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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Rain in Spain, not only in the plains - Barcelona MACBA

It is Apocalypse today in Barcelona. Pissing, pouring, pelting, can't find a better description. Professor Higgings would have been able to make poor Eliza suffer even more. I postpone shopping until later, off to the MACBA. I have never been fond of regional arts and have always carefully avoided museums such as the Russian one in St Petersburg or the musee Boudin in Honfleur ;-) But the MACBA is much more than that. Apparently, I am not the only one with a museum idea today.

1st floor, permanent collection. But, where is the entrance, hermano? I decide to start by what I believe is the end. No idea why, though

Miralda draws an Yvette on the phone with French quotes - Tante Yvette? Hum, it does not look like it. Next to it, a huge wall full of colourful and apparently unrelated collages reminds me of the Rosenblum collection. Except it looks more tidy. Eulalia Grau tries to pair up chicks and cops. Not bad I thought, until I realised next to this, there was a bride being swallowed by a vacuum cleaner. Gross

The crowd is funny, but not funny ha ha. Art students, as usual, but also flocks of tourists who would never have come, had it not rained. A nice scent of wet wool all over

A room full of Bofill stuff. Thought it was only a furniture brand. Apparently, he also makes Larry Clark-esque films, and Mies van der Rohe-like pavillions maps. That's ok, Ludwig pavillion is not far, we are in Barcelona. A Rauschenberg piece surprises me. Not his best

People look skeptical in front of an exhibition window full of leaflets and prospectuses. Not to be read entirely though, as one of my co-visitors apparently starts doing

Interesting works follow by Antoni Llena, or Brazilian-born Öyvind Fahlström. Photographs and leaflets again. A bit too many

A group of Americans are playing a funny (as in ha ha) game: one of them hides the title of some pieces and makes the other guess it. One Rothko-Soulages-Tapies like piece (with less talent though) is called Composition. They think it is awfully funny. Have they heard of Kandinsky?

Nothing more to report as I enter the last (first) room, which contains most big names from the collection (Fontana, Tapies, Dubuffet) but not necessarily their best pieces. Good idea to have started with the end. May not have had the patience of waiting until the last room
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Lele's comment, March 13, 2011 3:13 PM
Have not been at the MACBA for a while and after reading your article I suddenly feel the urge to go...but I guess that, being an adopted Barcelonian, I will make sure not to go on a rainy day. xxx
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Rouge sang - The new exhibition at La Maison Rouge, Paris

Have you ever walked on a carpet made up of salami, mortadella and chorizo? For the half-Italian, Spanish lover that I am, it was hard not to throw myself on the floor and eat it. I guess my love of cleanliness withheld me

This is with this original piece by Wim Delvoye that Antoine de Galbert decided to open his latest exhibition. Tous cannibales, Claude Levi-Strauss wrote. After Kafka (and the excellent previous exhibition, les recherches d'un chien), the most famous anthropologist is providing inspiration to La Maison Rouge

The start is quite un-Maison Rouge like. Redon, Doré, a few other uncontemporary pieces. After the corridor, a huge board by Oda Jaune welcomes the visitor, who finds himself in more usual territories. Or not

"On ne m'otera pas de l'idée qu'il existe peut-être une relation entre le corps du Kamikaze et celui de l'obèse". This quotation by Gilles Barbier, in a corner of a large contemporary painting in the first room, is my favourite. Pushes you to a diet, even if you are not too motivated, does it not? The room is full of representations of the body and its pieces in various shapes

Further on, Jana Sterback is pulling a Lady Gaga. A meat dress at the time of the meat markets. Two elegant men pass by, hardly looking at la robe de viande. "C'est comme Lady Gaga". Brava Germanotta! To me, the content/recipient inversion sounds like Orozco's lift. I always need to feel in intimate territories

Later on, exposed, strictly speaking, to Adriana Varejao's azulejos, I surprise myself to turn around and check whether really, all that mess could have escaped from the frame. Good shot Adriana, perfect illusion! Birsky has painted a Caravaggio/Goya portrait of an anthropophagist, the guide reads. Looks more like Goldorak eating Martians to me but why not?

