of light that reminded me of Castaneda’s Don Genaro!

I like big cities and skyscrapers so I easily connected with Gail Albert Halaban’s  “Dance studio” from her Out my window NY city collection. Put that on your wall and the whole world changes…

The sun was shining when I went in the Grand Palais,

and I came out when it was growing dark; the site of the Petit Palais in the Parisian “blue hour” was indeed majestic:

Visit the  Silk Road Gallery  here

It’s a scary scary Halloween

These are scary times people! The tricksters have been at it for the past couple of years and everybody’s scared…Scared of the U.S. economy, scared of the future of Euro, scared of Greece and the Latin European countries going down in flames and scared of the horrifying islamists! Do we really need more ghouls and demons?

There are no trick or treaters in Paris but I can’t help thinking about Halloweens in United States; I love this fun holiday and the whole tradition of choosing the pumpkins, carving them and waiting for little kids to come begging for candies.

The best halloween I’ve had was years ago in Salem Massachusetts; it was raining and the whole neighborhood was covered with gorgeous foliage (on the trees and on the ground). I am getting a bit nostalgic here so here is the last pumpkin I actually carved in California a couple of years ago:

I am getting used to Halloween in europe though—this year I actually bought some pumpkins whereas last year in Zurich I just made a poster for the occasion!

My very frightening but prescient Holloween post of 3 years ago:

Trick-or-Treat, a blood red Halloween

Halloween in Darfur

On a happier note, watch the great Peanuts Pumpkin story here.

 

Art paris 2011: a short walk from sublime to sordid

Art Paris, a major event in the international Art scene took place last month in Paris and was everything from sublime…

…to sordid:

The following are the works that caught and kept my attention so let’s just start from the beginning; if you are lucky you get in the Grand Palais from the VIP entrance and not the main one (below) where you have to wait with the unwashed masses:

The huge glass dome is stunning on its own so imagine how spectacular it was over these amazing galleries.

The first booth had these curious works by Devorah Sperber:

Spools of tread stand for dabs of paint and the images that were hung upside down are only recognized when you see them through an optical device.

The colored thread spools make an abstract pattern that comes to focus when viewed through—in this case— a crystal ball; Cezanne’s still life (below) is recognizable when viewed through this clear acrylic sphere (above).

Without the optical device, you are just looking at thousands of colored tread spools—1470 of them in this case!

The most surprising to me was Van Eyck’s masterpiece, The Virgin of Chancellor Rolin:

The whole image below is recognizable in the little ball above. Magic made of 5272 spools of thread.

On the lighter side of the spectrum, Mister Spock was patiently waiting for me in this work called “Mirror Universe”; like the artist herself, I too remember the 1967 Star Trek episode “Mirror, Mirror” in which a transporter mishap switches the crew of the Enterprise with their evil counterparts, trapping them in a “savage parallel universe.”

That image could be seen through a hemispherical mirror:

I loved the work of the super talented Dutch Artist, Pieke Bergmans:

Liquid light bulbs or “Light Blubs” as she calls them are hand blown bulbs presented attached to pendant and desk lamps or resting on old office furniture.

I met the artist, Aurore Vermue, posing with the spectacular pin and button artwork of Ran Hwang,

in front of the fabulous Kashya Hildebrand gallery:

A nice discovery for me was the work of Katayoun Rouhi; she uses Persian calligraphy in her perspectives; I particularly liked this painting with the little girl in a forest of poetry:

I was the only one bending to be able to read the writings that were all upside down:

Nick Gentry’s portraits made of floppy disks were interesting in their own way:

I had forgotten these disks, superseded by other storage media in only a few years…

These beautiful objects by Winus Lee Yee Mei were called “a group of boobs”:

it was hard not to touch!

The show took a turn for the whimsical with Mauro Perucchetti: from the three little pigs to giant pills and all in Swarovski crystal, resin and arylic,

I liked his “gay” superheroes:

These little child-figures covered with brightly dyed hanji-made scales in yellow and silver are the work of Sun Rae Kim who created these bodiless suits after her daughter, Tscho-Young; they were so cute:

The mind blowing opposite was Jan Fabre’s insect covered sculptures; the Belgian Fabre is a multidisciplinary artist, designer, sculptor, playwright and stage designer. I Just found out that he likes these jewel scarabs because of his great grandfather who’s been a famous entomologist. Yeap, these are beetles people!

