Another Valentine’s Day and another excuse to say I love you to people who matter—in the universal language of poetry and roses…

I am in love,

with  Italo Calvino but he doesn’t care much about me…I have to dedicate a post to him!

“Mon bel amour mon cher amour ma déchirure
Je te porte dans moi comme un oiseau blessé
Et ceux-là sans savoir nous regardent passer
Répétant après moi les mots que j’ai tressés
Et qui pour tes grands yeux tout aussitôt moururent” Aragon

Let’s stay in Europe with an Irish poet:

“Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.” Seamus Heaney

Some sexy poetry from the good old English poet:

“The things about you I appreciate
May seem indelicate:
I’d like to find you in the shower
And chase the soap for half an hour.
I’d like to have you in my power
And see your eyes dilate.” John Fuller

I wish all of my friends a very sweet Valentine:

One last poem from Fereydoon Moshiri:

بگذار که بر شاخه این صبح دلاویز
بنشینم و از عشق سرودی بسرایم
آنگاه به صد شوق چو مرغان سبکبال
پر گیرم ازین بام و به سوی تو بیایم
خورشید از آن دور از آن قله پر برف
آغوش کند باز همه مهر همه ناز
سیمرغ طلایی پر و بالی است که چون من
از لانه برون آمده دارد سر پرواز
پرواز به آنجا که نشاط است و امیدست
پرواز به آنجا که سرود است و سرور است
آنجا که سراپای تو در روشنی صبح
رویای شرابی است که در جام بلور است

“I’d like to be your only audience,

The final name in your appointment book,

Your future tense.”

If this wasn’t enough to satisfy your Valentine’s cravings you can see more of Valentine 2009 here and Valentine 2008 here.

To hear all the above poetry read by a great voice go here.

all the flowers in this post are from Marsano in Zurich http://www.marsano.ch

White is the color of purity, cleanliness, and innocence…or is it? I am surrounded and inspired by it lately and these are my white (ivory, ecru, eggshell, etc…) images:

I went out to take pictures yesterday; I love the quiet that sits with the snow,

even when it gets dark early.

These are my shoes,

and this is not,

these are LeNôtre’s shoes:

on more recent creations, this is a white interior,

and a very expensive exterior,

and people who can’t afford it:

Four white dogs,

and some not so white ones,

a white wedding gown,

a much simpler one,

and some pretty pearls to go with it,

and a white church to complete it!

Some punctual white statues,

and some timeless ones:

Sunlight flirting with a quiet white curtain,

in need of music:

to dance the “Swan Lake”,

or some other dance in white pants:

back in good old California, some white table at the Huntley’s:

with some great coffee in white cups,

white on white:

and San Vicente’s majestic magnolias…

see “my green movement” here

my “red post” here

The Quai Branly Museum presents the second PhotoQuai, the trendsetter biennial event dedicated to non-Western photography until November 22, 2009. Catch it if you can.

I was inspired to create this poster here and the clip at the end of the post:

Some of the images were breathtaking and I would like to share them with you.

The above image is from Abbas Kowsari; I call the next one by Gohar Dashti, “tea and tank”!

The Artistic Director of the Photoquai biennial is my friend, Anahita Ghabaian Etehadieh, Iranian founder and owner of the Silk Road Gallery, the only establishment in Iran dedicated exclusively to photography.

These two women were photgraphed by Bahman Jalali, one of the two curators of the exhibition:

More ambitious than the biennial itself, is the homage given to a sample of 165 years of Iranian photography, in the museum. It gives an overview of Iranian photography from the end of the 19th century, with the portraits from the Qajar era, up until the most contemporary works by major Iranian photographers. An uneven, discontinuous road full of great surprises…

The above photos were taken by Naser Al Din Shah himself, a photography enthusiast, and the following ones are by Armenian-Iranian photographer Antoine-Khan Sevruguin:

I love this shy Tar player:

The exhibition was especially interesting to me in its depth if not breadth of the older photos. I love these cute children photographed with their father in early 20th century peeking out of their hejab:

The  exhibit spills into 20th century with masterpieces like Kaveh Golestan’s images of Iran Iraq war:

This visual storytelling will continue in the Musée de la Monnaie, museum of the French Mint and Treasury until December 20th. The exhibition is called “between Hope and Chaos” dedicated to 30 years of Iranian photojournalism, the three most recent generations of Iranian photographers between the 1979 Islamic Revolution and 2009.

