Or maybe he just likes to play…
Mister P times three
François Poisson works and plays at 59 rue de Rivoli.
He shares clay and paint,
and will make room for you at his table
if you’re nice.
So much happened since I last posted, it has left me at times without words, but now I’ll find them.
Front door of 59Rivoli on May 15, 2010
On my birthday, les Omnis arrived in Paris. Beautiful coincidence.
Poets, artists, musicians.
From Cuba, on a European tour.
An extension of their Festival de Poesia Sin Fin.
Friends of my friend Sara Roumette (journalist who spent much time in Cuba), it was arranged that they use my studio at 59 rue de Rivoli for one of their performances because the gallery was occupied by Ruban Vert. The magic of photo studios, you can transform them into anything you want. I was thrilled to be useful.
Amaury standing on his head, in the pot that he wears there, which reads in Spanish, 'this is not a casserole.'
From the moment Nilo, Amaury and Luis Eligio walked in (a 4th member didn’t get permission to leave Cuba), I could see these people were awake, alive, excited, participating in life with full hearts. They’ve worked together for 15 years, have friends all around the world and connect directly, hands-on. People so open are a strong contrast in Paris.
Luis Eligio, makes eye-contact with everyone, after each piece of clothing that he takes off on the sidewalk in front of 59.
Amaury and Nilo wrap Luis in Cuban newspapers so that he can barely move...
...nor talk, nor see
Performance continues upstairs with projections, poetry, music.
Amaury and Nilo
That evening after their performance it took us three hours to walk just over two miles. Everything was new for them, and their interaction with it was energizing for us.
After Paris, they went to Barcelona and there the trip was cut short. Papers. Bureaucracy. A premature return to Cuba. If that wasn’t disappointing enough, they just sent out an email with recent news. When they arrived in Havanna they were “randomly” searched (all three of them) and all of their belongings were confiscated : disk drives, computers, memory cards, cameras, poems, paintings, all images from their tour, all of their work and private correspondence. For 30 days their belongings will be held hostage.
Poets, artists, strip-searched and held for six hours. For what? For thinking differently? For behaving as free-thinkers? For inspiring people in Amsterdam, Denmark, Prague, Paris and Barcelona?
Thousands of kilometers away, this leaves me feeling helpless.
' ' Libres ' '
http://omnizonafrancaen.eltinterocolectivo.com/
Sometimes, when you think life can’t get any better, a piano rolls through the door and everything changes.
Thursday night’s vernissage of Vagabond Gallery’s Barbès Pas Grave II found us painting on Gaki and dancing to rag-time. TOUT est possible à Paris, don’t listen to Parisiens who say otherwise.
The list of creatives showing work included myself, Gaki, Adulkid, Yasuyo Iso, Kana Ueno, Etsuko Kobayashi, Sebastien Lecca, Kim Quach and Michel Vray.
Vincent Ange, Vagabond curator and catalyst. Vagabond entrance.
My wall of photos.
Kim Quach and Pascal Foucart watch as Yasuyo preps Gaki.
Gaki-zen
Gaki-zen getting cold on cement floor as we paint on him.
Sebastien Lecca, Kim Quach and Etsuko Kobyashi painting.
Slowly getting up from the collaboration, he finishes the painting, adds glue and other elements to the void where his body had been.
Gaki rechauffé, with Michel Vray.
During a pause in the action, I’m talking to a German artist about her self-explorations in super-8 while someone orders a piano.
Turns out, Philippe Bas doesn’t go anywhere without his upright.
And I thought my camera bag was heavy.
At least I don’t have to worry about parking.
The excitement and anticipation, while he pushes his piano into place, makes it feel like Christmas morning with Saint Nick making a surprise personal visit. And he hadn’t even played anything yet! Somehow we knew.
This music just makes people HAPPY.
Philippe Bas playing stride lit a fire under this woman.
Piano and good times
At 59 we sometimes paint on the walls.
Tonight the artist hosted by our gallery painted in the street.
Emmanuel Flipo likes to throw pigments to the wind.
Gaki arrives through a cloud of Flipo's performance
Flipo draws in the street in front of the 59 Rivoli gallery
Flipo making his déssin on rue de Rivoli
Flipo’s exhibition will be on view in the gallery until May 2nd.
59 rue de Rivoli, 75001. Paris.
Back from the sea with burnt forehead.
I moved my studio today.
By the grace of coincidence I’m taking over a small space just next to my old one at 59 Rivoli, that has been prematurely liberated. I will have a corner! I’ve been working in a rather small space, though I am quite used to working in closets. This one was basically a hallway.
Left-to-right, it was . . .
Back-left corner is where I'll now be working. The wall of photos is in the space where I've been the last several months
The full width of my space/hallway/studio, between the the walls. You can see the orange backside of a painting by Bruno Dumont that hangs in front of the entrance to the 4th floor. In the corner there is also the old bathroom door, provocatively painted by Hao, recuperated from the squat days.
The wall between my and Aliocha's studio. The b&w collage is staying, and growing. The other photos and black background are gone. Francesco's studio is in the distance, with his Don Quixote de la Mancha on the far wall.
Demain soir je fête mes six mois de résidence au 59 rue de Rivoli,
j’exposerai le travail résultant de ce temps,
les images attendus mais plutôt inattendus,
autour d’un apéro, partagé avec des amis
nouveaux, de longtemps et pas encore connus.
A Paris? Vous êtes bienvenus.
Mariana and Fabian getting ready to mount Yuyo's canvas in his studio in Central Park, Barracas, Buenos Aires.
I’m feeling nostalgic tonight.
It’s almost midnight in Buenos Aires.
I’m in Paris.
My cheeks are still chilled from the walk home along the frigid Canal St Martin.
It’s hot and muggy down in BA and there will probably soon be a downpour.
One year ago today I watched a huge canvas being put onto an 11-by-3 meter frame in a studio in my neighborhood in Barracas, BA. Yuyo (Luis Felipe Noe) would soon start assembling his work for the Venice Biennale, a process I would continue photographing for three months in Argentina, plus another two weeks in Venice.
Today was day one.
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