The other Belgian great was Wim Delvoye and his persian carpet clad real stuffed pig. This sold for 180,000 euros and I am sure the buyer wasn’t an Iranian!

On a more serene note, Gonkar Gyatso, the Tibetan artist, had “Buddha in modern Times”. You could spend an hour exploring little stories embedded in the image:

I liked the straightforward “Paris Block” by Ralph Fleck; I discovered his site and loved his “figures”.

Persian artists being a hot commodity, Kambiz Sabri was the other Iranian artist showing his sculptures like this funny “pillow”:

So to recap, I went from Philippe Pasqua‘s gory skulls (which by the way I love),

to the sublime Kim Kyung Soo’s “the full moon story”:

Her photos were truly arresting; pure poetry…

And in all this, Albert Watson’s David Bowie was sleeping:

I am very happy I got to know some of these artists’ works; take the time to discover them for yourself. The post has all their links.

Another Spring, Another Nowruz, Nature can be kind…

Nature can be kind even though it has not been so in the last few days in Japan…I went out to park Montsouris, close to my apartment in Paris to take some pictures from the gentler side of Nature.

Everything was so beautiful I almost forgot the Japanese meltdown (nuclear and else…) for a few minutes; the purple crocus made me nostalgic:

I was born in Khorasan, the world’s most important saffron producing region, and the yellow pistils of this modest bulb flower is what becomes the most expensive spice in the world: zaferan or saffron.

Now back to the park where the most flamboyant were the primaveras (primulas):

I ask the eternal question: is anything more effortlessly beautiful than a flower?

I have to wait for the tulips to come out one of these days:

nature weaves beautiful rugs:

The pink blossoms over a stream were so pretty:

This one was earlier today at Saint Germain:

but right outside my place, the pansies were going crazy:

I took the picture with a big smile on my face—I love pansies—and later today I made this dress out of these gorgeous flowers:

To see my previous posts about the persian New Year and to see some beautiful poetry:

Last year’s Green Nowruz go here

Nowruz 1388 go here

Haft seen, haft sheen and everything in between go here

“Pourquoi les hommes ne savent-ils pas
Que la capucine n’est pas un hasard…” Sepehri

HAPPY NEW YEAR, NOWRUZ PIROUZ!

The International Woman’s Day is March 8th

On the eve of he international women’s day, I would like to go back to the superb Parvin Etessami’s poem about the Persian women ‘s emancipation from Hejab in 1936. She died 70 years ago at the age of 34.

زن در ایران، پیش از این گویی که ایرانی نبود
پیشه‌اش، جز تیره‌روزی و پریشانی نبود
زندگی و مرگش اندر کنج عزلت می‌گذشت
زن چه بود آن روزها، گر زآن که زندانی نبود
کس چو زن اندر سیاهی قرنها منزل نکرد
کس چو زن در معبد سالوس، قربانی نبود
در عدالتخانه انصاف زن شاهد نداشت
در دبستان فضیلت زن دبستانی نبود
دادخواهیهای زن می‌ماند عمری بی‌جواب
آشکارا بود این بیداد؛ پنهانی نبود
بس کسان را جامه و چوب شبانی بود، لیک
در نهاد جمله گرگی بود؛ چوپانی نبود
از برای زن به میدان فراخ زندگی
سرنوشت و قسمتی جز تنگ‌میدانی نبود
نور دانش را ز چشم زن نهان می‌داشتند
این ندانستن، ز پستی و گرانجانی نبود
زن کجا بافنده میشد، بی نخ و دوک هنر
خرمن و حاصل نبود، آنجا که دهقانی نبود
میوه‌های دکهٔ دانش فراوان بود، لیک
بهر زن هرگز نصیبی زین فراوانی نبود
در قفس می‌آرمید و در قفس می‌داد جان
در گلستان نام ازین مرغ گلستانی نبود
بهر زن تقلید تیه فتنه و چاه بلاست
زیرک آن زن، کو رهش این راه ظلمانی نبود
آب و رنگ از علم می‌بایست، شرط برتری
با زمرد یاره و لعل بدخشانی نبود
جلوهٔ صد پرنیان، چون یک قبای ساده نیست
عزت از شایستگی بود از هوسرانی نبود
ارزش پوشانده کفش و جامه را ارزنده کرد
قدر و پستی، با گرانی و به ارزانی نبود
سادگی و پاکی و پرهیز یک یک گوهرند
گوهر تابنده تنها گوهر کانی نبود
از زر و زیور چه سود آنجا که نادان است زن
زیور و زر، پرده‌پوش عیب نادانی نبود
عیبها را جامهٔ پرهیز پوشانده‌ست و بس
جامهٔ عجب و هوی بهتر ز عریانی نبود
زن، سبکساری نبیند تا گرانسنگ است و بس
پاک را آسیبی از آلوده دامانی نبود
زن چون گنجور است و عفت گنج و حرص و آز دزد
وای اگر آگه ز آیین نگهبانی نبود
اهرمن بر سفرهٔ تقوی نمیشد میهمان
زآن که می‌دانست کآنجا جای مهمانی نبود
پا به راه راست باید داشت، کاندر راه کج
توشه‌ای و رهنوردی، جز پشیمانی نبود
چشم و دل را پرده میبایست اما از عفاف
چادر پوسیده، بنیاد مسلمانی نبود

