Culture and lifestyle
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Culture and lifestyle
Suggestions and comments on exhibitions, art galleries, theatres, operas, new restaurants and hotels throughout Europe
Curated by ArnauddeG
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Ars longa, vita brevis | The V&A pre-raphaelite exhibition

What's going on with London museums? Last week, I jumped from a sculpture exhibition at the Royal Academy to a quasi pre-raphaelite one at the V&A, involving, as far as I can judge from the outside, no etalage of a fashion designer or addict dressing room contents

One should not follow first impressions. The rather naff decor on the walls of the rooms pushes my level of optimism to a negative threshold as my umbrella and I enter the V&A exhibition on the aesthetism movement at the end of the 19th century: do we need flowers shaped by light projectors to admire Burne-Jones' pieces or dream about Keats' verses? I don't

If I need to be reminded, the long queue of people in front of the second room paintings confirms that we are in Britland. Pavonia, by Leighton, is the flagship painting of the exhibition, on the boards. In a private collection, and of a much better aesthetical level than everything that resides in Leighton House, Holland Park - except for the house itself. This is a collection of femmes fatales and peacock feathers. Women - on the walls - have red, curly hair, pale skins and evanescent gazes. All the same but incredibly obsoletely charming. Funnily, each reference to a woman here points to a different one - and all seem to have been Rossetti's, Whistler's or Morris' lovers. Quelle activité!

At this point, I am starting to question myself. The aesthetic movement set itself up to fight against the bourgeois, Victorian, middle-class home, where everything has a purpose. Art for Art's sake. But then, why produce, in a carefully established decorating firm, pieces of furniture like sideboards or candlesticks. Is there no intrinsic contradiction?

Rossetti's room is only visible through holes in a wall, that the French would call meutrières (as in a castle). Impressed by the work presented here, but certainly not by the design of the exhibition

Further down, I stop in front of a couple of Burne-Jones paintings. Quintessentially pre-raphaelite. I understand in this very moment why George Howard, one of the greatest patron of pre-raphaelites, decided to open his hall to visitors each time he received a new painting. People were seated in front of that painting, as we do in a cinema. But there were so many details to see and so much atmosphere to absorb - the audience stayed hours

Whistler's three Symphonies in white, Arrangement in Grey and Black, Nocturne: Blue and Gold, or Three Figures: Pink and Grey, are much more than aplats of colours. The next room's Japaniaiseries - apologies for the pun - do not appeal to me. Alma-Tadema's love for Pompei is remarkably expressed through his pieces of furniture. Frederick Walker's Woman in White, probably the first theatre board, seems awfully contemporary

On the other side of the corridor, the aesthetic beauty - no joke intended - does not fall, although the direction of the exhibition is even less clear. Albert Moore's three pieces are superb. Millais' Esther confirm his gift to paint splendid women. The cartouche on Whistler's exhibitions and how he would be the first installation artist is unconvincing at best, unproven in any case. At this point, still no reference to Wilde, who was however advertised as part of the exhibition

The wall of portraits reminds me of the accumulation on the walls of Annabels. The Musica tapestry by Burne-Jones is of lesser quality than the one from the Berge-Saint-Laurent collection. People around me are lost, between portraits, samples of wallpapers, photos, a garden's gate, pieces of furniture, dresses, fans, and a gigantic circle in the middle where - pretty tackily I have to say, a projector beams the decor of Whistler's Peacock room, now in the Freer Gallery in Washington. The only thing to do is to immerse oneself in a bath of beauty - and forget the shortcomings of the arrangements of the exhibition itself

The corridor leading to the exit door is quite eventless, save for a superb piece by Simeon Solomon: the Sleepers and the One Who Watcheth. Wilde is summoned here to explain the disaffection of the aesthetic movement after 1895. But the last room summarises well this superb exhibition, on a brilliant - and unfortunately quite unknown - artistic movement: colourful, precise, moving and... Aesthetic. Not to be missed, at the V&A or its subsequent setting in Paris' Musee d'Orsay
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London discoveries

This week was most interesting in terms of London discoveries. In the good as in the bad sense of the term

On the ballet front, the Sadlers Well was showing Afterlight, by Russel Maliphant. It is the story of a man lighting up a light, reads the programme, and what happens afterwards. Not sure, having seen the performance if I can concur. I usually don't like ballets, contemporary or classical, as they challenge my love of order and symmetry. Apart from the absolutely breathtaking performance of Nicolas Le Riche on the Bolero by Ravel, I have never seen a ballet performance where the third row girl bends the head at the exact same millisecond as the front row first dancer. You are getting my point

Afterlight does not depart from that rule. But manages to be quite messy with only three dancers. The storyline is not great either, and the choice of music not optimal in my view. On the left hand side of the page though, one would happily consider the second half, with more solos, and more dynamism in the dance. 8/20 overall in my opinion but I did not regret to have gone, not least for the subsequent dinner

At the end of the road, an American restaurant offers burgers and grills. The after performance rendez-vous of loads of dancers I was told. Why not? Nice atmosphere, very nice group of people (at my table), decent food - all perfect... Until I cross my legs under the table, and end up irrevocably linked to it (the table) by a mint gum, still full of its previous chewer's saliva, stuck under my iron-plated table, which had decided to move (the gum) to my custom-fit, high maintenance pair of APC brut jeans. Unclear how it has been made possible. Probably a bad convergence of poor management, unimpressive cleaning skills and an overall casual approach to customer service. The only reason I am refraining from naming the restaurant is the true regret, or despair even, I could sense from the poor waitress' voice: her tearful eyes made me regret my sense of drama I have to say. Until one of my friends pointed, very rightly, that she had a flu - and was not, as I thought, about to burst in tears...