I would look for my favorite works exhibited by Newsha Tavakolian:

I prefer this one that I got from her site—there is something otherworldly about Persepolis under snow…

and Jamshid Bayrami’s:

Photoquai tries to highlight and promote artists unknown or little known in Europe encouraging cross-cultural dialogue across the globe.

A promenade along the Seine at quai Branly had been transformed into an open-air exhibition of photography where 50 photographers, chosen by the likes of Reza Deghati, the phenomenal Iranian photographer, exhibit their work.

Watch a great clip in TV5 here (even if you don’t speak french!)

165 years of Iranian photography here

PhotoQuai, Quai Branly Museum here

Iran, between Hope and Chaos here

Iran may be United States’ best/only ally in the hellish war of the tribal belt region between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

An ignorant approach to the Afghan realities and the “benevolent negligence” regarding Pakistan will have more dire consequences for the U.S. and the schizophrenic government of Iran (saddled by Iraq and Afghanistan’s unrest on both sides) may be a necessary ally in the necessary war…The Islamic Republic will do anything  to avoid facing up to the “enemy within” (aka millions of unhappy/angry Iranians)

Look at the map of the world’s most dangerous place; most of the 4,000,000 Pashtuns who live in the tribal belt between Afghanistan and Pakistan refuse to recognize the British-drawn Durand Line, which divides the two nations and splits families. Afghanistan, the fifth poorest country in the world with a life expectancy of 44 is deservedly called the “graveyard of empires”. It has been in a civil war in the past three decades.

The above picture, Exodus from Afghanistan,  from the formidable photojournalist Reza Deghati has haunted me for years—the silence of this cold journey moves me deeply. I almost forget the picture was taken just twenty years ago; “Time” has indeed suspended its flight in this  godforsaken country…

I met Reza in Paris last month at the opening of the exquisite exhibition (organized by my friend Anahita Ghabaian) of 165 year of Iranian Photography at the Quai Branly Museum. Stay tuned for next week’s post about PhotoQuai.

I was once again impressed by Reza,  the great master photographer. We talked about his humanitarian work at Aina, a media & Culture center in Afghanistan. His extraordinary talent deserves a post all to itself—I became a fan years ago thanks to his National geographic’s photos like this one:

Only a few months ago, the Pakistani military was still inclined to view the Taliban as agents of influence able to provide their government with help to contain the Afghanistan in the west as it confronted India to the east. As Roger Cohen puts it: “the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing—the result is self-amputation. Even Pakistan’s competent General Kayani, noted for his patience, diligence, intelligence and sheer determination, may be doing the wrong move in the right direction, too little too late.

Today’s news that Abdullah Abdullah has pulled out of the Afghanistan’s runoff election exasperated me even more; I can’t believe his official explanation for doing so but as Churchill says:

“in wartime, Truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of Lies”

and Afghanistan is deeply at war…

Take a look at Reza’s Webistan here.

Visit Aina here.

Visit the PhotQuai here. (click on “honoring Iranian Photography” to see some great photos)

Irving Penn, a master of American portraiture and fashion photography has always intrigued me by using the same sober backgrounds to photograph most of his subjects—beautiful Vogue models (like his wife of 42 years, Lisa Fonssagrives, below) or these seriously covered Moroccan women.

This 1971 image of these three Rissani women buried in their hejab (body bag) is haunting; just looking at them oppresses me…

But it seems that Penn had an affinity for all sorts of veiled women like the spellbinding Jean Patchett in this picture from 1949:

He’s been able to capture the absurdity of covering women from head to toe,

even though he’s known for photographing the most fashionable women in the world :

His fashion images are iconic in their elegant simplicity:

and so are these other pictures of his:

He remains a keen observer of his subject, a quiet painter of his model, an attentive chronicler of his time—this is probably the most accurate picture of Colette at that age:

and the most natural portrait that I know of Simone de Beauvoir:

Sometimes they chose to cover their hair like Georgia O’Keeffe:

Penn kept taking less serious pictures of yet other covered woman:

Throughout centuries, women have survived  ridiculous hats and oppressive veils and Irving Penn has been present to capture them all.