Further down, the Messe pour un corps video by Michel Journiac deeply shocks my Catholic roots. And it is Ashes Wednesday. No comment, even if some think art should be shocking, this I believe is far too much

Everything else is normal. Bettina Rheims has one boob. Patty Chang eats one of hers on a video - at this point, my friend is just throwing up. Philippe Mayaux presents wedding cakes with lips, tongues and fingers. Un "Savoureux de toi" it is called. Darling, Happy Valentine! Red Hood is having lunch with the wolf. And spaghetti man (pardon, Theo Mercier's le Solitaire) still has not been eaten since the Frieze. Sad destiny

The other exhibitions are also worth seeing. A neo-Boltanski-esque Chiharu Shiota accumulates suitcases and dresses in installations supposed to figure complexity, travel and roots. Not bad, but I always feel suspicious when I need less than 2 seconds to draw an obvious parallel between two artists of the same era

Suddenly, as I am trying to understand the beauty of the unachieved piece in the Patio (still trying btw), I spot a youngish French visitor trying to flirt with two Chinese students. In an approximate franglais, he is asking his way (in a one room gallery, hum, suspicious). Cannibalism, you said... It seems to have given some some ideas
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La légende de Marc Du Plantier

La légende de Marc Du Plantier | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
Entre Jean-Michel Frank et Jean Royère, il existe un grand décorateur méconnu : Marc du Plantier (1901-1975) à...
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Lele's comment, March 24, 2011 6:03 AM
Have done a bit of research on Marc du Plantier as I did not know him before I read the article and found a real treasure. Beautiful and balanced pieces. Bursting elegance, simple lines and rich materials on quite timeless pieces.
Merci pour le decouverte!
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L’invention du paysage au Grand Palais

L’invention du paysage au Grand Palais | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
Depuis son intrusion dans la miniature médiévale, la représentation de la nature est devenue une préoccupation majeure...
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Theatreland is back

After a remarkably disappointing autumn for what London theatre is concerned (with the exception of Penelope Keith, amazing in Sheridan's Rivals at the Royal Haymarket), I have to underline with the strongest enthusiasm possible two incredibly interesting - and very different - plays currently on in London.

First, the Children's Hour. Or how calumny can destroy a life. Or several for that matter. Maybe Lillian Hellman, the American author, of communist fame, got inspiration from her life-long defamation suit with Mary McCarthy. Anyway, the plot is brilliant: two (girl) friends have just set up a girls' boarding school somewhere in the country. They don't joke with discipline. To the point that one of the girls, who thinks she is their scapegoat, invents a lie about the two friends fancying each other. Which at the time (the 30s for the play, however based on a true incident from the early nineteenth century) is a serious crime. A few trials and years later, the truth resurfaces, but too late. The play is brilliant - because it is scary: in substance, the truth does not matter. "Reputation, reputation, reputation, oh I lost my reputation", Cassio says (Othello, Act II). The immortal part of oneself.  This is the confirmation a couple of centuries later
Keira Knightley and Elizabeth Moss (the gorgeous oie blanche from Mad Men) are stunning. Run to the Comedy Theatre - there are still seats available (at least before 7 May)

The second admirable play is Frankenstein. Very different. Quite surprising I thought in the first place, to produce Frankenstein as a play - this is to my knowledge the first time it is being done -, but if one theatre in London would be able to pull it out, it would be - and it is - the National. Going down to our seats, we notice a rope hanging in the middle of the aisle, and a few red marks on the floor. What for? Little did we know that the audience, not only the stage, would be the centre of the performance
Dim lights, a large buffalo-skin eggshell alone in the middle of the stage. Suddenly, a heartbreaking hurling fends off the silence. The creature was born. During the next 15 minutes, it - or he - awakes to a life, its life. Tries to sit, to stand, is happy when it manages to walk, unhappy when it does not manage to talk. All of this with borborygmi and onomatopoeia - not a single word. The creature does not speak. The next 105 minutes fly. Have not looked at my watch a single time, nor did my neighbours.
Some would tell you the script is bad - not enough words?, some would say a few pieces are too long. I probably agree with all of this. But one thing will stay with you after the show: the incredible, phenomenal performance of the actors. The ones playing the creature and Frankenstein (Benedikt Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller) alternate - a representation of the duality of human soul? No, we were told in a later discussion with the cast. Not either a practical recognition that the creature part appeals to much more than being a good actor - one has to be a singer, a dancer, a performer, and so many other things. Only the continuation of an old theatre tradition to alternate main parts.
Two other special mentions. One for Naomie Harris, the incredibly beautiful and talented Elizabeth, Frankenstein's fiancée, whom you may have seen - quickly - in Pirates of the Caribbean. And another one for Danny Boyle, the director, most recently of Slumdog Millionaire's fame.

