Bigindicator

20150209095033-2015-02-05_11

Paris Dispatches: Salad Days on the Canal Saint-Martin

  This week I explored the Canal Saint-Martin, on the east side of Paris, and all the way up to the northeastern periphery. On Tuesday, I headed for Comptoir Général at the suggestion of my friend Dino. I wandered the cavernous rooms; I leafed through boxes of antique photos of babies on fur rugs; I read about the hunt for a mysterious Congolese river monster/possible dinosaur (Mokélé-Mbembé); I checked out the vines hanging from the ceiling and the vintage movie posters hanging from the... [more]
Posted by Brett Day Windham on 2/9/15
20150202144829-screen_shot_2015-02-02_at_3

Paris Dispatches: Fashion Adjacent

  Fashion week may be over, but I live in the Marais, and it is chic, and the sales are still on. So, I had an opportunity to see some real dandies over the past ten days. Now I know what an actual flâneur looks like—and it’s not me. I exist only on the periphery of the sartorial goings-on. I did not loiter outside the shows, hoping to be photographed, or taking photos myself. My visit to only one showroom, my excessive lèche-vitrine, and my lack of focus-on-fashion have all crossed me... [more]
Posted by Brett Day Windham on 2/2/15
20150130152126-p1040928

Paris Dispatches: The Week of Feathers

  When we came back to Paris it was clear and cold and lovely. The city had accommodated itself to winter, there was good wood for sale at the wood and coal place across our street, and there were braziers outside of many of the good cafes so that you could keep warm on the terraces. Our own apartment was warm and cheerful. We burned boulets which were molded, egg-shaped lumps of coal dust, on the wood fire, and on the streets the winter light was beautiful. Now you were accustomed to... [more]
Posted by Brett Day Windham on 1/30/15
20150127112214-small_things

Paris Dispatches: Three Weeks Walking, a Tally

      Today marks three weeks in Paris. So far I have found (among other things) reams of caution tape, bits of strapping, a pile of zippers, a tiny hand, Christmas tree bows, a tassel, a lighter, a button with an emblem of a Roman horse, a lollipop, a photograph of a girl with a sweet note to her father on the back, champagne cork-wire, Nous Sommes Charlie stickers, an earring, perfumed cards, a neon palm tree drink stirrer, various feathers, various new year’s confetti, various... [more]
Posted by Brett Day Windham on 1/26/15
20150123101122-_mfwb24f0t5zvqr74lit8a8grqg-1bnzog_hxu_zfyr_a-0g07mcpnoljrdlfasx8npco7gzhhgttze__k6ncleo3c4_s2048

Paris Dispatches: Merci, Georgia

      We are not idealized wild things. We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all. ―Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking     Today I walked to Père Lachaise. I took a weird unfriendly road that looked like a suburban truck route. It was a sad,... [more]
Posted by Brett Day Windham on 1/22/15
ArtSlant has shutdown. The website is currently running in a view-only mode to allow archiving of the content.

The website will be permanently closed shortly, so please retrieve any content you wish to save.