Le bleu intense de Fra Angelico: Roman - Première édition (Écritures) (French Edition)

I thought I would give you both pleasure by asking him to send you this interesting and poetically inspired volume — and by promising that you would mention it or would have it mentioned by the Saturday Review. So if you are not doing artistic books for the Saturday look through the volume when you get it — then send it on — and recommend it please — to the editor of the Saturday Review — and if possible when ours will have come out — send it please to Domenico Tumiati-Ferrara.

I realize that I have forgotten to tell you that the topic of the volume is our dear friend "Fra Angelico" I read yesterday some prose translated by Lamb - The South Sea House and Oxford in the Vacation, it is exquisite. As soon as I go out I will buy the Tauchnitz that is about him to read it in English and make him a "good" notice. And you my dear friend, what have you been doing. I hope you will also need two cards to tell me about it and I send you my warmest regards. Could we not meet at Bruges at Xmas? I have asked the author of "Fra A. Cantagalli 1 via Michele di Lando. And now, listen — if I wrote a clear and detailed letter to Garnett explaining in detail the content of the volume either Garnett or Colvin do you think one of them might recommend me to Hachette?

Letter 2: Olivier-Georges Destrée to Laurence Binyon

I also think as my Parisian friend does that the recommendation of a director of the British would have more weight than that of Angellier — supposing he would answer, which seems unlikely. Please advise me on what you deem is the best thing to do. If Garnett is surprised because Angellier has not answered tell him I am all the more puzzled — because I had naturally written a particularly cordial letter to Ang. If you think that it is too complicated, do say so freely because I am starting to think that the best thing to do would be to take a train at the end of the month and explain myself to Hachette without further ado.

He asks me to send my notebook on Keats that I had offered to send him so he could look at my translations. I will send it to him tomorrow and suggest to go and see him on Sunday to show him all of my work. I hope it will work out but I do not dare speak of when I will be through with my notices as they each take a day or two to finish.

And I still have 12 to do! Would you please thank Mr Garnett on my behalf for his kind suggestion of an introduction to Beljame Angellier is evidently better. I will write myself to Garnett to thank him as soon as something is arranged - your Praise of Life is most welcome. I envy you and beg you to forgive me if I do not write anymore today as I am weighed down considerably by all these notices I still have to do.

Wikipédia:Sélection/France/Articles de qualité/M à Z — Wikipédia

Regards, and till next week. Thank you for your card. The arrangements for Italy are perfect and I hope we will be able to tour Tuscany together. I am not really concerned about it though because I must before anything else finish my notices and my preface and I will be busy at it until Dec You would be most kind and extremely patient as well for how much information have I not asked from you!

If you could give me a little more information about Christina Rossetti and Swinburne. One postcard for each would be perfect. But you have time to do so at your convenience because they are the two last poets I will do and I will not need the information for another eight or ten days. I am very curious to see your woodcuts because it is the only kind of sculpting that I value.

Regards and a thousand apologies for disturbing you again with this anthology. PS I do not think any editor would consent to publish the text in English, considering. But I thought that what I could do is to append one or two original short poems to give an idea of their verse.

I was very grateful when I received it — belatedly because of the silly Christmas and New Year disturbances and thank you warmly. I remembered at the same time that I have not yet sent you the strange novel by Barbey which I told you about. Since the 1st of this month my anthology is almost finished and I have resumed my poem on the Wise Men, my progress is very slow but I am very happy to be working at it.

I wrote to Angellier ten days ago to ask him to send me a letter of introduction for Hachette and once again there is no answer. I will wait till the end of this week and then write directly to Hachette. How far are you on your great poem with the "tousled? Horne says his mother is writing again on Botticini!! I am greatly pleased my dear Laurence that you in turn will lock yourself up for a month for a kind of "anthology" of Norwich poets. At the end of the month you will sympathise all the more with the great misfortune that befell upon me when I took on this Sisyphean task.