The following day, I finally managed to get a table at the Savoy Grill. Long overdue since their refurbishment ended in November 2010, but the conjunction of my many travels and their remarkably stiff and unflexible booking policy had superseded my visceral need to taste every new restaurant in London in its first three months. I booked the table 3 weeks ago, and was given the choice between the 5.15 or the 7.30pm slots. We may be in London, but I am afraid to say that I often have not taken my mid-pm macchiato at 5.15, so it was not an option. 7.30pm then it will be. Two days before, most unpleasant phone call: just a reminder that you will have your table until 9.30pm Sir. Did not want to get into the debate of what would happen if I order a Cheval Blanc at 9.25pm but was highly unimpressed

On the spot though a completely different story. The Art Deco decor seems straight out of the Chateau de Gourdon - ou presque. Staff was impeccable, and not obsequious, yet very pro. The wine list displayed great and affordable trouvailles. The Bollinger Rose by the glass  is a plus compared to most places in London. Betroot tart and fish stew were absolutely perfect, only the chocolate fondant was a bit too sweet... I will make this one of my regular spots in London but have one advice for the MD of the Savoy: fire the people who answer the phone and move some of your great staff in the room to the phones

Thursday was Islington day. Or Almeida rather. David Eldridge, a successful, young theatre writer, had committed "The Knot of the Heart", a masterly piece on addiction and family links. Famille, je vous hais. Eldridge play is the 2-hour proof of Gide's statement. The first 10 minutes are disappointing, as the main actress, Lisa Dillon, probably needs them to fully impersonate its avatar, Lucy, a middle-class beginner TV presenter turned drugged beatnick. But after these 10 minutes, waouh! One is stuck to one's chair, and I actually caught myself really wondering how this will all end, and getting actually worried for the characters. And without disclosing too much, I want to say that one of the genial traits of the author was to show the blue sky (an original one though) after 2 hours+ of beneficial gloominess

Yes, the theme of drug and other addictions is scary. But what is miles more scarier in this play is the family links, and the vision that the middle class has of itself - a couple of great sentences on that theme are to be noted. The Knot of the Heart, or how too much love and protection can kill. Not sure if you would agree with my subtitle, but I am afraid you have no other options but rushing to the Almeida before 30 April
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Je ne regrette rien | Modern British Sculpture

I have waited until the last minute to see the Royal Academy's Modern British Sculpture exhibition closing at the end of this week. And I was right

Greated by some barracks in the front yard, I feel like Red Hood lost in an urban forest. People - tourists? - take snapshot of themselves in the yard, in front of the barracks. Hum, hum...

As usual, my umbrella gets rebuffed at the entrance. Thought I could bring a friend with my card, I try. Sorry look from the door controller. Am I really that stupid?

The first room is highly unimpressive. A replica of the Whitehall cenotaph and pictures of some statues. But people around seem content. I get told off by an RA employee as I enter room 6 - they want me to do the thing in the right order. Theft by finding is the title of room 2. Ancient and modern sculptures, the ancient ones said to come from the reserves of the British Museum, are exposed here with no particular link amongst themselves, and in no particular order. Reminds me I had decided not to go to the British Museum anymore since I attended years ago a pretty poor exhibition on Agatha Christie - what was I thinking? - 95% made of boards with some verbose literature on them

Room 3 is centered around Jacob Epstein's Adam, from Harewood House. An alabaster callipygous Adam seemingly giving himself some pleasure. The vitality of carving, the cartouche reads. A headless, conic, purple deer welcomes the visitor in the 4th room. Genghis Khan by Phillip King. Another Adam seems lost in the wrong room. Queen Victoria, by Alfred Gilbert, is unusually shown on a 2 to 1 scale whilst Leighton - the English Caillebotte - shows an athlete.

Lots of Hepworth and Moore stuff in the next couple of rooms. Reminds me of a Hepworth book press I once bought in Rome. The feminine work of Hepworth, using holes all over as a representation of feminity. The boards on the wall are missing the point - and forget to explain the relationship and mutual influence between the two sculptors...

The next rooms are the ones that correspond most to my tastes: installations more than sculptures. Hamilton's and Pasmore's an Exhibit and Caro's Early One Morning. The reference to Schwitters' barracks outside is less clear to me, mais bon. These are the rooms where art students - I suspect - have decided to camp. What for?

Room 9 is not one of sculptures either. Land art this is, but not only. People look suspicious in front of Long's pieces, catapulted into a museum. One wonders why the curators have not decided to include the ashes of Lucas and Emin's Bethnal Green shop - or one or two of Penone's pieces. Mixing land art and arte povera, why not. We are in amalgam territory anyway

No British exhibition would be complete without a seemingly shocking piece by Hirst. Let's eat outdoors today is boohed by a middle-aged couple near me. No doubt they would have preferred the French version, On pourrait presque manger (sic!) dehors, by Philippe Delerm. I too am growing bolder in my associations, encouraged by the diversity around me. In the same room, Koons is pulling a Damien Hirst, showing a basket ball in water, not formol though

The last couple of rooms finish to confirm to me that half of the pieces shown here are not modern, but contemporary. Nor are they sculptures. Really, I have more and more trouble with exhibition titles - see future Van Dongen article.

The last room is an explosion of n'importe quoi. A wall full of page three girls - for non British readers, it is the naked women on page three of the Sun. A very old and seemingly respectable man is dragging himself very close to that wall as I type. He has decided to stay hours in contemplation. The opposite wall is "a contemporary British sculpture archive". Lots of papers and invites, which I have either read or received, pinned to the wall. Did not know my writing table at home could one day be shown at the RA. A last look at Sarah Lucas (yes, I knew she would be somewhere)' portable smoking area. Quite funny as in funny ha ha. And out... So disappointing overall

I have probably missed the point of the whole exhibition, but in my defence, what was that point? The Royal Academy is neither the British Museum nor the V&A. And it should remember it. Please leave sculptures, the Aztecs and other Incas to other museums, and show us paintings. Even English paintings if you like, they are beautiful. I can already hear some saying it is not the National Gallery either. Good point. But at least make your titles consistent with the pieces you show. Or vice and versa
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My 5th most subjective list

1) Get a summary of Modern Times Forever, the longest film ever (240 hours)
2) Get more Ron Dorf, super-nicely cut gym shorts (Internet)
3) Book a week end in Florence before mid-July to see the Birth of Modernity exhibition at Palazzo Strozzi
4) Book Fin de partie (Endgame) by Beckett at Theatre de la Madeleine (Paris, from 10 May on)
5) Send back the booking form for the 2011-12 season of the Paris opera
6) Book a table at Des gars dans la cuisine, a super leak restaurant in le Marais (Paris)
7) Read Trois femmes puissantes by Marie N'Diaye - her play Les Grandes Personnes was really superb
8) Check the new Marriott StPancras, it has just reopened, as a masterpiece of Victorian architecture (London)
9) Try Le Dauphin, the new restaurant of Inaki Aizpitarte avenue Parmentier (Paris)
10) Get a new pair of slippers from Shipton and Heanage (Paris, London, online)
11) Get a refill of my stock of Trudon perfumed candles - my favourites: Abd-el-Kader, Ernesto and Carmelite (everywhere)
12) Check out the new installations presented at the MACRO since 24 March (Rome)
AnneandJaime's comment, April 3, 2011 8:00 AM
sleepers or slippers? <br/><br/>J from the spelling police <br/>Ps aside from this anally retentive comment, we are enjoying your website
ArnauddeG's comment, April 3, 2011 9:26 AM
Knew this would happen at some point. Glad to see I have careful readers ;-)
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The genesis of Musée d'Orsay | The Caillebotte exhibition

