Just Above Sunset
February 26, 2006 - Goodblognight
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Our Man in Paris is Ric Erickson, editor of MetropoleParis. His weekly columns appear here and often in a slightly different version the next day on his site from Paris, with photographs.
Right now MetropoleParis has paused publication for maintenance, so posts there, and here, will be somewhat occasional, as Ric is rather busy.
This week, Saturday night in Paris, a writers' party in Montmartre with the writer from Los Angeles living there now. |
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Goodblognight PARIS,
Saturday, February 25, 2006 - Last week Laurie Pike wrote, "It's on the ground floor, so no need for a door code - just knock
on the window to the right of the door." Quote:
"It's lavish... but I call it home." - Clifton Webb On
hand - many lady bloggers, maybe four - including Laurie. This housewarming at Laurie's place in the Rue Nobel, a one-block
affair on the north slope of Montmartre with the middle third of the street being stairs, yes, and tapping on the window is
okay. Inside the lavish apartment is one room with a bathroom half as big again, full of coats. It is what is called a foot-in-the-door
- a 'pied-à-terre' - and if you put in more then someone has to step out the window. As
a housewarming gift I've brought a black telephone. Although I've carried it across town from Montparnasse it is not a portable
phone. It is a phone you plug into the wall to make phone calls, and receive
them too. Laurie plugs it in and ding-a-ling, it works. She phones her portable and it goes buzzt-buzzt. Somebody says it
costs a fortune to call portables. Laurie looks fondly at her new-used plastic black telephone. It's a '80s model I got for
free from l'Obs for subscribing for three months. Everybody
is drinking Champagne because there's no corkscrew. I haven't been to a party like this since the late '70s. It hardly occurs
to us carry corkscrews everywhere we go, especially since giving up the booze. If in France you should remember to carry a
corkscrew if you are visiting Americans. They think all bottles come with open service. Here they don't. Pushing in the cork
is a sign of dementia. I
talk to a lady blogger named Tanya who used to call Atlanta home. She has just
started blogging and is eager to meet another blogger. I think she says she didn't know what she did was blogging. I try to
tell her about the room full of monkeys with typewriters - no, sorry, this was a French Tanya. She has never heard of the
writing monkeys. The IVY lady tells me we met before, in the Rue Daguerre. She's
right. It was with Matt Rose. She was with Matt Rose, or he was with her. IVY does art stuff in Paris and other places. So
does Matt - that's the connection. IVY is cool. In
fact, where is Matt? It was he who turned me on to 'In Paris Now' and Laurie Pike, and now this housewarming. Laurie has a
house in Los Angeles and now here on Montmartre, she has the foot fixed in another house, lavish but modest. Well, proportionally,
the bathroom is as big as a château. Usually they are smaller than toilets, and the toilets are tiny. Fact is, bathrooms are
rare. Why not live in one if you're lucky enough to have one? Being
with a crowd of people is making me nervous. I might drink too much orange juice. I decide it is 'Group Photo of the Week'
time. I already did this on Thursday but I like challenges. As in small room, poor light, no corkscrew, about a dozen people
who have never heard of the 'Group Photo of the Week' and left their dress-up heads at home. But there's an unused chandelier
so I ask Laurie if I can turn it on and she says, "Oh no, it's far too bright. Everybody will hate it!" So
on it goes and she's right. It's like the gangbusters of industrial chandeliers, totally movie-grade and a dozen pairs of
hands fly up to shield weak eyeballs from the cut-glass crystal blaze. Well, none of us have seen the sun recently, have we?
But I'm not drinking so I can bully the others into a pose. I wave my arms, order loudly, plead, cajole, hector, grimace,
and prod the victims into place. Jesus they look wooden, lined up like aslant bowling pins. Hell, this isn't about a photo,
this is about control. A second 'Group Photo of the Week,' dammit. Their
attention - they are standing at attention - starts to wander after the fifth shot, and then the girls turn to the window. Something is happening out there. Matt's arriving on his new Vespa scooter. He looks
like a spaceman with 50 kilos of anchor chain, and he ties up his wheels. And he's carrying some cornucopia. Man, we already
have grapes, peanuts, sausage, those Mexican things, and jeroboams of Champagne. Matt
kisses everybody. This is Paris after all. It's why he moved here. I'm proud of Matt, introduce Tanya to him and vice versa.
I wasn't making him up. Of course the glow goes off when it turns out that Matt doesn't actually blog. Um, actually Matt's
life is a blog but he's so busy living it he doesn't have time to jot it down. I guess this is what all bloggers did before
they started blogging. Like me, in reverse, I write too much to be a blogger. Now
there must be 20 people in the room. Frankly there is no separate kitchen to hang out in and there's too many coats in the
bathtub. Yet there seems to be room to sit and when somebody gets up somebody else sits down, so there is a sort of equilibrium
- like in a passenger cabin on the Queen Mary just before sailing time. Matt
shows up looking for a corkscrew. I quit carrying one in 1991. They are pushing the corks into bottles. It's
too wicked for me and I find my coat and get the hell out. But first waves of new people coming in force me back into the
room. Here's the landlord with wife and daughter. The daughter looks like a blogger,
looks like she has adventures in Paris. I'd stay, but then I would have to take my coat off and brave the bathroom full of
coats. Outside the window I wave at all my new friends, but nobody in that little
room full of smoke, bloggers, jeroboams of Champagne, grapes, ashtrays, Matt's motorcycle helmet, can see the geek who shot
the 2nd 'Group Photo of the Week.' Just
in case there's no photo, I jump the Métro at Vavin and shoot the big poster for the LA expo at Pompidou. I did it the other
day at Gaîté too but it was on the same platform. I almost had my head on the rails for that one. |
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Editor's Note: From
the Los Angeles Times, February 25, 2006 In an official expression of support
for the arts, Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa held a media conference Friday at the Caltrans downtown headquarters to celebrate
landmark exhibitions of Los Angeles contemporary art and architecture coming soon to Paris. See also - Paris puts up 30 years of Southern California art history - or at least one interpretation. Suzanne Muchnic - Los Angeles Times - February 26, 2006 Early next month, much of the local art world will decamp for Paris for a taste of its history as seen through
French eyes. "Los Angeles 1955-1985," the Pompidou Center's survey of L.A. art during an invigorating period, will open March
8 with about 350 works by 87 artists, and though the roster is broad, it's been a hot topic of conversation and contention.
Copyright © 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 - Alan M. Pavlik
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Counter added Monday, February 27, 2006 10:38 AM |
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