Michele Roohani

I absolutely adore the work of Tapio Wirkkala, the Finnish glass designer I discovered a couple of weeks ago. Glass may be great as a medium but in the hands of this artist, it becomes magical…

We’ve all seen  some of his designs like the Finlandia vodka bottles but he’s a poet when his work comes done to a less commercial level. I had a great time in the Decoratif Arts museum of Paris.

I had the advantage of a great view to Paris — check the Eiffel tower’s reflection in Wirkkala’s five Murano glass bottles’ window:

There were some funny glass (and wood) sculptures like Richard Meitner’s fish:

I was pleasantly surprised by the Czech artist, Libuše Niklová (1934–1981), a famous toy designer. From the 1950s to the 1980s, Niklová created toys like the inflatable animals and dolls (I had one clone of it in Tehran with a little bell in it!)

“She had the brilliant idea of using flexible pleated piping that squeals when pressed. The result was her “accordion” toys: a cat, dog, goat and lion that can be taken apart and reassembled like a construction game.”

Check out her toys links at the end of the post; you’ll have fun.

As long as I was with the funny stuff, Snoopy always makes me smile:

His creator, Charles Schulz, famously said:

“Yesterday I was a dog. Today I’m a dog. Tomorrow I’ll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There’s so little hope for advancement.”

I saw one of the first huge ad posters for The laughing cow or “La Vache Qui Rit” cheese:

The permanent collection of this museum has a rich array of chairs:

from Mies van der Rohe‘s Barcelona chair to Ron Arad’s folding one:

Olivier Mourgue designed his well-known classic Djinn chairs (1965) made famous by ’2001: A Space Odyssey’ by Stanley Kubrick. Stanley Kubrick created a futuristic rotating Hilton hotel in Space. In it, the Djinn chairs received their lasting moment of fame. Olivier Mourgue named the chairs ‘Djinn” which in Muslim legend, is a spirit often capable of assuming human or animal form and exercising supernatural influence over people (Genie in English):

Do you remember the beautiful scene of the Hilton Lobby in Space Odyssey?

I should stop before I make this post about Kubrick!

I also liked this statue of wood and nails by Janine Janet, made for a window of Balenciaga in Paris in 1959; It’s called the queen:

One of the best things about this underrated museum is its breathtaking views of Paris; I kept running from one window to the next!

I took all of these pictures with my android phone and this is the proof:

Last but not least, my favorite view from the building is this one looking down at Place des Pyamides:

the museum’s site here.

the cute toys here.

Tapio Wirkkala here. 

Yesterday was the universal Labor Day, May first, and the day that France celebrate with “Muguet”, tons of it!

This is a flower I love and it’s hard to find in the U.S.

Not only all the flower shops are offering them but there are literally one Lily of the Valley stand at every corner of every street!

“Je porte Bonheur” means “I bring happiness” and this is what this flower is supposed to do for the recipient.

I have a preference for fragrant flowers and Lily of the valley is a tiny flower that perfumes the whole room! The flower is also known as Our Lady’s tears, since, according to Christian legend, the lily of the valley came into being from Eve’s tears after she was driven with Adam from the Garden of Eden,although this seems unlikely, since in Catholic parlance, “Our Lady” refers to the Virgin Mary. Another Christian legend states that Mary’s tears turned to lily of the valley when she cried at the crucifixion of Jesus, and because of this it is also known as Mary’s tears.

Some of the florists are mixing them with roses (above and below):

but I love them by themselves, pure, white, fragrant and unassuming…

Other names include May lily, May bells, lily constancy, ladder-to-heaven, male lily, and muguet (French).

“Sweetest of the flowers a-blooming
In the fragrant vernal days
Is the Lily of the Valley
With its soft, retiring ways.”

“Like the Lily of the Valley
In her honesty and worth,
Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue
In the quiet nooks of earth.”   Paul Laurence Dunbar

I love this picture, the talented Marie Ancolie Romanet, sent me yesterday…exquisite!

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.

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!

I am utterly saddened by Jean Ferrat’s death; I’ve been wanting to write to him, find him, thank him for years of happiness he’s brought to my life and now it’s just too late…Après toi, qui chantera Aragon?