People, including a rude Italian family - surprising - are queuing, up to the Tiepolo fresco. Should really be worth it. The two sons of a rich construction entrepreneur, who dedicated their fortune to support the Impressionists, at their own detriment sometimes. Gustave, the painter, painted what his photographer brother photographed. And vice and versa

The exhibition opens with a man and a woman under an umbrella. In a rare forward-looking intuition, the woman is not only the shadow of the man, but she is only a shadow. We are 70 years before women were granted voting rights. All the rest is very 19th century, urban painting, except perhaps the deliberate liberty taken with the art of perspective. I am starting to agree with Caillebote's use of his own fortune - to the benefit of the other, talented impressionists rather than himself

On the opposite wall of the first room, Martial, the brother, manages to make Paris look like contemporary St Petersburg. Quite an achievement! Some of his pictures - or the reproductions that unfortunately are the only ones we are authorised to see - would find a natural home in a modern Taschen Paris guide. Or in my own family album, were they less bourgeois - see later

Les plaisirs familiaux, a series of photos of Gustave by Martial, looks like a series by Orozco. The same Gustave always in the same position, practicing diverse activities: starting a fire in the fireplace, playing the piano, or chess. Trivial family photos that could have inspired Benabar. I am looking for Les Epices du Souk du Caire...

It is funny to see how art enlightens reality - the photos show a middle class French 19th century family, whilst the paintings display the attributes that bourgeois mentally ascribe to aristocracy. Every thing has a purpose - Martial Caillebotte's wife is called Minoret, minoree...

Madame Renoir looks like a contadino by Millet (not Millais). The -small- husband in "Interieur, femme lisant" like a caricature by Sem. Poppies pop up in landscape paintings, with less talent than other fellow impressionists though. A summer hat has been borrowed from Van Gogh - or Cezanne. Roses in Petit Gennevilliers seem to have been trans-planted from Regent's Park. Women look like the duenna in Cyrano de Bergerac, less the petits choux. Close ups of all sorts of flowers suggest a natural history manual - but are quite charming. The Pont de l'Europe reminds me of les Planches, in Deauville. Yachting anticipates the Front Populaire and paid holidays. Welcome to bourgeois-land!

The rest of the exhibition is eventless. One hears the hos and has of visitors. Save for the heat, everything in the 8 rooms of the Jacquemart-Andre temporary exhibition breathes dolce vite à la francaise. A time when the two sons of a reasonably rich bourgeois could make a success out of showing off their day-to-day life. Happy days!
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La semaine dernière...

J'ai aimé:
- le Savennières Clos du Papillon sec 2007 et le Chateau des Reyssiers Regnié 2009 respectivement de mes amis Pontbriand et Malachard
- la présentation des oeuvres de Gourdon au Palais de Tokyo, en particulier les magnifiques bureau Tardieu et paravent brique d'Eileen Gray
- Chez la Vieille - excellente cuisine, délicieux vins et merveilleux accueil (rue de l'Arbre Sec à Paris)
- le nouveau Royal Monceau - j'aime tout, la decoration, l'atmosphère - ou les atmosphères, le personnel, les restaurants, le parti-pris artistique, et surtout la librairie-bibliothèque
- les derniers travaux photographiques de David Goldblatt
- 154 Haussman un nouveau-ish restaurant en plein coeur d'un quartier d'affaires parisien qui n'en avait pas (de restaurants)
- la Gravette de Certan, en Pomerol, second vin de Chateau Certan
- l'appli Slash pour iPhone, qui recense toutes les expositions de musées et de galeries à Paris

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- Ma part du Gâteau - une fable dégoulinante de morale populiste avec une fin en queue de poisson
- le pigeon - vrai - dans la cuisine du Tokyo Eat
- que les demi-Vittel au Flore soient reservées "aux clients qui mangent"... (sic!)

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- Coppélia, mis en scène par Patrice Bart, à Garnier
- la nouvelle victorienne ayant pour trame The Wire (
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My subjective to do list (week of 21 March 2011)

1) Book the opening of the Chelsea Flower Show in my agenda - they always send the invitations sooo late (London)
2) Get a new pair of bespoke turtleshell sunglasses at Maison Bonnet (Paris)
3) Go and check the new Veja shop in Paris (finally there is one!)
4) Place an auction at the Gourdon sale (the largest ever Art deco auction in Paris 28 March)
5) Hurrying up to book a ticket to Venice on 1 June - the Biennale!
6) Download Boardwalk Empire
7) Get ready for Art Paris - but what does that mean really?
8) Buy Cascadeur's EP, finally on iTunes
9) Book the Cendrillon gala lunch for Reves d'Enfants at the Bastille Opera in December (Paris)
10) Try the Box - the NYC inspired new London club
11) Rush to Rome for the last few weeks when Palazzo Farnese private collections are open to the public (Rome)
12) Get my first real, full sun tan of the year - at long last (Istanbul or Turkbuku)
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FT Arts Extra - The Knot of the Heart, Almeida Theatre, London

FT Arts Extra - The Knot of the Heart, Almeida Theatre, London | Culture and lifestyle |
The Financial Times brings you the latest economic and political news from the UK
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Tefaf 2011, revue de détails

Tefaf 2011, revue de détails | Culture and lifestyle |
Comme les humains, les foires ont des traits de caractère qu’il est difficile de changer. Malgré ses efforts, Maastricht...
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On the right side of the mirror - the Othoniel exhibition in Beaubourg, Paris

On the right side of the mirror - the Othoniel exhibition in Beaubourg, Paris | Culture and lifestyle |
Jean-Michel Othoniel is not only the artist responsible for the Kiosque des Noctambules in front of the not-so-fashionable-anymore Cabaret. But what else did he do? It was what I was asking myself as I entered his solo exhibition on the 4th floor of Beaubourg

Quite interestingly, he started his career with a few failures. Les insucces photographiques, he called them, but those failures were completely deliberate. He also seems to have invented the butterflies before Damien Hirst made them one of his signatures. All Othoniel's early work is very far from the various strings of glass balls he is now well know for