Chapeau bas to the cast and crew of these two fantastic plays! Let's hope the spring season of London's Theatreland will be up to these autumn's masterpieces
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First Photos of Elusive Graffiti Artist Banksy?

First Photos of Elusive Graffiti Artist Banksy? | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
First Photos of Elusive Graffiti Artist Banksy? on Opposing Views. Issues, Experts, Answers.
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Cette semaine...

J'ai aimé:
- l'Alpette
- les nouveaux chandails ajustés Bompard
- le champagne Telmont 2000
- le vieux tube d'amour et d'amitié (1985) de Céline Dion
- le Torrent et son adorable staff / propriétaire
- faire des émules bloggeurs (bravo à Ambroisine et Ladislas)
- Adele
- le dîner, délicieux, léger et plein d'ambiance, de la galerie EP

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- la vendeuse de la boutique Colmar de Megève
- les mots affreux sur le wall de mon amie Caroline (vas-y Caro)
- les Jumeaux
- le site de réservation de Roland-Garros
- le cerbère des Cinq Rues, mi-pokemon, mi-bidibul
- les nouveaux rond-points à Neuilly
- recevoir hier une invitation pour une Christmas party à Londres en décembre 2008
- France Telecom, qui ne m'a toujours pas rétabli ma ligne après une erreur de 8 mois

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- le Vertigo
- les bougies Astier de Villatte
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Laetitia's comment, February 28, 2011 4:15 PM
Merci pour les enfants ils n en reviennent pas d' être cites ils ont l impression d' être famous! see you domani lol laetitia
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Gagosian Snags Global Representation Of Sculptor John Chamberlain

Gagosian Snags Global Representation Of Sculptor John Chamberlain | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
The Gagosian Gallery is a household name in its own right with mega-galleries in New York, LA, London, Hong Kong, Geneva, Paris, and Rome, to name a few. Larry Gagosian's roster of represented artists reads like a major museum exhibit with names ranging from Ed Ruscha to Alberto Giacometti and from Damien Hirst to Richard Serra.
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Tracey Emin, the visionary, emerges as Margate's answer to William Blake | Art and design | The Guardian

Tracey Emin, the visionary, emerges as Margate's answer to William Blake | Art and design | The Guardian | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
The artist's new exhibition, a collaboration with the late Louise Bourgeois, is a convincing display of her talent
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Les héritiers de Claude Berri annulent leur dation au Centre Pompidou, préférant vendre au Qatar - Site Artclair - 23 février 2011

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A shoebox worth living in - the Tate Orozco exhibition

To those who need an excuse to despise contemporary art, Gabriel Orozco may provide one. Think about it: the guy spits his toothpaste on a piece of paper - and it's art. He takes a photo of his moped - and it's art. He suspends 3 rolls of loo paper with a motor - and it's art. And most disturbingly, he opens a white shoe box in a room - and it's art

To the careful observer though, Orozco's art conveys many layers of messages. First of all, what would we think nowadays of his love for trivial materials: loo paper, an abandoned lift, clay, pencils, hair and fabrics from drying machines. Not very Murakamesque

But Orozco is much more than that. How to understand better the curse of the art collector, or any other type thereof for that matter, than watching his zillions of yellow Schwalbe photos. While living in Berlin, Orozco owned a yellow moped. He decided to crawl the city, in search for similarly yellow ones and to take a picture, each time he discovered one, of the two next to one another. But when to end? There will always be a next moped. Is this not the exact same question that most collectors are asking themselves, to the point where they feel compelled to part with the construction of their life