 

It is hard for me to translate this beautiful poem to you but I read it with deep respect for this great poet who died so young. The image is the Persian woman’s face shaped like the map of Iran and in a chador…

To see the most beautiful Persian women go here.

Hellooooooo Paris!

I am finally in Paris—to stay. Looking for a job and an apartment and so happy that even the gray rainy days don’t make me homesick for my sunny California (yet)!

Everything looks kind of rosy in the Luxembourg Garden:

I am going to take you on a short promenade in Paris: in the morning you have a quick coffee in your hotel room,

If you are lucky you can see the Etoile with almost no traffic:

but if you are really lucky you will catch some new version of the Beatles crossing the streets:

and then you buy your metro ticket (and maybe cigarettes if you are one of my girlfriends),

from here:

and head down to your favorite café in Saint Germain,

or any other nondescript one like this one,

and watch people (something I am not very good at—coming from the U.S. where staring at others is considered a major faux pas):

and more people,

or watch them watch you!

Of course in Paris, everyone is a philosopher and you better get used to it:

and most waiters are annoying!

I personally prefer watching the iconic Parisian rooftops than people:

and temporary exhibitions like the one below:

Next, I will drag you to see the eternal Bonaparte (or Malaparte according to the rest of Europe!)

After lunch, you feed the little sparrows in Place des Vosges,

or see Quasimodo feed them in front of the majestic Notre Dame cathedral:

You may want to see the stage makers in the old Paris Opera house:

and hear me curse Chagall for the nth time for having defaced the original ceiling!

we can go see Dali and ask him why his Venus has open drawers…

From the Montparnasse tower you can see most of the landmarks:

I love this view with the Luxembourg garden as a blob of green in the middle of my photo:

And when you are dead tired you go back home but not before admiring the beautiful bridges of the city of light:

you buy some bread (low carb dieters beware) because that’s all you can afford if you buy anything else in Paris!

A glass of wine and a piece of cheese will be all you need,

you may admire the blue hour from your window:

you may  read a little bit,

then you go to sleep and dream about great stuff…

and wake up to an early deserted Trocadéro:

and watch the rainy morning start in front of a bitter espresso in a very small cup:

and wonder about what the hell you are doing away from the sunny California and your friends and Cyrus,

and the good old  Santa Monica…

but then you remember that you wanted to do that all your life and you better do your best to be happy in the land of Molière!

On Thanksgiving, is Turkey part of Europe?

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I always cook two turkeys no matter how many people are coming to my house (one in the oven and one in a pot) and this year will not be different even though it will be in Geneva and not Los Angeles.

Some pictures from the ghost of thanksgivings past—brushing the turkeys with butter and saffron),

prepared in front of the Macy’s Parade on TV!

with great persian stuffing camouflaged as the usual stove top…(it has pomegranate seeds people!)

My son has always been very thankful for the turkeys and I miss cooking for him this year…

In a few hours, this below:

undergoes metamorphosis to become this:

Last year I was shocked to know the turkeys were 120 dollars each! Switzerland is not this bird’s natural habitat but I desperatly wanted to make Turkey a part of Europe!