His titles are really exquisite. Pensez donc: l'Ame moulee au cul, Ici tout peut disparaitre, Les sculptures frites ou L'anus vert. I have always felt the greatest respect for the artists who manage to make us dream, or smile, with a title

Ingres and his Grande Baigneuse spring from the corner. La femme intestine... Vibrant hommage for the first director of the Villa Medici. One can feel we are sliding towards something a bit more down to earth. And one would be right

Post-tits, later on, or the sexual re-invention of the Mendeleiev table. Tits in addition. The whole room dedicated to tits and the likes start arousing my sexual appetite. So nice at an exhibition! For the 6-year old class stopping by, it looks like acne spots, or so they say - different people, different interpretations

Glory Holes looks like la Maxi-Tete. Sophie Favier en moins. The Spoonerism seems a Horla coming back from der Schrei - one would expect it to start hurling any time. A glass rosary hangs from the ceiling, next to Two Lovers and a collection of penises and vulves - what an association! Here, we are stepping into the well-known Othoniel territory

And the next rooms confirm this. But instead of looking beautiful but boring - which is what I expected - the journey we have just accomplished through the 80s and 90s is greatly impacting our perception of Othoniel's contemporary pieces. I feel like the White Queen having gone on the other side of the mirror. The curators translates Lagrimas (French) by Tears. How disappointing for such a delicate work. Where is Merlin? And Gargamel? I feel like a king preparing a potion, holding Bannieres 1 and 7, with the Double Necklace around me, and about to doze on the strawberry cheesecake blanket of Mon Lit, before dreaming of La Pluie d'Or, a wizardly version of Glory Holes

How can the Diary of Happiness not be all on the white (as in happy) - when a pomme d'amour serves to mark happiness?

How can one feel so cheerful after so little time around objects? Objects, or masterpieces rather. Art is made to shock observers, a friend once said to me, commenting a Bacon painting. Allow me to offer an alternative version. Art may shock people, but it is much better when it moves people and spread happiness. Everything but no feeling. Mission accomplished, Jean-Michel! Rush to Beaubourg before 23 May
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Another most subjective list (3)

1) Download the full Anna Calvi album
2) Get a refill of the latest Kiehl's sportswash gel - wonderful!
3) Confess to myself - and potentially others - once and for all that I don't like Mad Men
4) Get a serious shopping / tote bad at Porter (Tokyo or stockists)
5) Have a week day brunch at the Hyatt in Milan
6) Check out the new Castaner men espadrillas collection at the Outpost (Barcelona)
7) Get a subscription at Tate etc
8) Think about tearing my BA Gold card into pieces and never flying BA again - they f***ed it up. Again
9) Have lunch more often at Baker and Spice (London)
10) Read Teorema de Pasolini and re-read the various versions of Pasolini's murder
11) Follow @patkiernan on Twitter
12) Book Ma chambre froide at the Odeon, the new Pomerat play (Paris)
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Scooped by ArnauddeG! / Arts / Theatre & Dance - Flare Path, Theatre Royal Haymarket, London / Arts / Theatre & Dance - Flare Path, Theatre Royal Haymarket, London | Culture and lifestyle |
Nunn’s resonant Rattigan revival is an all round triumph
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NYTimes | Would the Tempest not be Shakespeare's last play?

NYTimes | Would the Tempest not be Shakespeare's last play? | Culture and lifestyle |
The Classic Stage Company takes on a production of the play “Double Falsehood,” an adaption by Lewis Theobald of “Cardenio,” a very possible collaboration by Shakespeare and John Fletcher.
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La semaine dernière

J'ai aimé
- la nouvelle pub anglaise d'Ikea: Peace, love and storage
- les visites guidées (et gratuites) de la Wallace Collection
- the Lincoln Lawyer - excellent scenario et excellent Matthew McConaughey, et le film est tellement mieux que sa bande-annonce
- l'affiche du prochain Festival de Cannes
- la conférence sur l'histoire de la peinture à l'eau donnée à la Tate Britain par la curatrice de l'exposition
- le Savoy Grill (nonobstant mon commentaire plus bas): excellente cuisine, service impeccable, délicieuse carte des vins
- The Knot of the Heart de David Eldridge au Almeida Theatre à Londres: une merveilleuse pièce sur l'addiction et les relations familiales, très flippante aussi (voir critique vendredi)

Je n'ai pas aimé
- toujours d'énormes progrès à faire à la réception de Home House (à Londres)
- que le Savoy Grill me rappelle trois jours avant ma réservation pour me dire que je serai prié de débarrasser le plancher après 2 heures - sans commentaires pour un endroit soi-disant chic
- la retransmission du procès Krombach sur Twitter - c'était mieux la semaine dernière
- me rendre compte que j'etais plus vieux que la mère de Justin Bieber

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- Potiche de François Ozon: au premier degré c'est très moyen, mais peut-être sauvé par un second voire troisième degré
- Afterlight de Russel Maliphant au Sadlers Well: toujours un plaisir d'aller au Sadlers Well mais performance assez brouillonne, surtout de la part des deux danseuses
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Le cabinet de curiosités de M. van Dongen | Paris Modern Art Museum exhibition

A socialite painter. Seems at first sight like an oxymoron, in that turning of a century. With a girlfriend named Guus - no comment - and an early patron by the name of Feneon, feneant...

The first room seems inspired by various influences - or intuitions: Stael for Le Sacre Coeur and Monet for the same, in the morning, Renoir for Le Promenoir, Duffy in La Maison à Montmartre. Even Van Dyck for the way Kees represents his father - could have been included in the portrait section of the Pinacothèque new permanent collection. The Chimere pie looks more like a chimère than a pie - a few years before Chagall, it could also have been a close up of one of the Vitebsk characters. But nothing social in all of this

The drawings, in the second room, are much more interesting. Rue chaude a Rotterdam could have illustrated a Quick and Flupke story. Transplanting the Parisian social scene of the early 20th century into a Batavian decor seems quite ballsy. Clowns, circus, music-halls - Van Dongen, the Dutch Ensor? Unless it is the other way round

In the third room, we finally enter the van Dong-esque universe. Solid blues and streichen are recognisable amongst thousands. Women are gratified of heads looking like a character from V, before they get covered by their humanly body - was Van Dongen such a sober painter as he wants us to believe? The representation of a dance, in La Mattchiche, seems to suggest his main character has la main baladeuse. Big hands, big heads, women on a piggy merry-go-round in Le Manège aux Cochons, my middle to upper aged co-visitors look very skeptical. In the meantime, the Van Dongen of the Bateau-Lavoir years seems to oscillate permanently between outburst of joy - and absinth - and steady representation of the urban life. Dr Jekyll and Mr Van Dongen?