Your postcard on Norwich is charming and if I come to England this summer we must go there together as you say — finished, my anthology? Perhaps on the 31st of January will I be rid of it — the camels did not fall in the snow but one of the Wise Men started talking with such loyalty that I simply cannot stop him — he talks at night in the mountains — and every day I must throw more wood over the fire for the people who are listening to him.

If he goes on he will burn every pine tree in the mountains, but I have no more influence over him than Mr Speaker would have on a member of the House of Commons and I am resigned to let him have it his way. Angellier is a pig. He never answered my letters and I have now written to my friend Primoli and expect his reply. It will delay the Rois Mages — and we will thus both be busy at our "great poem" throughout summer. It is really a very good engraving. I do not like the last Strange. But you very cleverly understood the strength and simplicity of the old wood engraving masters.

And between Image and Lamb there is at the very least a difference in hairstyle! Do not send any other edition for Lamb, this one is charming and is quite enough for me. I will read with care the bookmarked sonnets by dear Philip Sidney. If I cannot do it at the moment it is because I must finish my notices, my preface and review everything carefully for the 15th, at which date I must send the manuscript to Hachette.

Dear Count Primoli to whom I had written in my distress sent a note to Paris immediately and I received a letter from the director of Hachette last Sunday, informing me that they are very willing to see my anthology — The Tyrol, no. It is all German there, but I would be delighted to go with Streatfield to Tuscany since he is your friend and I expect you both in Bruges next month.

And again, my warmest thanks. I was very happy to see him with the clever look of his eyes and the sensuous indolence of his mouth. As for Keats — it is rather a disappointment — we see so little of him and so much of the horrible chair he is leaning against. We must ask Cust to buy it for the National Gallery — but of course I am very grateful to you because I was delighted to see it — and to know what this portrait by Severin that I so much wanted to see looked like.

Yesterday afternoon I read a little of Lamb — Captain Jackson — and amicus redivivus! How funny — I took it last night to my dear Paul Tiberghien so he could admire the fine soft smiling lips — and the eyes - of our dearest Elia and I read Captain Jackson to P Tiberghien and Goffin and they enjoyed it very much. There is only Banville whom I can think of who has written a book of prose so exquisitely witty and charming — but of course with the difference of wit instead of humour.

Could you indicate to me the names of the poets whom Walker has photographed? I will enclose both pictures with the manuscript and send it soon to Hachette. Thank you very much for your kind card. And we will see each other, and in the old town we will talk for the whole of a long expected day. Is my portrait a woodcut — it looks like a lithograph and I think much better than the first print you have done.

I think that you are improving very much. Have you read all the beautiful interviews of king Georgos? I like him very much and hope our friend Ionides and all the keepers of the British are supporting him as much as they can. I am looking again at my portrait — I like it — and thank you very much for it. Do you think that mayer is still able to speak properly any language after having travelled for prints in so many countries? And I would like to say in our plans. I do not have any money to travel to Italy and I could hardly, even if I borrowed some, leave before April I think it is too late to go to Florence this year.

And especially — spring — which came yesterday, is evolving so quickly and so beautifully that I really do not feel like leaving for the South at the moment. With the greening shade of the coppices, buds cracking open at the tip of branches, clusters of blossoming daisies in the lawns, softening skies which sweetly recall all springs past, everything beckons me to stay up North and witness the refreshing sweetness of flourishing spring. Only I need towns just as you do — and if I remember well we had planned to go to Devonshire and I was wondering if we could spend our holiday there together.

What do you think? Perhaps you would rather go to Florence — if you can do both, go to Florence first on your own, and spare a few days to spend with me in Caerleon, Tintagel and over Lyonesse. We will discuss it at any rate on Saturday evening and Sunday at Bruges and these days Bruges will be gorgeous. Could you not stay till Monday evening? At any rate, unless otherwise instructed, I will be waiting for you on Saturday evening at Write a postcard to tell me it is all fixed.

