Monday, December 14, 2009
Poems About Separation
Boulevard Haussmann, a Saturday in December, The throat. I slalom between people and Kadis of chestnuts (j'hume that by the way). I'm rather pressed or stressed ... Feet on the ground and head in the illuminations in Paris, I'll make my signings at the Galeries Lafayette!
On the sidewalk opposite the Spring put his headdress winter, it displays an ad with my Swatch illustration, it is huge! Gulp!
ReGloups! Seeing my picture on the Peron galleries! Funny day, I swear!
The dedication went well, and despite the effervécence preparations for Christmas, my meetings were cordial and Zen. Thank you to you who came to see me.
was reassuring to see that the next day my ankles were returning again in my boots. It was just a special day, rather excited, and I wanted you to share it.
Thanks to Frank, Lisa and Galeries Lafayette.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Entocort And Ibuprofen
born in mind dada (28/03/1971). Directors: Hubert Knapp and Philippe Collin.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Creative Technologies Corp Pasta Express
It was December, the cold was intense, Picabia was wrapped in sweaters and scarves of wool, but was not wearing a hat. He hugged me hand with courtesy while English and ignored others. His presence gave a certain cachet to the opening. The gallery was filled and I was surprised there were so many people and I was hopeful. The price tables had been set to a minimum. If they were selling well, I could begin. I made a new series of paintings more unusual than any I had previously painted. Much of the conversation escape me, but I was much hand shaking and I realized that made me compliments. A strange little man, talkative, aged about fifty years, came me and took me to one of my paintings. With his little white beard, his pince-nez in the old style, his bowler hat, his coat and black umbrella, he looked like a funeral director or employee of a custodian bank. The preparations for opening me tired, the gallery was not heated, I shuddered and said, in English, I was cold. He answered in English, took my arm and led me out to the corner cafe, where he commanded the grog. There he introduced himself: Erik Satie, and continued to speak French. I told him I did not understand. He gave me a mischievous look, amused, and said that it had not matter. (Man Ray, Self Portrait , trans. Anne Guerin, Babel Actes Sud, 1998, pp. 159-160).
By scanning this catalog of the first Paris exhibition of Man Ray that I discovered that one of his works (Catalog No. 25, dated 1922) was called Isadora Duncan naked. Having reviewed most of the books and catalogs devoted to Man Ray, so I run a search. If someone could inform me about this work (is it a Painting, drawing?) and, at best, provide me a copy, it would be before Christmas time. Two impressive books have been published: a biography of Satie by Jean-Pierre Armangaud
and Correspondence with artists (1903-1918) Apollinaire,
respectively 600 and 944 pages, enough to spend the winter in the best company possible.