Suddenly, I get attacked by a flock of cursy women on a pinky background. Les lutteuses, the fighteuses, painted in 1908. This is the moment that a group of Dutch women choose to ask me questions about Kees' life. Do I really look so much like an arty person? Anyway, les Lutteuses could have figured in good place in the cannibalism exhibition of la Maison rouge. A good example of suggested cannibalism

A girl with a green hair-ribbon reminds me of Mademoiselle Cahen painted by Renoir a few years before. Modjesko the transvestite sings l'Air des Bijoux. The white negro - Van Dongen's auto-proclaimed nickname - is second to none to represent modern popolane. Liverpool Light House looks more like a free house. Kahnweiler, rarely represented, also seems to be straight out of an extra-terrestrial aircraft. I am enchanted by the flurry of French, Spanish, Moroccon outcast characters represented here. But so far, nothing social in view. Just a very manicheist representation of indigens: French ones are alabaster - and Spanish ones crimson with cobalt eyes. So-called social characters tend to have green skin

But everything changes when he meets Luisa Casati. The magnificent La Vasque fleurie is like a watershed painting in his life, opening doors to a society so far unknown to Van Dongen. Montparnasse, Villa Said, Wagram, the houses get bigger and the parties more brilliant. And mixed. No doubt some society figures have sought some excitement at the Van Dongen's parties. But undoubtedly, the master of the palace has only chosen to represent the other half of his audience. The jazzy seduction of red line district people

This sublime exhibition ends with a portrait gallery. One would just notice that, 14 years after Lucie et son danseur, a mulatress artist painted with her Black dancer in 1910, the only Black figure here is an ambassador, the most elegant figure of this archetypal bourgeois gallery

Social, Van Dongen? Party animal rather. And at the time, the difference was no small thing
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La semaine dernière...

J'ai aimé:
- la charité Coolcoz de mon amie Alexandra O (
- Amaury Vassili, sympathique, naturel et qui chante bien
- les Grandes Personnes de Marie N'Diaye au théatre de la Colline - texte sublime, très bien servi par d'excellents comédiens
- le Mama Shelter, toujours aussi cool, et délicieuse cuisine
- la visite, par Jean-Michel Othoniel, de son exposition My Way au Centre Pompidou. Tellement différent quand c'est l'artiste - dans ce cas très sympathique et modeste - qui explique son travail
- le service de l'Eurostar, une fois n'est pas coutume, donc il faut le dire
- le numéro AD d'avril en français - très beau duplex à Londres
- les meubles de Nicolas Aubagnac
- les charity boxes de mon supermarché de Londres

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- le Shangri-La à Paris. Raté, alors que l'emplacement et le building sont sublimes
- l'appli iPad du Point, qui n'arrête pas de bugger
- me faire envoyer promener par le manager du Georges quand je demande des chocolats noirs
- que deux des endroits où j'ai diné cette semaine à Paris n'ait pas Infrarouge

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- le Dali, un de mes all time favourites à Paris, mais déçu par la nouvelle carte des vins - pas assez de seconds vins bons et abordables
- le Grand Café de la Poste, boulevard Malesherbes - accueil défectueux, rattrapé par la suite du service et la bonne cuisine
- est-ce qu'Annabels a vraiment besoin d'organiser des shows de lingerie et un concert live de Kool & the Gang?
SebBreto's comment, April 5, 2011 6:00 AM
As far as the wine list of the Dali, with a large smile, you can always ask the Maitre D' to bring you the list of the Le Meurice and reach out to his amazing cellar, including somptuous Vieux Chateau Certan and Palmer ;-)
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MyPad | Pavillon des Arts et du Design

Après une journée de débat sur Art Paris et mon article d'hier, je ne pouvais pas aborder le week end sans vous livrer ma vision du PAD, le Pavillon des Arts et du Design. Beaucoup plus de cohérence dans le niveau, il est vrai, même si la nature des stands est par nature hétérogène. Quelques peintres semblent avoir le don d'ubiquité: Mathieu, Wesselmann, Miro, entre autres. Les galeristes sont aimables - presque tous -, leurs aides charmantes, le champagne frais - plus que l'air ambiant. Le PAD doit clairement figurer sur votre to do list du week end. Voici mon top 10 subjectif, sans ordre particulier - ou comment dépenser moins de 500,000€:

1) Une superbe console très épurée, années 50, d'Ico Parisi chez Rossella Colombari de Milan
2) Une coiffeuse-bureau de 1962 en palissandre par le danois Vestergaard Jensen, chez Dansk Mobel Kunst - dont le stand entier mérite une attention particulière
3) Le waou factor du pavillon - plus pour son originalité que pour son intérêt esthétique à proprement parler, une installation murale en porcelaine et cables, réalisée pour la galerie new yorkaise Todd Merrill par Beth Katleman. Déjà vendu à un Australien et deux musées
4) Un merveilleux Mathieu de 1990, Rêve de flamme, à la Galerie Hurtebize, pas si éloigné d'un autre, Nuit creuse, de 1968, chez Fleury
5) Une enfilade de Hvidt and Molegaard en tech massif de 1956 chez Modernity, une solide galerie suédoise
6) Une sublime table en ébène et laiton, en trois parties de Guy de Rougemont, chez Diane de Polignac, faite exprès pour la galerie, en édition limitée de 8 - là aussi, tout le stand vaut le détour
7) Un ensemble de 4 blocs de rangement de taille et de couleur différentes, par Mathieu Lehanneur, en inox polymiroir vernis et bambou, chez Tools Gallery
8) Une paire de magnifiques lampes avec un pied en python, travail californien de 1970, à la galerie Chahane
9) De très originaux panneaux en frêne, cuivre et soie, faisant étagère - indescriptible, il faut les voir - travail récent de l'irlandais Joseph Walsh
10) Et enfin, difficile de choisir sur le sublime stand de Maria Wettergren, peut-être la chaise longue d'Erling Christoffersen, beaucoup plus confortable qu'elle n'en a l'air au premier abord, et au design impeccable
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Art in Paris - Review of Art Paris

People don't understand what the purpose of Art Paris is. They should go and check out the Grand Palais, until Sunday 3rd April. The good quality, yet uneven, selection of pieces and galleries will convince them