The confirmation of our Cornwall excursion "where Mark is king" and the very pleasant perspective of writing an entertaining book on old Flemish towns. From what you tell me I think the best thing to do would be to set up a little scheme, with a summary of the chapters, and send it to you when it is done. I will do so and send it to you when I am through.

Squire is very pleasant and interesting it is true — but I cannot refrain from considering him a dangerous lunatic — because in our talk he repeatedly said that Florence was "a horrid place"! I have no news of the anthology yet, but I have many things to tell you — but we will soon be able to talk about them and that will be better. A magazine from here is devoting a special issue to my poems on Saints and this will give me work till the end of the month.

And then all will be well! I hope they will take it at the Mercure. Regards to Streatfield and even Sq[uire] and thank you for your postcard. I was about to write to you, to tell you that Allen could change my scheme however much he wants to. As soon as he writes to me I will let you know what he suggests and would be very happy if "our" scheme would work out. If I am going to Torquay? I will write to my friend today, and I will ask her if she is home during the first days of July and ask her to answer straight back — as soon as I get her reply this week I presume I will write to tell you if I will stop at Torquay or not.

I saw last week some sights of Montenegro. What a beautiful country — and what a beautiful poem you wrote about it, I have read it again since. I thought about you during the whole time of the walk because I am sure you would have enjoyed it very much — with the stagnant water crowded with blooming water lilies gently lapping the walls — and it certainly is beautiful because it makes you neglect the halls and the cathedral despite their splendour — but once you have seen the ramparts there is nowhere else you would rather go.

Thank you for the letter about Allen — and do not look for anything else for the time being. Now about our departure — arrange it yourself — I am not at all keen on seeing the Jubilee — it would be better to go straight to Cornwall. Tell me which day I should come. Must I take my evening dress for our return from Cornwall? I will write in a few days to confirm my arrival time. I will write to my friends to warn them of my coming on the 30th in the evening — two days with them — it is perfect and everything is sorting itself out.

And if you walk by an agency with some travel literature on Cornwall please send me some — so I can see for myself — and first on a map — where Ruan and Tintagel are. We must gather a collection of marvellous and wonderful legends to animate and glorify the landscapes we will see.

Thank you very much for the amusing narration of the Adventures of Alice, I read it with great pleasure — and a special thank you for your so charming letter which was sent at the same time as mine on our birthdays. For several years now, on the evening of the Saint Laurent I have watched stars shooting across the sky over the large and beautiful garden under my windows. I thought I would do so last night but I got so engrossed and thrilled with a short life of Saint Peter Celestine which I read in the evening that I forgot about everything else.

Maybe the life has been published in a booklet since the article was published. If I can find it I will send it to you.

• Wikipédia:Sélection/France/Articles de qualité/M à Z.
• Making Morse Code Jewelry: A Guide?
• ;
• Occupy Wall Street: The Communist Movement Reborn;

Warm regards and see you soon. Thank you for your postcard which I found on my return from Marcinelle where I spent the last week. On one of the days of the week I went to the old abbey close to Marcinelle that they are restoring. The ruins of the abbey, a beautiful sunshine, and a river running at its feet all made me long to have you at my side. It will be for your next tour of Belgium, and we must think of it soon if as I hope you can come for a few days at the beginning of the autumn.

I am glad to know that you liked the photograph of Reims as much as it deserves it — the portal is remarkable and we must see it together. When are you going to Dresde? Do stay somewhere, be it for a couple of hours only, in Belgium. I received a cordial letter from the director of the Dome for whom I will straight away write an article on ivory sculpting at the Brussels Exposition. Thank you very much for this article! I am starting a project on a new museum of industrial arts which will give me a lot of work but probably has a chance to succeed.