I finish with a quote from my favorite aesthete, Oscar Wilde : “I find it harder and harder every day to live up to my blue china”.

In Los Angeles, there is an exhibition of Irving Penn’s photographs at the Getty Museum.

A great article about Penn here.

A very scary Veiling dictionary (including Abaya—the one that looks like Belphégor) here.

Budapest, the neglected beauty on the Danube, is a city of friendly people, opulent buildings, golden domes, thermal baths and opera.

Budapest became a single city occupying both banks of the river with a unification on 1873 of right-bank Buda and with left-bank Pest.

A foreign city robs you of your prejudices about different neighborhoods—you look at everything with fresh virgin eyes.

Let’s start by my posh, but relatively inexpensive, hotel room and its great view:

grand cafés everywhere,

like the Callas :

The Hungarians are Opera-crazy and they have their elegant Opera Houses to show it:

There are plenty of beautiful Hungarian girls,

and boys:

and very proud ones at that: The Heroes’ Square welcomes you with seven Magyar chieftains (Magyar: Hungary) who led the Hungarian people in their proud history; I highlighted a couple that I liked best:

Now we’ll take the Budapest metro—super efficient and easy to use— to go places.

Like a good muslim, I first went to visit the great Saint Stephen Basilica:

the madonna looks friendlier in orthodox churches—somehow less aloof, more human…

In spite of all the gold in the public places, Budapest has its share of run-down buildings,

this huge metropolis is not as pretty as her smaller sister city, Prague,

but is as rich in history and as breathtaking in sights:

the sunset on the Danube is majestic:

Again as a good Shiite who does believe in Holocaust,  I went to visit the Dohany street Synagogue of Budapest, the world’s second largest that caters to a mix of Orthodox and Reformed Judaism unique to Hungary:

in spite of its Byzantine Moorish style, the similarities between this synagogue and a grand church are striking: there is an organ (Franz Liszt played on it once),

and even pulpits!

In the Jewish quarter,  you are constantly reminded of the Nazis’ atrocities:

Budapest is known for its 80 geothermal springs but I didn’t have the courage to accompany my friends to these pools in Szechenyi bath:

the Fine Art Museum was more pressing but that should wait for another post; the Hungarian parliament deserves a post all to itself as well.

If you want to stay in great affordable hotels in a great cosmopolitan European city, go to Budapest (or ask my friend, Reyhaneh, who is a champion in finding great deals!)

I leave you with this quote: “The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget” and “Clear thinking requires courage rather than intelligence” by Thomas Szasz.

p.s.  I am not writing about food because the only good meal I had worth writing home about was with my favorite Hungarian,  Professor Ungvari, at Remiz.

Abundant in nature, the color Green is Life and it represents peace, growth, renewal, health and serenity to me.

Dewing’s women are sublime in this chartreuse mist…

I like all shades of green:  lime, emerald, mint, sage, etc…Here are some fresh strawberry leaves in my backyard,

the elegant magnolia tree in my street,

the green shadow of this fuschia flower,

tired shoes on a shawl,

my green room,

two fish on this 11th century Persian ceramic,

and two naughty fish hiding under the water lilies:

and one fish on this green door,

a mean tequila shot with some limes:

a way gentler one,

I like the green man thinking,

and these beautiful women holding lights:

Shakespeare smiling behind a green fountain,

the lonely bike waiting,

my favorite tree (sycamore) leaves,

and least favorite, succulent plants.

How about these smart water plants who lure the beetles with food inside at 8 pm and eat them at 12 am?