The Grand Palais is bustling with people. Promising. My first view, inside, is Guy Pieters' stand. One of the few non-French galleries. Deep in Jan Fabre's cockroaches sculptures and Wim Delvoye. Deep, just a way to speak though. Unfortunately, a few other galleries around present the same artists, including the Deweer gallery, just opposite. On the other side of the first corridor, Veronique Smagghe exhibits teddy bears and other kids' friends, with broken limbs, on hospital trolleys. Not such a nice beginning

Raw A however gathers some treasures, and in particular a sublime Alechinski at Lelong. Mark Borghi is surfing on the Gagosian trend and its Richard Prince Paris exhibition. He is also showing John Dogg. Never heard. Normal, he is only one of Prince's avatars, used to produce more discutable pieces such as a most disturbing and not so interesting Final curtain. The rest is superb though

Morellet is ubiquitous. Lots of square neon pieces, or confrontations between thick and thin lines. Oniris, Brolly, Lelia Mordoch, Catherine Issert, Lahumiere - all have decided to piggy back on Beaubourg. But where is Othoniel? Rue de Turenne, and rue de Beaubourg. Only

Some have taken the deliberate posture to be original. Zidoun shows Devorah Sperber's reels and provides a small crystal-balled sceptre to read their reflections. Neat although better in the gallery than in my drawing room. The French railway company sponsors a linear, colourful carpet by Joel Auxenfans (not Ozenfant...). Anna Frantz displays her Trembling Creatures at the Barbarian Art Gallery. The gallery aide draws a very smart, although not obvious, parallel with Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Reminds me more of Harry Poter's sorting hat, but one has the references one deserves

An original gallerist from Marseilles with a tacky name (VIP gallery...) shows a fallen rainbow by Laurent Perbos. Imaginative, and more beautiful at night, when the lack of light stresses the neon. Rabouan Moussion encourages everyone not to work at school: the Agony of the Good Student is a witty, creative video piece by French artist Mary Sue. Also available in photos. Talking about video pieces, Munich-based gallery Braunbehrens displays an interesting selection by M. Marck. All about unspoken constraints and natural fears, at least in my reading

Very original idea by Stephane Crasneanscki at Ilan Engel gallery. After having photographed in his own, unassuming yet splendid way, a large numbers of shores, Crasneanscki has decided to tackle woods. He links each of them to an intellectual figure. My favorite is the Heidegger one, in several pieces, showing roads to nowhere, built by the wood from the forest where the roads are built. Vanitas vanitatum, et omnia vanitas, as the Ecclesiast would put it

Joanna Vasconcelos is there too. Say, her work. Smaller than in the beautiful garden of the Royal Monceau. At Natalie Obadia. Baldessari hides recognisable faces at Dutch Art Affairs. Templon, as usual, shows an impressive selection: Pearstein, Meese, a beautiful Adami (La Bayadere), a very unusual small format by Garouste (my favourite...), an interesting piece by Oda Jaune. I could go on forever

Some have made what I believe are more discutable choices. A solo show of Ben at Lara Vincy. Some beautiful, yet misplaced Bacon drawings at Berlin Werkstattgallery. Not for this crowd. One or two gallery owners show their prices...

Crawling across what is for now still empty (it is only 3.30pm, in 5 hours, the Grand Palais will look like Djama El Fnaa square at 10pm on a spring night), I am making interesting discoveries. Roman Lipski, at Lodz-based Atlas Sztuki, reminds me I have not visited Poland for a while. Ralph Fleck, at Albert Baumgarten - and they are also very nice! At Galerie Taiss, a doppelgänger of Inspector Gadget is looking for the moon on Tishkov and Parchikov photos. Olivier Waltman has an interesting, iron-plated stand. Adler offers a live performance around a graffiti. Semiose shows dreamlike painting by Hippolyte Hentgen. A German gentleman, I ask naively. No, a two woman duet... More than meets the eye, as Yodelice would sing

Prune Nourry shows men (not only, also udders) on the walls of Polka's stand. Reciprocity, JR was showing women on buildings. Frederic Beigbeder is here too, with a massive erection hidden by one of his books. Only a portrait, don't worry. The same gallery - Orel - offers a nice, small, piece by Molodkin, the rating of which has spiked since he entered a certain famous and beautiful private collection...

All in all a very different selection from FIAC - and a very different atmosphere from yesterday's Pavillon des Arts et du Design. A different crowd too, clearly. Only one gallery is present at both: the superb Mayoral from Barcelona. Impressive selection of major and up and coming pieces. Probably one of the best stands, although a bit hidden in the back. Merite le voyage, as the Michelin would put it

Outside, there is a huge queue. People are waiting for the 6pm opening. We are leaving, happy. This is how I like arts in general, and contemporary (mostly) art in particular: unassuming, promising, with a fair potential for quality discoveries - and not too many people around it
superix's comment, April 7, 2011 5:42 PM
Jean Clair, « L’Hiver de la culture »
Par Yves Stalloni, 2 avril 2011
Le dernier livre de Jean Clair, comme l’indique son titre, est écrit par gros temps, porté par des dépres sions annonciatrices de tem pêtes, parcouru de gelées tenaces et d’un blizzard glacial. Cet hiver métaphorique qui saisit la culture n’augure rien de bon. Les « froides ténèbres » dans lesquelles nous entrons sont marques de dé clin, notamment dans le domaine de l’art.

Quels sont les signes de cette alerte hiémale ? L’ouvrage en pro pose plu­sieurs dont l’un sur le quel l’auteur s’est déjà largement ex primé, les musées. Jean Clair, conservateur des Musées de France, responsable successif de quelques-uns des plus importants mu sées de notre pays, est convaincu que ces lieux sont devenus des refuges de l’imposture. Par leur laideur architec­turale d’abord : « Les musées ne ressemblent plus à rien […], mélange de modernité fade et d’emprunts hasardeux », ils doivent plus au kitsch de Las Végas qu’à l’ordonnancement élégant d’un palais clas sique. Par une préten­due démocratisation qui cache un paresseux confor misme : « Je reste per­plexe devant ces foules innombrables patien tant aux entrées des musées, attendant des heures le privilège no table de franchir le seuil de ces garde-meubles précieux. » Par une fâcheuse confusion, qui autorise à baptiser « musées » des édifices où sont conservés divers objets n’ayant qu’un rap­port lointain avec l’art. Et encore le musée perçu comme distra tion pour oi­sifs soli taire : « Plus les gens sont seuls, plus ils vont au musée, comme au­tre fois les vieilles gens, devenus veufs, continuaient de se rendre à l’église.»