My affairs are overall better and I am gaining strength and courage — very happy to hear that you have lost nothing of your productive verve. I am greatly anticipating reading le Banquet. Tibergh has ordered the apology of Newman from London. We are very intrigued and amused at your great dedication to him. We are hoping to find out why you admire him so much by reading the apology. Matthews told me this morning that he is sending what he owes me. I had threatened to sue him! Regards to Image and Mayer. When is Mayer coming? The sky is all blue in anticipation and the last two mornings have been dazzling.

I am waiting impatiently to sit down and listen to the tales of your guests — P. How amusing it is to read my own letter remarkably improved by your translation, and I thank you most gratefully for all the trouble you have gone through for me once again. I have not much to say to you but I wanted to say directly at least how grateful I am. Nothing has been decided yet about the anthology, because I am still waiting for the letter from the ministry. They tell me he will certainly answer but the wait is always long.

I have better hope for next year in any case. The talk with Image about the bottle of Rum must have been very funny indeed. We will soon go and listen to him at Henekey at this rate, as one use to listen to Coleridge at Hampstead. As soon as the edition of your poems is decided on write to tell me.

I am correcting the drafts of poems that will come out for Christmas, I will send them to you then. I will transcribe the letter to B. Thank you again and send my regards to Image. I will write to Squire one of these days. Regards to Pye as well, I will write to him at Christmas. How much more pleasant and charming it would have been to tell you in person why I did not answer your letter straight away. My dear friend, you well know, and will be neither jealous nor upset, for you know how much this friendship with Paul Tiberghien is longer and prior to ours — that there is no man on earth I love more than him.

Added to the regard that I have had for him for so long I feel a venerable veneration for his life, which is the most devoted, the most loving and the most charitable among all I have observed around me — despite this regard, this genuine veneration, and despite the fact that we have been raised together intellectually, artistically and that we were converted together — despite all that there have often been, as you can imagine, some disagreements between us — disagreements do happen between people who love each other most dearly.

But our friendship was so true and so solidly established that it could only become stronger and firmer after those discussions and transitory disagreements which reasonably occur between two friends who see each other constantly. Was ours of the same nature? I thought so up till now, dear Laurence, and it has only been for the last few days that I doubted its strength.

And as I read your letter, a few reproaches springing to my mind, I wondered how you would bear these reproaches if I exposed them to you? Here is what I really think: I believe the contrary — that your mind is not accomplished at all — that your beautiful, almost perfect, form — will naturally reach that perfection through constant work — and what you must work on is the improvement, the broadening of your mind and the refining of your thoughts.

Generally speaking it is not up to me to show you how, but I do blame you for having neglected and brushed aside the few means I had suggested to you. You have not the faintest idea of what religious life is about — do understand me, I am not at all trying to convert you — it would be preposterous and absurd — but do understand dear Laurence that you must know what religious life is. When you will have read yourself, through the story of the life of a few saints for example — what this religion, which you believe is narrow and formalistic, truly is — then will you see what absolute happiness one can find in it.

You are clearly and undoubtedly a gifted poet. You must remain as such, we certainly agree on this point! But if you want to fulfil your objective, if you want your poems to spread out like a beautiful picture book but also convey love and inspire thought — you must steep your writing in belief and faith. Think of the book which stirred you the most among the new books you have read these last few years. You mentioned Tolstoy one day, and it is indeed not the form you admired in him, but the faith, dear friend, belief and truth.

It is now that your mind shapes itself, believe me. Your "London Visions" are but sensations, various fleeting emotions. Your "Supper" and your "Porphyrion" are two first attempts to collect and gather your thoughts in an artistic fashion. Those two poems are appealing, because the verse is beautiful and especially because they are infused with a powerful and remarkable proclivity to conjure suggestive images, which all gifted poets, such as yourself, possess.

They are appealing indeed, but they will never stir and inflame me. Very well you will say — it is not given to everyone to be or to write like Tolstoy. That is true — but it could be given to you, if you would just look around you simply and without prejudice. Tolstoy understood life so well and defined its objective so clearly, dear friend, because like his godson, like the better of his two old men, he preferred action and charity work to vain protest. Think of The Cossacks, such a wonderful book — so sincere, so true, as you know, although the end is sad and a little disheartening.