Even coffee tastes better in a green atmosphere as Starbucks understood long ago:

A green bottle with a red soul:

I have more pictures of trees than anything else in my archives; there is a quiet majesty about a tree that has always stopped me in my daily hustle; this one is looking in the mirror:

a green Buddha,

an exquisite Delahaye ,

Green luck,

green food,

beautiful narcissus,

last but not least, green hope…

“من چه سبزم امروز و چه اندازه تنم هشیار است…”

“How green am I today
And how alert is my body”

“Que je suis verdoyant,
Et qu’il est alerte mon corps”

Sohrab Sepehri

p.s. all pictures but the last one are from my personal archives.

This is a small clip I made of these images with the beautiful “THIS” song of Brian Eno:

I always thought that a woman out of a Persian Miniature will be known as the Iranian Marianne—maybe something like this dreamy painting by Farah Ossouli:

or the ageless super model, Yasmin Parvaneh (picture on the left) or her daughter Amber Le Bon (on the right):

It could have been one of the young beautiful movie stars or myriads of miscellaneous beauty queens or even one of these two who represent the separate worlds of today’s Iranian women:

Little did we know that an unknown young woman, Neda Agha Soltan, killed ruthlessly in the Iranian election protests last month would be the face of the Persian woman to the world…

Neda was a “casualty” of the conflict; she gave a face to the faceless victims. May she not have been killed in vain…

I am sure Melvin Sokolsky doesn’t mind the great Reza being inspired by him in making the Neda masks.

Red—no matter what other name you call it by— is the color of  passion, anger, courage, sacrifice, warning, fire, sin, revolution, love, power, etc…

red is my favorite color and these are some samples of my reds; let’s start with a red heart or a scarlet letter:

red tomatoes,

red fish,

red Persian rug,

red literature,

a red fountain pen,

and a red pencil,

red lips,

a hot red car,

another hot red car,

an aspiring red rose,

and a real red rose,

lovelorn poppies,

red peppers,

high calorie red,

a small red door,

and a slightly bigger one!

the fabulous Miss Wendy:

Los Angeles’ red light district,

red beads,

wine is one of my favorite reds,

red steps in Prague,

and red steps in Buenos Aires,

a disobedient red strawberry shortcake,

and a red blog…

and this is the end of my Red post.

It’s been two years since I started this blog and I just have to make this post fabulous…I’ve been wanting to write about the new Kindle for a while but I have felt guilty towards books!

As many of you know I am a shameless bibliophile but  even though I am a rather “early adapter” of new technologies, buying a Kindle has not been a priority (you can carry a big chunk of your library—1500 books— and the neighborhood’s news stand in one Kindle).

I am tactile and love touching books and feeling the pages, the type, smelling the paper, the ink, etc…this little soldier guards my books valiantly!

This one—Herman Hess’ Narcissus and Goldmund— was one of my favorites and I have read it in three languages during the past 30 years (talking about obsession!) and I can’t imagine getting the same pleasure from reading it on Kindle…

Could I have appreciated Jean Michel Maulpoix’s poetry without his signature blue covers? No paper?

Would he have wanted to be read on a gadget? Knowing him, I would say non!

“Blue makes no noise. It is a timid color, without ulterior motives, forewarning or plan; it does not leap out at the eye like yellow or red do, but rather draws it in, taming it little by little, letting it come unhurriedly, so that it sinks in and drowns in it, unaware.”

I can read Lukacs or Gopnick on a Kindle but not the Shahnameh (even writing about it is sacrilegious). One of my favorite blog posts is the one I wrote about this passion of mine.

I audited a bookbinding course on my last trip to europe and was pleasantly surprised to see that this beautiful art is not dead.

people in the atelier were restoring old books—resewing the pages, making new covers, etc—with a lot of love, attention and reverence. These fonts were for leather book jackets:

Is Amazon.com cannibalizing its own industry? They are the makers of Kindle.

I have to admit that  even I would love to have all the newspapers I read daily, on one gadget. The gadget that carries most of my books to choose from on a trip; I guess all I am saying is that it’s very hard to read poetry on a machine—wouldn’t these beautiful poems feel/sound better on paper?

i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

“Parfois je me fais presque honte
De croire autant ce que je ne crois pas.
C’est une variété de rêve
Avec le réel au milieu.” Fernando Pessoa

Thank you all for the kind comments and support through these past two years.

Revisit my post on books here.

A book is a present we keep opening—again and again…