Le réquisitoire pourrait s’arrêter là, mais d’autres froidures sé vissent. Par exemple la transformation du « déchet » en œuvre d’art au nom d’une esthé­tique qu’on appellera « décalée ». L’expression de ce dévoiement est illus­trée par des pseudo-artistes actuels du style de Jeff Koons, véritable trader de l’art reconverti dans l’« ins tal lation », respectueusement invité il y a peu au Centre Pompidou et au château de Versailles. Dans un esprit voisin, Clair rappelle les provocations de l’italien Piero Manzoni dans les années cin­quante proposant des boîtes de merda d’a tista, ou une récente exposition de New York baptisée Abject Art où s’exhibaient, le sexe, le sang et diverses sécrétions.

Autre assaut de l’hiver artistique : le mélange du faux et du vrai, dans un chapitre joliment intitulé « La relique et la réplique ». Une œuvre, sortie de son contexte historique et cult rel, subit une trans formation implicite qui en dénature le sens, altère son authenticité et lui fait perdre beau coup de son aura. À l’inverse, la réplique, servie par les moyens techniques actuels, est désormais suffisamment par faite pour qu’elle se substitue sans dommage à l’original. D’où la ques tion malicieuse : « Pour quoi pas une galerie des Of­fices faite de reproductions, un Uffiziland à quelques kilomètres de Flo­rence ? »

Avec un optimisme raisonnable, on pourrait espérer que l’hiver lais sera place bien tôt à un prometteur printemps. Jean Clair n’y croit guère : la mau­vaise saison, à ses yeux, semble durablement instal lée, comme le laisse en­tendre ce jugement sans illusion : « “L’art contemporain”, c’est le récit d’un naufrage et d’une disparition. » C’est un spécialiste respecté qui l’écrit.

Yves Stal loni

• Jean Clair, « L’Hi ver de la culture », « Café Voltaire », Flammarion, 2011, 143 p.

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Une session à la maison

Camelia Jordana, Ben l'Oncle Soul, Liliwood and the Prick, ASA, Zaz. Qu'est-ce que tous ces artistes ont en commun? Avoir été nominés (sic!) aux Victoires de la Musique 2011? Bien sûr. Mais aussi avoir été les prestigieux invités d'un cercle presque secret d'amoureux de la musique et de la fête, qui se réunissent tous les mois à Paris, depuis un an, pour découvrir en avant-première les victoires de demain. Et au vu du palmarès 2010, la sélection était parfaite!

Ce soir, j'ai enfin réussi à décrocher l'heureux sésame. Presque un air de franc-maconnerie chic pour qui veut être intronisé chevalier de la musique. Le mot de passe est "bonjour", m'appelle ma bienfaitrice-initiatrice. Pas très original. Sûrement pour tromper l'ennemi. A peine entré sur le site web, j'ai le plaisir de cliquer sur l'espace privé réservé aux initiés. Commoners, passez votre chemin. Le but ici est d'être discret. Je m'inscris. Puis plus rien

Jusqu'à 20 heures avant le jour J. Un email me parvient avec les détails. Suprême raffinement, afin de s'assurer que les compagnons ne sont pas en retard - le concert commence à 8.30pm et doit être terminé à 10pm, règles de copropriétaires obligent, un voiturier est à disposition. On aurait presque bâillonné le heurtoir pour qu'il ne trouble pas les beaux discours, pardon les belles notes

H-10 minutes. Fébrilement, ma cavalière dans la voiture, je passe devant l'Adresse. Une sublime et gigantesque maison, dans un coin caché de l'ouest parisien. Mon ticket de voiturier et celui du vestiaire en main, je penètre dans l'antre. Ca grouille déjà. Il est 7.30pm et l'on est à l'heure

A l'intérieur, tout le monde ressemble à quelqu'un de connu. Un patron de presse, un de pub, un grand architecte, un écrivain célèbre, quelques héritiers, un parlementaire. A moins que ce ne soient les vrais. On ne saura rien car on est dans le seul endroit de Paris où il n'est pas incongru de n'avoir qu'un prénom... Discrétion et raffinement, on vous dit

On sert une marque de champagne à l'étiquette de la même couleur qu'une maison du faubourg Saint-Honoré, un ou deux traiteurs complètent le lot. Depuis peu, il y a même des plats chauds pendant l'entracte me murmure-t-on. Les filles sont jolies, en Louboutin et pantalons - dans l'understatement ambiant, on s'asseoit par terre pour écouter le concert. Un type passe, cheveux longs, tee shirts et baskets. Le musicien bien sûr!

Silence. Le quatuor à la tête de cette société discrète prend la parole. Présentation des artistes. Remerciements des hôtes. Réjouissances et plaisanteries. Ca commence. Je me cale, entre le sac de ma voisine et un voisin un peu envahissant. Mon regard slalome entre les photographes. Un grand type brun qui faisait de la magie chante avec une fille petite en tutu. Ils ont l'air sympathique. Chantent en anglais. Elle a un nom anglais et une maison aux US. Il a un nom francais, un père musicien et une mère anglaise. Ont un meilleur accent que la plupart des convives. Font une blague entre deux chansons. Sympathiques on vous dit. Mon voisin envahissant veut avoir l'air cool. Il tape des mains et fait du bruit. Dommage, mais vite oublié pour se plonger dans le spectacle, de grande qualité, qui nous est offert. Dans l'assistance, on est mal assis. Qu'importe. Messieurs, vous mettrez des mi-bas la prochaine fois, cela nous évitera de voir vos mollets. Mais comme chez le psy, ou la masseuse, on est concentrés. On ne fait rien d'autre qu'écouter les victoires de la musique 2011. Faire autrement serait inconvenant

C'est déjà fini. Quel dommage. Je demande quand aura lieu la prochaine session? Secret, me dit-on. C'est sans compter sans mon agenda de ministre. J'arrive enfin à savoir. Le 27 avril. Merde! Comment vais-je faire avec le Mariage (the Wedding...)? Mais il y a des invitations qu'on ne refuse pas. Je ferai fi de l'Angleterre, d'Elton John et de Lady Gaga, et serai, le 27 avril, à la prochaine session à la maison *

* dans le but de respecter la discrétion de mise, la date a bien sûr été changée...
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An ill-fated attempt to update a 19th-century classic
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Patrick Cariou wins copyright case against Richard Prince and Gagosian | The Art Newspaper