Ferrat immortalized Aragon’s love poems:

“Que serais-je sans toi qui vins à ma rencontre
Que serais-je sans toi qu’un coeur au bois dormant
Que cette heure arrêtée au cadran de la montre
Que serais-je sans toi que ce balbutiement…”

“Que ce soit dimanche ou lundi
Soir ou matin, minuit, midi
Dans l’enfer ou le paradis
Les amours aux amours ressemblent
C’était hier que je t’ai dit
Nous dormirons ensemble”

Even before he died, I would well up every time I was watching the young Ferrat sing “Ma môme”, in Godard’s film: My life to live. It’s Ferrat himself at the jukebox in this marvelous scene.

“Ma môme, ell’ joue pas les starlettes
Ell’ met pas des lunettes
De soleil
Ell’ pos’ pas pour les magazines
Ell’ travaille en usine
A Créteil

Dans une banlieue surpeuplée
On habite un meublé
Elle et moi
La fenêtre n’a qu’un carreau
Qui donne sur l’entrepôt
Et les toits

On va pas à Saint-Paul-de-Vence
On pass’ tout’s nos vacances
A Saint-Ouen
Comme famille on n’a qu’une marraine
Quelque part en Lorraine
Et c’est loin

Mais ma môme elle a vingt-cinq berges
Et j’crois bien qu’la Saint’Vierge
Des églises
N’a pas plus d’amour dans les yeux
Et ne sourit pas mieux
Quoi qu’on dise

L’été quand la vill’ s’ensommeille
Chez nous y a du soleil
Qui s’attarde
Je pose ma tête sur ses reins
Je prends douc’ment sa main
Et j’la garde

On s’dit toutes les choses qui nous viennent
C’est beau comm’ du Verlaine
On dirait
On regarde tomber le jour
Et puis on fait l’amour
En secret”

Anna Karina is exquisite in Godard’s film; that one scene with the beautiful “chanson” redeems this mediocre movie.

Jean Ferrat stayed true to his principles—close to the communist party, he never became a member and condemned the atrocities of Stalinism.  Listen to his Bilan here. 

“Ah ils nous en ont fait avaler des couleuvres
De Prague à Budapest de Sofia à Moscou
Les staliniens zélés qui mettaient tout en oeuvre
Pour vous faire signer les aveux les plus fous
Vous aviez combattu partout la bête immonde
Des brigades d’Espagne à celles des maquis
Votre jeunesse était l’histoire de ce monde
Vous aviez nom Kostov ou London ou Slansky

Au nom de l’idéal qui nous faisait combattre
Et qui nous pousse encore à nous battre aujourd’hui

Ce socialisme était une caricature
Si les temps on changé des ombres sont restées
J’en garde au fond du coeur la sombre meurtrissure
Dans ma bouche à jamais le soif de vérité”

These are some of his disc covers throughout years of offering us the most unforgettable songs:

Last but not least, my favorite song of Ferrat singing Aragon, Dans le silence de la ville:

“Derrière les murs dans la rue
Que se passe-t-il quel vacarme
Quels travaux quels cris quelles larmes
Ou rien la vie un linge écru

Sèche au jardin sur une corde
C’est le soir cela sent le thym
Un bruit de charrette s’éteint
Une guitare au loin s’accorde

La la la…

Il fait jour longtemps dans la nuit
Un zeste de lune un nuage
Que l’arbre salue au passage
Et le coeur n’entend plus que lui

Ne bouge pas c’est si fragile
Si précaire si hasardeux
Cet instant d’ombre pour nous deux
Dans le silence de la ville”

Heureux celui qui meurt d’aimer…

I made this video clip as an homage to this  great  friend, humaniste, poet, musician:

watch my clip on youtube here Ma môme here

It’s one of those great (and gray) September mornings in Paris and I take my poor jet lagged body out to take pictures of a city that looks more majestic without its occupants or tourists like me!

