Sunday, January 31, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Ideas are in the air, we don't possess them. It enchants me to think that something which has been seen by someone on these pages has hit the right string. I received yesterday this little piece of art playfully made on a summer afternoon by an illustrator with her son. Marie Delafon has a blog too. You may want to pay her a visit.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Palazzina Grassi , already introduced in a previous post, ( sorry if I'm being redundant ) is published today on
WePulse with lay-out showing a wide selection of photos.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Forwarding an invitation from my favorite bookshop in London, Potterton Books.
The interiors illustrations by Jeremiah are stunning. More here
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
For those of you who might be interested, a small selection of my prints in limited edition is on sale at idbazaar, an online contemporary art gallery.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A new Home for a new Life.
As I moved out of my studio in the 6th arrondissement, I moved in to a small and cheaper flat in the 10th and had to make all my stuff fit in.
I sold the large double desk, donated 2000 books to the local public library and turned the new place into a three dimensional scrapbook much inspired by my recent trips to India.
Originally white, I painted the ceiling dark brown and the walls in a shade of drab to balance the awkward proportions of the room.
I was not in a sedentary mood then and had recently become passionate about sailing.
This little flat became my harbor between long travels and had to shelter the memories of my adventures across the sea. Between the urban and the exotic, this place is me, entirely.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A small collection of collage I was requested to produce for a book project, a compilation of collages by several artists put together by the British editor Richard Brereton
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Back to India. Doctor Hazzanuddin Ahmed is a distinguished muslim scholar, a pious man who keeps his wife and daughters in strict purdah and helps his guests with home made cakes engraved with verses from the Quran. A quiet man who lives in his ancestral home in the old city of Hyderabad. This is not the India we fantasize about, no women wrapped in colorful saris, no men wearing dhotis, no namaste. Its about as common as an old irish mansion lived in by an old gentleman. The spectacular we expect is often only an inch away from the cliché when plain modesty is far truer to human destiny.
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