Around Sculpture

Last week, I attended the opening of a new show at Venice's LA Louver gallery with my dear friend Spangler. I loved the gouache paintings by Sol LeWitt, as well as the sculpture above, by Joel Shapiro. It's magical how it seems to be falling, as if in motion, and how the lights multiply its shadows, like echos of light and darkness.

This made me reflect on how different LA and Paris are. LA, all angles and modern; Paris, voluptuous and old, as reflected in this sculpture by Antoine Bourdelle, in the garden of the Paris museum that bears his name.

Short & Sharp

I've always liked short hair and find endless inspiration in women such as writer Colette, actress Louise Brooks and many more. Also, as an amateur ballerina, I like anything that clears my neck and keeps my head light and sleek.

Candi, at Paper Scissors Rock in Venice, is in charge of my style. The doll pictured below is just one of the many crazy items that adorn the mirrors and walls at this hip and fun salon.

The Bolter - Remembering Kenya

In Nancy Mitford's novels, the narrator's mother is an elusive character, the Bolter, who dashes around the world, collecting husbands; together with the Hun-hating, entrenching tool-wielding Uncle Matthew, the Bolter is one of the most memorable and funniest characters. It turns out she was inspired by Idina Sackville, a five-time divorced eccentric who had fallen in love with Kenya - along with too many younger men she was keen on marrying.

In The Bolter, just released in the USA, her great-granddaughter Frances Osborne tells the story of her life. Not only does it portray a unique woman, but it also explores the mores of Edwardian London, the craziness of 1920's England, the impact of World War One, and the methods of English colonialism in East Africa. In Kenya, she was friends with the Dane Karen Blixen, who later wrote Out of Africa - they even shared a lover, Denys Finch Hatton.
Colonialism in Kenya was meant to be based on railroads - in the early 1980's I took the train from Nairobi to Naivasha with my family (see pic - I'm on the right). This fascinating book brought back many memories of Kenya where I lived as a child. Some of Osborne's lyrical description of Kenya's landscapes and wildlife stirred deep emotions in me, making me long for my very own paradise lost.

And if your paradise is all things books, do check out dear Gabbi's fabulous post on the topic. This must-see post features great pictures, an amazing visit to the Los Angeles Public Library, and, yes, an award for me...
I love reading, and I love Gabbi!

Fare Thee Well, Miss Blossom

If Ella Fitzgerald's voice was sheer sunshine and Billie Holiday's a poignant dusk, then Blossom Dearie's was the very first sweet rays of early morning; it was often said she sounded like a little girl, a birdie. A Verve artist, she was also friends with Miles Davis and haunted New York jazz clubs with her wispy voice and boyish haircut in the 50's and 60's, giving very personal interpretations of standards. Hear her sing her smooth, tender "Surrey with the fringe on top", her swinging "I won't dance" and her high speed "Killing me softly with this song".
She was one of my very favorite jazz singers of all times as well as an accomplished pianist, and on February 7 she went silent forever. It broke my heart.
And if you buy only one of her albums, go for Verve Jazz Masters 51: Blossom Dearie.

Vanity Fair Show At The LACMA

When I was in London last year, I was sorry not to have time to go to the National Portrait Gallery to see the Vanity Fair exhibition, with its striking poster - Gloria Swanson, snapped by the great Edward Steichen . What do you know? Now the show, like me, is in Los Angeles...

It was a magical afternoon at the LA County Museum of Art, as I took delight in seeing divine shots by some of my favorite photographers, amongst which Man Ray or Mapplethorpe. I especially loved the group portraits of actors, such as the one with a radiant, beautifully aged Vanessa Redgrave at the center, and the Shakespeare one, featuring Sir Ian McKellan in a suit and pair of Converse, as well as dear Dame Judi Dench.
I was thrilled each time I spotted one of my heroes: supreme French author Colette, dancers Anna Pavlova and Bronislava Nijinksa, James Joyce, Thomas Hardy, Igor Stravinsky, Louise Brooks... Sadly, as decades went by in the different rooms of the show, I spotted fewer and fewer people I worship; it seemed the photographs went on to focus on bland celebrities (the Miller sisters - why oh why?), models (Gisele may have a spectacular body but is she in any way inspirational?) and the like rather than on great minds.
Who are your heroes and icons?