I would like to take you with me; first we take the bus:

the streets are all empty—one of the oldest surviving buildings in Paris from the 16th century:

even the marché is not open yet,

Saint Michel is unrecognizable at 7 am:

the cafés are just opening,

walking along the river bank in Isle Saint Louis,

Notre Dame is majestically melancholic,

but pretty soon, life starts in the city:

I decide to go towards the Marais; I am surprised to see a Pain Quotidien on my way—so far from Brentwood and Westwood but exactly the same menu:

rushing towards Place des Vosges, the street signs stop me:

its’ too early in the morning for gooseberries,

I really need a strong coffee,

but of course the waitress cleans up the street and not the table left from the previous clients,

the galleries around the square are too commercial but I am glad to discover a painter from Rafsandjan, Reza Sarrafi, in one of the windows:

the wine paintings are from another painter, Annekov:

Voilà! Now you know.

I am not kidding when I say I love this city—here are my other posts about Paris:

Alone in Paris

Paris and Paul Newman

Pretty girl in Paris

Giacometti, a post from Montparnasse

I met Arcimboldo and some Germans in Paris

Opera Garnier in Paris

Paris was a woman

Paris at 6 am

Bread and Music

The emotionally fragile Jean Seberg died 30 years ago but her pictures are still as fresh and beautiful as the day they were made.

Born in Iowa, she gained fame in France—selling the International Herald tribune to Jean Paul Belemondo in Godard’s “Breathless” (à bout de souffle), a major work of the French New Wave:

Married to Romain Gary, she supported the black panthers as well as native Indians’s rights. In retaliation, the FBI fabricated rumors about her. Unable to defend herself, she fell into depression and commited suicide in August 1979.”Death is: a punishment to some, to some a gift, and to many a favor.”  Seneca

Her other major movie was “bonjour tristesse” (hello sadness) of Sagan; her real life was turbulent and tragic…

In Breathless, Godard shoots the entire movie on a handheld camera and even though his film is a bit on the slow side for today’s attention deficient viewer, the images he’s created are visually bold and pretty modern (the film was made in 1960).

Seberg remains the quintessential “gamine” in this movie; one of the most beautiful scenes of this film is when the street lamps start to  light up one after another on the Champs Elysées,

It’s Paris making a big entrance…Watch her in this short clip of Breathless here.To see my other post about a classic Alain Delon movie go here.And for l’Avventura check this link.

These are the most interesting jazz images i’ve seen! The exhibition in Quai Branly museum in Paris was amazingly rich with visual complements to my favorite genre of music. Catch it if you can but if you don’t, here’s my report:

Miles Davis remains one of my favorites—the following are mostly LP covers from the mid 20th century:

Bud Freeman,

To go through all of my images and get inspired to prepare them for this post, I’ve been  listening to Mingus’ “better get it in your soul”.

Just look at this super cool Count Basie cover by Andy Warhol:

Benny Carter plays pretty:

Sidney Bechet in Paris in 1952:

Dizzy Gillespie’s sextet,

Daddy plays the horn,

The beautiful music of Charlie (the Bird) Parker,

I like these very 50′s percussion disc covers,

I am listening to Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane’s “Nutty”,

Now some posters from the 1920′s forward—Cary Hauser’s Jonny Mene La Danse from 1928:

Look at the musicians here:

Grand Bal de Nuit,

Jan Mara’s Mezze Mezzrow is soooo not “Kenny (my middle name is boring) G”!

A relatively more recent poster from the Lincoln Center:

Now some paintings—Harlem Jazz by Winold Reiss, 1925:

The Lindy Hop by Miguel Covarrubias, 1936:

James Weeks‘ Two Musicians;

Nicolas de Stael‘s Musicians:

Blues by Archibald J. Motley Jr, 1929

Bernard Buffet‘s light drawings:

This Coltrane image is haunting:

and a very politically incorrect piece here called “cake-walk”—can’t imagine an American museum showing this:

Last but not least was this fabulous Fred Astair’s homage to Mr Bojangles on a huge screen that I manipulated of course!

to see him dance watch this absolutely great clip here.

It was very hard to take these pictures (some were on very fast slide shows!) and to clean and edit them later but it was a labor of love; I’ve been wanting to do a post about Jazz for the longest time but where to start? Where to end? Who to cover? This was the shortest way I could record my visit to the Land of Jazz. Thank you Daniel Soutif!