Because the improvised Cossack loses heart and goes back to the city. Now — to conclude — one always gets confused when settling matters in a letter. And how true they are about yourself. But reproaches, you will ask — what are you reproaching me of? Only this — that being hesitant and solicited as you yourself admit in these words, solicited in various ways — through prejudice mostly and laziness only a little, you refused to read two or three little books that, with certainly much moderation, I had selected for you.

I asked you one day to read the Fioretti — it would have had for you the exquisite charm of a voyage to Tuscany and Umbria, with marvelously pure Angelicos everywhere within your reach. I asked you one day to open a Golden Legend at the British to read — 2 pages only — the dialogue or rather the answers of Saint James Intercisus to his executioners.

What were all these denials — incidental coincidences, memory slips due to your numerous occupations? Dear, no — it is defiance — defiance towards the most loving of your friends — let it cease, by all means, now that I have exposed this defiance to you my dear friend. I have never asked you, and never will I ask you to try to pray, or embark upon any religious practice — but when from very far off I do try, and admit to it quite freely, to help you see through yourself more clearly and to let you see "what you love and seek" by advising you to read a book carefully selected for you and which is consequently beautiful, do not be defiant anymore, and if there still is a little effort to make, make it for me, because these readings should not imply any commitment on your part, and they can, to my mind, contribute to your happiness and to your fame.

How long this letter is, yet I must still add a few words to make our positions quite clear; for with your defiance which I am most certain exists, I would like to make sure that you do not lend me any hidden feelings — According to the information I have read these last days about Benedictine convents — the life of these monks — who endeavor to be pious, industrious and artistic at the same time any man entering the convent and who displays certain skills for an art is indeed encouraged to promote it: Considering that you despite yourself belong to the first category — would I seek to convert you?

Of course I would, dear friend! How could you think that I would love you any other way. And this alarms you, bothers and distresses you, and you fear that I would appeal to and take advantage of your kindness towards me by asking you to try and make an effort which would be most distasteful to you, as for example saying a prayer for me. But dear friend — once again and once for all — rest assured — all I ask of you I have told you already, it is to show no ill will, it is not to turn your back to the feelings that are shaping my life — and especially I repeat that I will never seek to make you see the Light under any other form than a poetic or a heroic one, for I know who you are.

And now I think the radiance of our friendship is breaking through the little cloud that was looming over it — and though it has been longstanding, I think I was justified in writing at such length, so we can each enjoy — as we have until last month — full trust in one another. A very condensed postcard today: I received a charming note from Pye about the poems — and wrote back to him. I guess you do not write anymore because you are daily expecting the publication of your book that I am equally eager to see.

As to me, I lead an unvarying life, engaged in the study of logic that I am through with thank goodness, and psychology that I am about to finish. I hope to have finished my studies of philosophy by April — it will not be much of a change! But it will probably make theology easier - my editor has been delayed for the publication of my anthology — he will send out leaflets next week — a page of these leaflets should be a portrait of Keats. And he will even pay for this reproduction if Walker should demand it, if such is the case would he be kind enough Walker to write me a note telling me how much it would cost.

May I ask you to do this for me? I thank you very much if you can do it and I trust I will hear from you soon, about your book and your news. As soon as I received Porphyrion I read one of his songs, which kept me under a spell of enchantment. It was Monday morning: And I would have liked you to be at my side all those mornings to show you these unparalleled skies, for you who love nature and life so dearly and have such a gift to describe and depict it in your verses.

You are blessed, really you are my dear friend, to have such a marvelous gift for poetry, and to constantly perceive novel and radiant images of nature rendered in a natural succession of beauty and consecrated harmony. You have become immortal and ranked amongst the greatest poets of your country, now that Porphyrion has been published.