Patrick Cariou wins copyright case against Richard Prince and Gagosian | The Art Newspaper | Culture and lifestyle |
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La semaine dernière

J'ai aimé:
- le Palais de la Musique de Barcelone
- Benvenuti al Sud, la version italienne des ch'tis
- les réinstallations lumino-cinétiques de Francois Morellet à Beaubourg
- le Cafe Charlot et ses adorables serveuses
- la visite de mon ami F
- le self de Guy Martin au Bon Marché
- le chocolat sans sucre de Marcolini (rue de Seine ou Bon Marché à Paris, partout en Belgique, Selfridges à Londres)
- l'accrochage de la Waddington gallery à Londres

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- que partout où j'étais le temps était affreux, alors qu'il était superbe aux mêmes endroits le reste de la semaine, et dans le reste de l'Europe le même jour
- le Jour (salades) de Neuilly - pas aimable et rognant sur les portions
- l'accueil mitigé - et c'est nouveau - à la Société - mais on leur laisse une seconde chance
- avoir manqué la TEFAF, mais on ne peut pas tout faire

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- Mitch Epstein, vainqueur du Prix Pictet
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It wouldn't happen to Banksy: 'The Morning After New York' to be demolished – Telegraph Blogs

It wouldn't happen to Banksy: 'The Morning After New York' to be demolished – Telegraph Blogs | Culture and lifestyle |
[caption id="attachment_100080347" align="alignnone" width="460" caption="'The Morning After New York' by Nick Walker"][/caption] Nick Walker, the renowned British graffiti artist, painted “The Morning After New York” one night in October 2008 on the side of a building in the East Village.
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Les planches de Paris brûlent-elles? Revue de théâtre parisienne

La semaine dernière, je suis rentré du théâtre avec des courbatures. J'étais allé voir Niels Arestrup et André Dussolier dans Diplomatie à la Madeleine et, une fois n'est pas coutume, j'ai beaucoup applaudi

Personne n'est dupe, l'histoire de la conversation entre le consul de Suède Raoul Nordling et le gouverneur de Paris Choltitz n'est pas historique. C'est un raccourci, visant à célébrer, entre autres, l'aide apportée par Nordling à la diplomatie de son pays d'adoption. Le texte non plus ne sera pas historique. Deux aspects du texte m'ont gêné. Tout d'abord, les saillies de Nordling - croit-on vraiment que le consul de Suède ait eu l'envie et le loisir de ces réparties qui ont fait mouche dans la salle? Passe encore, c'est une fiction. Ce qui m'ennuie le plus est l'absence de clarté autour du tipping point, c'est-à-dire du moment où de fort, Choltitz devient faible, et les rapports de force s'inversent. Psychologiquement, il eût été intéressant de montrer plus clairement le point d'orgue de cette conversation romancée

Il n'en reste pas moins que les acteurs sont époustouflants. Arestrup d'abord, dont on ne sait pas s'il tousse pour le rôle ou parce qu'il tousse vraiment - il ne pourra égaler en cela tous les tousseurs de la salle, que Philippe Bouvard vilipendait très spirituellement il y a peu dans sa chronique du FigMag. Ni si son accent est le sien - je rappelle qu'il est né à Paris - ou un accent esperantesque sensé représenter l'accent allemand. Dussolier aussi, toujours pareil à lui-même, plus scandinave qu'Arestrup. Pince sans rire, spirituel et excellent comédien. D'où mes courbatures

Ce ne sont pas les seuls à valoir le coup en ce moment sur les planches parisiennes. J'espère que vous n'avez pas raté La Nuit juste avant les forêts à l'Atelier, avec l'extraordinaire Romain Duris qui servait un texte exceptionnel de Koltès. Une performance d'acteur incroyable, un texte qui s'imprime auprès de chacun pour trouver une fin qui lui est propre. On en redemande

Perrin et sa troupe sont excellents dans le Nombril à la Comédie des Champs-Elysées. Ils servent le dernier texte d'Anouilh qui rend bien les névroses de l'auteur, de son temps et du nôtre. Et Perrin est excellent en ordonnateur de troupe

Enfin, la Vérité de Florian Zeller à la Gaîté. Ce n'est pas du théâtre expérimental ou intellectuel, mais très divertissant, un texte spirituel, et des acteurs, tous les quatre, très efficaces

Ma seule question maintenant: qu'est ce que je vais bien pouvoir aller voir après? Pris le magazine Rappels à la sortie du théâtre, la réponse n'est pas évidente. Peut-être la pièce de Pommerat à l'Odéon. Suite au prochain numéro
AnneandJaime's comment, March 15, 2011 3:52 PM
quelle plume! Tes mots font mouche et le Paris de ton blog arriverait presque à me manquer. Non. Reviens à Genève.
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La semaine dernière...

J'ai aimé:
- Kiss me forever, de Julien Doré
- la nouvelle pub pour le cancer du colon, très spirituelle (si vous ne l'avez pas vue, vous ne pouvez pas comprendre)
- le délicieux Rose Bakery Café de la Maison Rouge
- le nouvel aéroport de Barcelone
- mon nouveau casque AKG450 qui m'isole complètement du reste du monde
- la nouveauté et l'angle des oeuvres de Marcelo Cidade et Andre Komatsu présentés chez Max Wigram à Londres
- Snob Society de Francis Dorléans
- les cafés dans la cuisine avec mon amie A
- mon nouveau shopping bag Want Les essentiels de la vie, acheté chez Outpost a Barcelone
- la pasta, le gigot à l'anchois et l'adorable accueil de Madame C

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- l'augmentation des tarifs et de seuils de miles de l'Eurostar, simultanée (ou presque) avec l'apauvrissement (en saveurs, pas en graisses) des plateaux repas
- la formule belge du FigMag - le ton des premières pages ressemble un peu trop à Voici
- la nouvelle programmation de Virgin Radio en France
- les manquements répétés de British Airways - mais est-ce vraiment une surprise?
- découvrir qu'EDF Energy avait débité 2000 pounds en trop de mon compte, et ne faisait rien pour me les rendre
- les serveurs du bar du Mandarin (nouveau-ish) à Barcelone: trop lents et trop de chichis
- que Tickets, le nouveau tapas bar de Ferra Adrian à Barcelone, soit fermé le lundi, et plein jusqu'à l'été

Pire idée de la semaine:
- aller acheter mes recharges Kiehls chez Colette, en pleine fashion week, au moment où Katie Perry avait la même idée
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