Voilà! Now you know…I have not even started talking about some of my other favorites: Louis Armstrong, Bill Evans, Fats Waller, Keith Jarrett, Ahmad Jamal, Lionel Hampton, etc…

To see some cool clips from the coolest of them all, Miles Davis and John Coltrane, go here

for a taste of the great Monk, go here

to hear the Bird,  click here

to see the genius of Fred Astaire here.

Just came back from a brief stay in Paris and these are some of my pictures:

The Louvre is glorious in early morning,

some jet-lagged tourists were the only people around,

early birds can witness the majesty of an empty Louvre Court.

When you wake up that early in the morning, everything is beautifully calm even in the nauseatingly crowded Paris,

Another lonely hyper-connected dude:

I met Jon Stewart at Deux Magots for breakfast that day—he made me laugh…

Angelina still has the best Mont Blanc of the city and it’s my duty to check the quality every time I am in town:

Of course my favorite is always “un petit noir au comptoir” (a quick small espresso at the cafés’ counter):

“Paris is a movable feast…”

Couldn’t resist adding this image of Maryam from a couple of years ago…

Pretty girls who wish to model for you are not rare in Paris and I found a great one, Lisa Tahmassi, to walk with me in La Butte aux Cailles neighborhood . You are never sure whether it will rain or not—an umbrella is usually a must in almost any season.

These two old gentlemen were so out of place in this very chic neighborhood (ok, the café was pretty beat-up)—they couldn’t take their eyes off of her!

Ah…the never-retiring beret…

It was too early to start drinking anything but an espresso at the counter:

I love these no-fuss cafés of Paris where you can have the best “petit noir” for 1.5 euros.

A world in turmoil screams for our attention,

the financial meltdown was starting to hit the front pages.

I have more pictures of Lisa but they have to wait for another post, another day.

Putting these images together, I am reminded of this terrific, light-hearted song about being young and in love in Paris by Jacques Brel,”Les Prenoms De Paris” (Names For Paris); listen to it here.

“Le soleil qui se lève
Et caresse les toits
Et c’est Paris le jour
La Seine qui se promène
Et me guide du doigt
Et c’est Paris toujours
Et mon cœur qui s’arrête
Sur ton cœur qui sourit
Et c’est Paris bonjour
Et ta main dans ma main
Qui me dit déjà oui
Et c’est Paris l’amour
Le premier rendez-vous
A l’île Saint-Louis
C’est Paris qui commence
Et le premier baiser
Volé aux Tuileries
Et c’est Paris la chance
Et le premier baiser
Reçu sous un portail
Et c’est Paris romance
Et deux têtes qui tournent
En regardant Versailles
Et c’est Paris la France

Des jours que l’on oublie
Qui oublient de nous voir
Et c’est Paris l’espoir
Des heures où nos regards
Ne sont qu’un seul regard
Et c’est Paris miroir
Rien que des nuits encore
Qui séparent nos chansons
Et c’est Paris bonsoir
Et ce jour-là enfin
Où tu ne dis plus non
Et c’est Paris ce soir
Une chambre un peu triste
Où s’arrête la ronde
Et c’est Paris nous deux
Un regard qui reçoit
La tendresse du monde
Et c’est Paris tes yeux
Ce serment que je pleure
Plutôt que ne le dis
C’est Paris si tu veux
Et savoir que demain
Sera comme aujourd’hui
C’est Paris merveilleux

Mais la fin du voyage
La fin de la chanson
Et c’est Paris tout gris
Dernier jour, dernière heure
Première larme aussi
Et c’est Paris la pluie
Ces jardins remontés
Qui n’ont plus leur parure
Et c’est Paris l’ennui
La gare où s’accomplit
La dernière déchirure
Et c’est Paris fini
Loin des yeux loin du cœur
Chassé du paradis
Et c’est Paris chagrin
Mais une lettre de toi
Une lettre qui dit oui
Et c’est Paris demain
Des villes et des villages
Les roues tremblent de chance
C’est Paris en chemin
Et toi qui m’attends là
Et tout qui recommence
Et c’est Paris je reviens.” Jacques Brel