We made the usual two birds with my friends and they turned out great – below, they are taking a nap:

No thanksgiving preparation should be without the company of some Petite Arvine (the best Swiss White Wine)…

and again after hours of fun work, they are ready to be consumed!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING PEOPLE—wherever you are!

Two Queens, one King and the holy Trinity College by the river Cam

University of Cambridge, England, is one of the oldest universities in the world (800 years old) and is made up of 31 colleges. A college is where students live, eat and socialize. It is also the place where students receive small group teaching sessions, known as supervisions. This post will be about the grandest and most magnificent of these colleges: Trinity College.

I had the best guide to take me around several of these colleges but for this post, Trinity it is. It was founded by Henry VIII in 1546 as part of the University of Cambridge, combining two older colleges that existed since 1317 and 1324:

This is the clock gate with a statue of one of the older colleges founders, Edward III (and yes it did take me 20 minutes to walk 20 feet!)

“Pugne pro patria” or fight for your country he’s preaching with a beer belly and three crowns in his hand.  Edward III quartered the Royal Arms of England (the three lions) with the ancient arms of France, the fleurs-de-lis on a blue field, to signal his claim to the French throne.

The iron-work of the gates in the Nevile’s court leading to the “backs” is very impressive (I found a funny criticism of the gates in an old book—they were built for a total sum of 4 pounds in 1691):

I love this little feather stuck on these ornaments:

Trinity has many notable alumni but for me its most distinguished is Isaac Newton; this is where he measured the speed of sound (you can still clap your hands and hear the echo):

He is now standing in the college’s chapel:

For the ones who don’t want to decipher the words above, here is William Wordsworth’ poem (1850):

“Near me hung Trinity’s loquacious clock,
Who never let the quarters, night or day,
Slip by him unproclaimed, and told the hours
Twice over with a male and female voice.
Her pealing organ was my neighbour too;
And from my pillow, looking forth by light
Of moon or favouring stars, I could behold
The antechapel where the statue stood
Of Newton with his prism and silent face,
The marble index of a mind for ever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.”

Newton is surrounded by bright minds in the chapel and even A Man for all Seasons. I am almost sure that the second gentleman from the left is Sir Thomas More:


Of course you should first get in the chapel to see all of that!


The most beautiful sight is the Wren library—off limit to cameras—which has exquisite classical proportions and maximizes space and light having bookcases below window level. It has Newton’s own copy of the first edition of Principia Mathematica, with hand written notes for the second edition.

Trinity College undergraduate gowns are dark blue, as opposed to the black favored by most other Cambridge colleges:

Unlike any other Cambridge college the porters—aka grass police—always wear black bowler hats; they make sure that as with many other Cambridge colleges, the grassed courtyards are generally out of bounds for everyone except the Fellows or me who was accompanied by a Fellow.

And this is their headquarter:

If you get lucky to be invited to a High Table in the Great Hall, you will have a formal dinner with very interesting Fellows but if you are very lucky, like me, you will sit between the most senior Fellows, Anil Seal and Béla Bollobás!

This is what  you are going to eat and drink (we were lucky enough to inherit a great Sauternes left over from the previous night’s big dinner); I was warned not to pass the serving platters to the person sitting by me and always wait for the waiter to do it!

And of course row after row of tea cups…

The great court is even more breathtaking at night where the college bathes in soft lights and the sound of the central fountain:

Just imagine going to sleep (like the other students of the college) with the sound of this old spring:

If you are a visiting scholar, you may stay in the college,

right beside the Master’s Lodge—in this case Sir Martin Rees:

I so wanted to peek through Sir Rees’ house but the best I could do was to take a furtive picture and be happy with his TED talks...

One place I could visit was the neighboring guest house in this blue hour,

and delight at the “green teas” you could have in the morning by the window…

Last but not least on my list is the river Cam and its romantic bridges made even more beautiful by the Punts (flat-bottomed boat with a square-cut bow):

It couldn’t get greener, wetter, fresher than this hazy beautiful morning spent visiting the Cambridge colleges:

And this punter, oblivious to the fine rain, enjoys the shallow and gravelly river, from one Cam bridge to the next:

After the first couple of colleges you either need a coffee at Caffé Nero accompanied by great fudge from fudge kitchen,

or something stronger: a carajillo just like Mitra D. likes it!

To be continued…