It is my present opinion at any rate. As it was the first time I read it — and I have no doubt of the great success that awaits you. It is all the more obvious to me now since you have so beautifully revised this first song. And do not think that my friendship amplifies all the good I think of your poem: I do think even better of it compared to the first readings, but as with the first readings I am far from thinking it perfect. The IVth book, despite its dazzling title, Orophernes, and the brilliant final battle, is to my mind rather vague, wavering, and the entire beginning seems to unravel with no definite purpose but to lead to the final picturesque battle.

For a genuine poet you are, and I insist upon it, for having spoken ill of the end of the poem, you must know how highly I think of it, on the whole and in detail. The changes you have made in the first book have considerably enhanced its appeal, and the similes remain what they are, images, metaphors of classical beauty and that one feels, as I stated above, are destined to remain forever as such — that of the wine blending with water for example, and that of the dreaming warriors whose movements are likened to the slow unravelling of weeds in the rivers — those and a thousand others beside.

Porphyrion unmistakeably brings to mind Endymion and Hyperion — and that is what prompted me to say earlier that you can from now on be certain of your fame — because to my mind Porphyrion is by far superior to those two classical poems by Keats, and the pretty verses in Martha and the beautifully soothing verses of Augustine would suffice to rank you once and for all, as I said, among the greatest true poets of this century — I have not yet read the other pieces of the book volume, but as I have known you as such before recognition, I would not want to be of the last to hail you in your glory.

I am writing all this to you sincerely and merrily, because you are my friend, my dear friend Laurence Binyon and that I know that neither praise nor blame will change your behaviour towards me or towards others. It is what I have done with you in this letter through my praise of Porphyrion. I will now take it with me and show it off this very day to my friends Paul Tiberghien and Arnold Goffin. The newspaper articles will certainly be good — but if some were to be dull, crush them under your foot like a "Conquistador".

I am a better judge than all those hack writers, and I have read enough English poetry to know what to think of the very beautiful and very dear Porphyrion! I will try to have the book purchased by the library. Do not stay too long in the West Flanders so you can start and turn your full attention to "the forest". British Museum and be confident that the letter will arrive as it should and that relationships can resume as they used to!

I was very touched when I received your letter dear Laurence and as I read, and I certainly thought you would, that you had taken an interest in my whereabouts from afar and were sometimes worried as to my fate during those 4 years. There were indeed some moments of fear and anxiety, especially in what you call — the burning of Louvain. I stayed in a seminary which was next to the Halls of the university — these burned down — and for most of the night we were faced with the unpleasant alternative of either being killed if we left the seminary — or burned alive if we remained there — as I believed it was the end I went to the chapel and I gave communion to the sisters who served in the seminary.

I received communion myself and served at the mass of the director of the seminary and when I returned to the courtyard I saw to my immense and understandable relief that the wind was blowing in another direction so that the danger of spreading of the fire was over! I also remember distinctly how beautiful that night of the fire was, we could see most of the town burning, we could hear the shots of cannon balls between Malines and Louvain — and shotguns inside town — and the garden of the seminary seemed, all the while, just like a haven of peace and happiness.

And then came those 4 years, during which, despite what you have probably read in the newspapers, you can hardly imagine how heroic and brave our people were, whatever their social background, workmen, gentlemen, magistrates or civil servants fought boldly against the invaders. There would be a beautiful book to put together if we gathered all the documents that describe the pluck and determination displayed by this resistance, we could easily do it without any fear of exaggeration because most of these documents, especially the letters of Cardinal Mercier and the protests of the magistrates, have been published and read with much interest — they have sustained our hopes and our courage during the occupation.

And now that all is over, there is much that I would, now that all is finished, have been sad not to have lived through. And I am sure it is your opinion as well. And now that you are reassured about my fate tell me if you were able to stay at the British Museum. Were you not mobilised? Why is your writing paper headed "the Athenaeum" are you working for this magazine?