I could go forever. The DS cut in half? A good example of an object, the use of which has been radically transformed - there is no motor - but which looks almost identical yet purposeless. The picture of his breath? How to capture the uncapturable. The wooden island photographed with a skyscraper background? Some kind of intellectual matriochka construction. His own French billiards? Oval with a pendulum - not sure it will improve my performance

If you have not seen the Beaubourg exhibition 6 months ago, rush to the Tate Modern (until 25 April), it is even more complete, and read the excellent articles in Tate etc, the Tate magazine. As he would put it in one of his obituaries (also very much worth seeing), Orozco, a multi-layered, multi-talented and inspirational contemporary artist. But I am sure he would find a better one for himself
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Another most subjective list

Encouraged by some dear friends after the first list, I have decided not to wait too much to give you my second one:

1) Register as a friend of La Maison Rouge (Paris) and la Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo (Torino)
2) Respond to the Tods / Whitechapel party on 24 March (London)
3) Get the updates of the Luxe City Guides (not the Vuitton ones, the ones from HK)
4) Finally create a Twitter account (and follow @ArnauddeG)
5) Read the smallprint of my flat insurance contract BEFORE I got burglared next
6) Subscribe to zipcar or a similar service (everywhere)
7) Go and get more Nespresso recycling bags
8) Learn how to cook home-made, fresh soups
9) Visit (again) the fantastic exhibition of Rosenblum Collection and Friends before they change it (Paris)
10) Go shopping at Alfie's market where you may come across Michael Caine or Jude Law, but most likely brilliant mid-century pieces of furniture (London)
11) Forget once and for all the delicious 4 am kebbab on my way back from Annabels (London)
12) Get chic stationary cards at Greenwich Press (New York) or Il Papiro (Florence and Rome)
13) Try to spot the Sartorialist's photographers on the street to - finally - feature on this superb website
14) In addition to Easter, remember booking the Royal Wedding week end away (I am told a lot of Straßenfeste are getting prepared in London)
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La semaine dernière,

J'ai aimé:
- les excellentes Natalia Verbeke et Carmen Maura dans les femmes du 6e étage (et Lucchini, bien sûr)
- provoquer, dans un grand restaurant parisien, une engueulade entre une intrigante provinciale et son amant éthylé, sans parler ni à l'un ni à l'autre
- le nouveau portefeuille de voyage Vuitton, qui permet de mettre TOUTES ses cartes de frequent flyer
- la nouvelle (octobre 2010) galerie Hauser & Wirth sur Savile Row
- le nouveau Cafe Luc de Marylebone
- le très poli et serviable maître d'hôtel de Cecconi's
- la standing ovation des petites mains chez Dior
- l'excellent café de l'Electric
- le délicieux dîner et la très festive housewarming party de M&S
- traverser Londres trois fois d'ouest en est, à pied, sous le (quasi) soleil
- le toujours sublime bar du Connaught

Je n'ai pas aimé:
- qu'il n'y ait plus de salade de fruits chez Raoul
- qu'il n'y ait pas plus de tableaux pré-raphaélites à Leighton House
- que la 3ème saison du Mentaliste ne soit toujours pas disponible sur itunes
- ne toujours pas savoir parler russe
- les multiples annulations des manifestations culturelles mexicaines en France cette année

Je n'ai pas tranché sur:
- faut-il encore aller chez Whole Foods?
- The Adjustment Bureau: passable pour un dimanche soir, mais sans doute pas un autre soir
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A most subjective list

Georges Perec once wrote: "There is somethig at once uplifting and terrifying about the idea that nothing in the world is so unique that it can't be entered on a list"
I will every now and then try to give you my own, opinionated, very subjective list of to dos, in no particular order, and no particular common criteria, apart from my mood