Role Model

Yesterday I grabbed my New Yorker from the mailbox, stepped into my kitchen and unpacked my groceries, including a bottle of Ginger Ale; all of a sudden, childhood memories and emotions came back to me.

When my family was living in Iraq, we all adored Deborah. To my parents she was a dear friend, while to my sister and me she was the best aunt ever, always around for our birthday parties and willing to watch video tapes with us - oh how many times did she sit through The Sound of Music, or my then favorite, Flashdance? The picture with my sister and me (wearing a Bar Harbor, Maine sweatshirt!) was taken during our trip to Jordan with my mum. Just the girls.

To me, she was also a role model. She was an independent working woman, a young American diplomat who was also very beautiful and fun. Oddly, three things came to embody what I aspired to through her: that she had a place of her own, the Ginger Ale in her fridge and her subscription to The New Yorker. That's what I must go for when I grow up, I'd muse.
And yesterday, with my Ginger Ale and my New Yorker, in my little West Coast studio, I thought of her. She is now an American ambassador in a key Gulf state and has two daughters I am enamored with; she's my role model always.

Calling all bloggers! I want to buy a large poster to decorate my new place. Art, photography, I'm open to everything. I'm considering this one. Any suggestions?

Great Old Ladies

On the street, I love spying on Little Old Ladies - their dainty steps, their classic elegance. I also love Great Old Ladies, the ones who despite their age, are still fresh in the way they create art, like Louise Bourgeois who is currently feted at the Centre Pompidou, like Vivienne Westwood, Joan Didion, or the regal Vanessa Redgrave, who is beautifully profiled in the April issue of the British Vogue.
Who's your favorite Great Old Lady?

UPDATE: Hours after I posted about Great Old Ladies, I learnt the death at age 100 of Germaine Tillion, WW2 Résistance fighter, concentration camp survivor and great anthropologist; read more in the Comments section.

I am a Kashmiri

I am a Kashmiri was a leitmotif and a source of pride in the life of the extraordinary Indian stateswoman Indira Gandhi, whose biography I just read...
As a tribute to Indira's beloved Kashmir I thought I'd post on one of my favorite treats, Kashmiri tea. I first had it during a trip to Ladakh, in the Indian Himalayas. This regal, sugar-packed drink blends green tea and many spices, of which precious cardamon is my favorite. I keep my Kashmiri tea mix in a sleek wood box. What's your favorite spice?

In her memoir (worth reading!) Under My Skin, which I read last week, Doris Lessing says few novels can rival with well-researched, well-written biographies, and I may agree... My interest in historical bios was sparked by a gift, Carmen Cahill's excellent Bad Faith, on the life of the loathsome Darquier, a Frenchman who fervently promoted the German agenda in occupied France during WW2.
After Bad Faith, I read bios focusing primarily on the lives of incredible women: Anne Somerset's Elizabeth I, Caroline Weber's Queen of fashion (on Marie-Antoinette), Amanda Foreman's Georgiana and finally, Katherine Frank's Indira. All are remarkable reads.

International Women's Day with Elsa Schiaparelli

Today, March 8, is International Women's Day and I thought I'd take this opportunity to celebrate an extraordinary lady, the fiercely independent fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli whose engrossing autobiography, Shocking Life, I am reading at the moment. The bold color on the book cover is Schiap's trademark Shocking Pink, an acid hue I too love. Thanks not only to Schiap but also to Coco Chanel, Madeleine Vionnet and Jeanne Lanvin, it seems that the 1920's-30's was really a golden age for women designers...
Lately I've really been into outstanding women's bios - Katherine Frank's Life of Indira Nehru Gandhi is next on my reading list. (If anyone has book recommendations, I'd love to hear them!).
It always makes me sad when girlfriends of mine think feminist is a dirty word, or that in our day and age it is no longer necessary to take a strong stand in favor of women's rights. I remember the day when, aged 9, I stepped into class, wearing glasses for the first time; my teacher (ironically, a woman) gave me a bright smile and said "Oh, you look just like a little secretary!". She would never have said that to a boy. I'm sure she meant it as a compliment, but in the end it's remarks such as that one that cripple women's ambitions.