Do ease my mind on their account and tell me if you were able to work and on what during all this time? I guess that in France as in England some quite beautiful books have been published during those 4 years. If you have heard of some that might be of particular interest to me would you let me know about them? My respects to Mrs Binyon and to your young ladies who are surely quite grown up now, and believe me, my dear Laurence, yours forever, devoted and grateful Dom Bruno D. Please send my regards to Image if he still lives, as I hope, in Fitzroy St. PS Have there been works at the Westminster Cathedral during the 4 years — I mean the completion of the inside?

I suppose my sister in law will have told you that my MS on modern religious art burned in the fire of Louvain! I very much appreciate the sentiments you have expressed to me. Ernest Renan — , French philosopher and historian. Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve — , French literary critic. Selwyn Image — , stained glass artist, designer essayist, and poet, a much admired friend of Binyon's who helped and encouraged him in his career. Charles Elkin Mathews — , British publisher and bookseller. Herbert Percy Horne — , English poet, essayist, architect, designer, art collector, and art historian.

Italian for "there," "so," "well," or "then. The story of Barlaam and Josaphat is a Christianized later version of the story of Siddhartha Gautama, who became the Buddha. La Chartreuse de Pavie, a monastery situated in Lombardy, northern Italy. Constantin Ionides — , British art patron and collector. The sunny part of the space is much hotter but much nicer than the shadowy one. I can start feeling things - is it not the overarching principle of art after all? The clearing, with its mirrors stuck on the floor which are the continuation of the lollipop algorithm, is also nice.

The cafeteria is also quite stunning to say the truth. The optical illusions resulting from light and perspectives are, too.

1. The New Rules of Fitness Marketing: How to Attract Clients and Build a Successful Business Even if You Hate Selling?
2. Menu de navigation;
3. Chansons des rues et des bois (French Edition).
4. Lordine di esame dei motivi di ricorso nel processo amministrativo (Italian Edition).
5. God at Work: Your Christian Vocation in All of Life.
6. Account Options?
7. www.newyorkethnicfood.com:Kindle Store:Kindle eBooks:eBooks in Foreign Languages:French:Literature & Fiction;

But overall, artistically, it is quite poor, in my view. Playing on illusions, shattering perspectives. But are there not several layers in understanding a work of art? Especially when it comes to contemporary. Nevertheless I think about Mika. Les correspondances baudelairiennes this is rather an incredible compliment. I still stay for a while, for this whole installation, although unimpressive, has managed to create some sort of cosy feeling, and this, despite the zillion of people who have now entered the space.

All the rest is allowed. In summary, the facilitator, once more, has done a top job. But the work is nevertheless not up to scratch I believe as it does not create enough feelings or questions. They have produced The House of Dreams, look like a couple of matriochkas and may very well provide the renouveau that Monumenta will be after Special mention for their particular type of cherry tomatoes - an absolute delight with scallops - and their more-tender-than-one-would-dream-for faux-fillet, with all sorts of vegetables.

Good, yet quite unknown, address - Life in images, which I believe is the Bingo video commercial, and has started to get viral on the web this week. A very well made little film. Watch on Time To Sign Off www. One of the best magazines available in France. Otherwise, the Inrocks's free tone, extensive cultural topics and its many discoveries, every week, make it an absolute must-read. Let's hope Matthieu Pigasse, the owner, who is taking over this week as editor-in-chief after the departure of David Kessler for the government, will keep it intact.

The tone of the actors? Some improbable bits in the scenario? The picture of Iran? Good idea indeed, just become a friend of the Whitechapel Gallery, one of the most interesting places in London and probably the only membership I did not have yet. Decided I wanted to know more. Bully, a film by Wearing, premiers in this exhibition in the UK. Eastenders meets Prison Break. First example of diversion - the bully is crying after having insulted a number of people around. Interesting way to enter Wearing's universe. Another TV set shows what could have been the ancestor of the lip dub.