1) Book the play in which Daniel Radcliffe will perform in July (London)
2) Plan a visit to the Gourdon ArtDeco exhibition by Christies (end of March, Paris)
3) Organise a visit to the new Impressionist exhibition at Palazzo Reale (Milan)
4) Think about organising your Easter week end - Marrakesh, Istanbul, Tel Aviv, personally I would not fly for more than 5 hours
5) Buy a whole-purpose grinder to grind down those golden linenseeds you have been eating in no avail for months (everywhere)
6) Pay a visit to Trunk, the new(ish) gentlemen clothes shop on Chiltern Street (London)
7) Get the March issue of Monocle (everywhere, almost)
8) Eat your last vacherin of the year (the season is over...)
9) Have dinner at L'Arpege - truffle season! - in Paris and a drink at the Connaught in London, not necessarily on the same day though
10) Contribute to the current worldwide debates: who will replace Galliano, who is Bansky and will iPad2 really be a revolution?
11) Avoid flying American Airlines - or any other American airline - and Air France (to and from anywhere)
12) Read (hopefully again) Cyrano de Bergerac

Have a good week end...
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Gillian Holding's curator insight, November 16, 2013 10:50 AM

Imagination caught by this, and reminded again of the impossibility of truly capturing my to do list. When I read Perec's astoundingly precise and detailed observances, I'm in awe of his capacity to concentrate and observe, then I think; yes, but what did he miss? 

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Jan Gossaert and Doctor Mabuse - the London National Gallery exhibition

I think I don't like Renaissance paintings
But each time I am confronted to some, I cannot help but being enthusiastic. And possibly emphatic in my enthusiasm. This was the status of my thoughts as I entered the Gossaert exhibition at the National Gallery

After an Albertina-owned, "pen and ink, with white heightening on dark blue paper" drawings representing the holy Family with Saint Catherine and another female saint (1510-15) (which contradicted also my preconceived idea that I did not like drawings), I find myself in front of the Adoration of the Kings. It looks like a Mexican open-air market, or the Antique version of a Galliano show. Standing in front of the piece, I summon painters to my rescue:
- Hubert Robert, and its open-air architectures
- Canaletto, and its plunging perspectives
- Titian, and its uncomparable blues
- Fragonard, and its hidden characters with a double-entendre
What a beauty! I could have stayed there for ages

As I continued to dive into this remarkable exhibition, I grew more and more disappointed at the signs near the paintings - why is it that curators always have to describe what is shown with unmeasurable talent in the pieces nearby? As though it was not enough to have to overhear visitors' comments, which one day I will gather in a memory book, although they are arguably more rare - and less stupid - in England than anywhere else

In the nudes category, which until now I thought were only reserved to Cranach, quite a few surprises. Duerer's brilliant four witches. A Gossaert's Venus with what really looks like a boob job. A sleeping Paris looking like a putto.

In the Gallery's largest room, the portraits. Quite a few Goya-esque characters, like the Three Children of Christian II of Denmark, so white they look dead. With admirable skill, Gossaert places some of his sitters in front of a painted frame, suggesting some reality to the portrait. Gossaert, the antique version of David Copperfield? There is also what looks like the Arnolfini couple, but shot at close range and looking fifty years older than when Van Eyck painted them eighty years before. And they don't look a tad happier...

Interestingly, out of all the portraits, only one is signed by Gossaert. Let's hope some scholar will not have the same idea as Van de Wetering and de-Gossaertise some of the pieces displayed here in 40 years, as most of the Wallace Collection's Rembrandts were de-Rem-branded (apologies for playing with the words, not a typo...), and then re-Rem-branded...

Religious topics show a Gossaert that must have been a fervent Catholic. The Christ's tormentors, in the Mocking of Christ, again announce Goya-esque figures (no obvious link with the Oldenborgs in the previous room though). Mary Magdalene's gaze, half-provoking, half-imploring, makes her charming and forces sympathy upon us. Saint Luke is painting the Virgin without looking at her...

As I exit, dreaming about all the beauties I have just seen, in a violent return to reality, a somehow ill-perfumed man steps on my feet and does not apologise. How can anyone be so rude and in such a bad mood after having seen such beautiful art?
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What led to the Cafe de l'Aubette - the Mondrian exhibition

I went yesterday to see the Mondrian exhibition at Beaubourg in Paris. With lead feet, as people would say in French
Upon arrival, I was, against my will, part of a surrealist dialogue:
- How much time do I need for the exhibition, I asked the woman making sure everyone had a ticket
- The time you need, she said
Tiens, can one be more French? Thanks for your help
And then I dug into the rooms

The first rooms started to reverse my mood: Mondrian was a fauvist to start with, and before he thought polders were beautiful, he painted Kandinsk-esque and Derain-esque trees, and expressionist paintings. Things are getting worse in the 3rd room (there are about 20). Bart van der Leck's dockers remotely remind me of Frida Kahlo's autobus, without the nuances in the colours. Just before the disaster. Later on though, his Mine is full, probably unwillingly, of very welcome perspective

A toddler, probably enlightened by the bright fauvist colours, is hurling. How sadistic shall parents be to drag their new-borns to a 20-room exhibition? And more importantly, to indict that pain to others?

Then all the Mondrian rooms. As one crawls through, things are getting simpler and simpler (worse and worse?). Less shapes, less colours. No more trees, or wharves, or oceans. Only compositions. And the paintings start less and less to belong to Dutch museums or collectors

Everywhere, guards sit on chairs, like a Damien Hirst installation, without the dot paintings - or Orozco-imported Mexican policemen

Here, very nice idea. A reconstruction of Mondrian's workshop. Not to be mistaken for a Mereiles installation. A woman picks the glasses to give them back to the guard sitting in the corner... "They are not mine, they are the Master's". T'as qu'à croire...

Outside, a man with a pink jacket tells his daughter, or girlfriend: "You see that blue. Hum.... Could you not imagine it is a misplaced red?" The daughter-girlfriend hesitates. Skeptical, I leave them to their dissertation

Then, progressively, we dive back into the world of shapes and colours. Less neo-plasticism. More feelings and real life. More of Dutch ownership too

Notwithstanding some of my earlier skepticism, this is, in a nutshell, a very interesting retrospective, very well organised and documented. Only Claude Rutault was missing (and Donald Judd, and Elseworth Kelly, and all the ones who drew inspiration from Mondrian to create their own universe). And references to the polders from which Mondrian is said to have drawn his own inspiration. And more mentions of Mies van der Rohe. The only place I found the word "Bauhaus" was in the bookshop, outside the exhibition...
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Saturday Art Fever

Une fois tous les deux mois environ, le Marais s'anime le samedi soir pour le vernissage des galeries les plus éminentes du quartier. Hier soir, c'était Daniel Templon, Almine Rech et Emmanuel Perrotin. Et quelle soirée!
Après un début plutôt calme avenue Matignon chez Applicat-Prazan, qui montrait ses chefs-d'oeuvre avant la TEFAF - mention spéciale pour un Helion de 1948, la Belle Etrusque, aux vitrines et aux citrouilles - nous filons dans le Marais.
D'abord Templon. Dans la galerie principale, Philippe Pearlstein. No comment - à part peut-être mon étonnement qu'un monsieur de 86 ans soit à l'origine de ces pièces. Et encore. Beaucoup plus fan de James Casebere dans l'annexe, de l'autre côté de la rue Beaubourg. Casebere construit avec des maquettes des villages, mi-Playmobil, mi-Prisonnier (la série...), qu'il photographie ensuite. L'artiste est là, qui explique sa démarche. Un journaliste arteux tente de l'interviewer avec un téléphone (?!): "Pourriez-vous commenter l'influence que Mondrian a eu sur votre oeuvre?". Casebere, surpris, lui demande de répéter, le temps de trouver une réponse. Bravo James! Quelle élégance de ne pas faire passer l'autre pour une cruche qui ne lit que Pariscope
Nous déménageons ensuite chez Almine Rech. Beaucoup plus de monde, Pierre B, Betty C, Heidi S, curateur de l'exposition. Un parfum de la dernière exposition de Lambert. Des Baldessari qui n'ont pas été détruits - et pour cause, ils ont 5 ans max. Ed Ruscha, en photo et en oeuvre. Bobbi Woods, Pettibon, une monumentale sculpture/installation de Jim Shaw. Excellente sélection, excellent vibe. Courez-y. Jusqu'au 26 mars
Puis nous finissons la soirée chez Perrotin qui a, comme toujours, l'élégance de recevoir à dîner après ses vernissages. Nouvelles oeuvres de Bernard Frize - beaucoup de monde qui virevolte. Et qui fume dans la petite impasse St Claude. La encore, plus séduit par les pièces de l'annexe. Daniel Firman prend des airs de Duane Hanson pop. Il y a la Josephine. Un congélateur sous une pierre tombale. Un amas de buches en bronze. Des mains à la Fantomas qui sortent des murs. Des néons qui profèrent des paroles définitives. Des machines à laver qui tournent. On se croirait presque en Belgique
Ca y est, la soirée est finie. Dommage, on aurait bien encore découvert des pièces et des artistes de cette qualité. Mais il faudra attendre deux mois. Pourquoi n'y a-t-il que 6 expositions par an?
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VIP's comment, February 28, 2011 12:06 PM
Quel talent!!!
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FT.com / Arts / Collecting - Lower East Side story

FT.com / Arts / Collecting - Lower East Side story | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
Smaller contemporary art spaces are set to make an impact on the New York art fairs, says Gareth Harris
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‘Frankenstein’ at National Theatre in London - Review

‘Frankenstein’ at National Theatre in London - Review | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
Mary Shelley’s monster is birthed onstage in London by the Oscar-winning director Danny Boyle, who has a keen sense of the trappings of life in this world.
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Leo Castelli Gallery, Archives of American Art | Leo Castelli's Cache of Art-History Gold | By Daniel Grant - WSJ.com

Leo Castelli Gallery, Archives of American Art | Leo Castelli's Cache of Art-History Gold | By Daniel Grant - WSJ.com | Culture and lifestyle | Scoop.it
From the late 1950s through the '70s, the Leo Castelli Gallery was perhaps the most prominent commercial venue in the world for art. Now, the Castelli Gallery's records and correspondences can be viewed at the Archives of American Art in Washington.
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Bright Young Massages

My first massage experience was quite traumatic. Young graduate, I had just moved to London to pursue one of the two careers which at the time seemed reserved to the Continentals.

This is when I met Alexandra. Alexandra was a young Swedish girl, who was doing very non-Swedish massages at the best London gentlemen grooming salon at the time. When I asked for a deep-tissue massage (ie non-Swedish), I clearly underestimated the power that masseuses have over healthy yet lying youngsters supposed to relax after a series of exhausting interviews. To heal my bruises, I had to embark upon a two-week Arnica programme

Back in shape, and more mature a few years later, I discovered what I still think now is (one of) the best spas in Europe. More experienced in the massage category, I by then had learnt the difference between deep-tissue, shiatsu, thai, four-hands, hot stone, ayurvedic, reflexology and many others - and decided reflexo was my favorite one: why bother being oiled up on your whole body if only the feet would do. This was until I met Sundeep.

Sundeep probably thought he invented reflexology - and that he could read my life in my feet. After having told me he could see that I smoked - and did not need my feet for that, he said, based on the colour of my skin -, I was uber-stressed (by what?) and not in a very good general shape, he undertook to finish his reflexo with a tonic scramble of my feet. What he did not foresee was that my bones were delicate enough for the scrambling to translate into a two-week plaster. My left foot was broken, and the concierge quite amused when he saw me limping the following day

Notwithstanding these two appaling experiences, and because this blog should be about lifestyle, I still have wonderful therapists to recommend:
- Chantal, at le Normandy in Deauville, who goes where most others don't;
- Josy, at les Fermes de Marie, who gives one of the best reflexologies ever
- Karin, at La Reserve, who is capable, from a shiatsu session, to give you a fairly precise description on how you tidy your house
- and last but not least Maria, at Marc Delacre in Paris, who always seems to find THE spot in your body where stress has accumulated

Thanks to those four, and a number of others, my traumatic experiences with  Alexandra and Sundeep are long forgotten
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