One question that has nothing to do with Wearing springs to my mind: What about the 90s and the 00s?? Still in Gallery 1, Wearing impersonates her sleeping grandmother in a film as static as a picture.

Sort of Cindy Sherman 2. Upstairs, the famous series: Signs that say what you want them to say and not Signs that say what someone else wants you to say. Beyond the signs, an fabulous portrait of early 90s England. Interestingly, most of these unspoken signs are an expression of sadness and pessimism, even for people taken in nice surroundings. A few lovers, a few music players. Some pairs - or couples - have a sign for two. What does this mean?

Some address Wearing herself "What a lovely girl" held by an aged grinning man. Some are circumstantial "Give me a job pls" , some more profound "I hate this world". In some, you can hear their holder "I signed on and they would not give me nothing". Amusing to see that on the exhibition advertisement, the photos that are shown are almost exclusively those of despair "Help", "I am desperate". Even at the Whitechapel and for one of the greatest living British artists, ads have to be eye-catching Upstairs still, in Gallery 8, more films and more experiments on identity. More Cindy Sherman type of photos, except that Wearing creates masks representing her actual and spiritual family; unlike Sherman she does not try to become them.

Funnily Wearing as Warhol looks like a scarred no typo! The portrait of her in Claude Cahun is particularly well done. The mask Cahun holds of Wearing face. The confession booths are also quite striking, although by the time one gets there, the pattern of Wearing works has become more than obvious. Across the corridor, a selection of 12 works owned by and exhibited at Number Average figurative paintings, antique "by the studio of", the selection is not great.

And perhaps the Pathway through Park oil by Mike Silva. I missed the first two parts of this four-stage exhibition - but I am not sure anymore if this was a big miss Such an interesting work on identity, appearances and masks that one could wonder if Wearing is really Wearing real name, or if she has decided to wear it, as apparently all things in live have a double meaning. Or a double entendre Multiple options - with sundried tomatoes and fennel, or fresh spinach and molten blue cheese.

Arrive early as v small but try it. Film based on eponymous year-long theatrical success, which I refused to see in the theatre as I was not thrilled by the pitch a family discussion around the first name of a newly born turning sour. So much better than that, with excellent cast, Berling, Bruel, Benguigui and Judith El Zein, with Guillaume de Tonquedec as best espoir - Anahi, the reputation of which is not new.

But I never tried it. Argentine restaurant in the heart of Paris 49 rue Volta, 3e, between Turbigo and rue Saint-Martin , wonderful sea bass ceviche as good as in Cartagena, Colombia , specifically recommend the Argentine baby-beef. No need for sides, totally self-sufficient. And perfect place even for those on a Dukan diet - the opening of Scenes de Lin rue de Grenelle - I have been a regular in their Gueliz shop for a while, especially for the two-days turnaround of bespoke colourful linen tablecloths and napkins.

Check out the Marylebone Monocle shop - anyway, always worth it. But particularly this month.

Letter 1: Laurence Binyon to Olivier-Georges Destrée

The two trays are wonderful in a guest bedroom for water and mini-toiletries - and the Finnish cloths pictured , which look as made to match but are not, will look very smart in your bulthaup kitchen - the UK commercial for thinkbox. Imagine a good-looking dog having fun with its best friend, a cuddly rabbit. And multiply the fun by 2. You are almost there - Bref, j'ai un nouveau pote - and the whole series of Bref, je suis dans la merde. Back at the level of fun of the first episodes. Almost worth learning French to be able to understand them - tokyobike, the recent Shoreditch offshoot of Yanaka, Tokyo-based, independent bicycle company - from the outside, it could be a sharp concept store or a delicious cupcake seller, but hardly a cycling shop.

Lectures, 174, janvier - février 2012

Bicycles are beautiful and the whole shop would almost make me feel like cycling and that's a feat! Particularly nice are the summer shoes, with a large, white sole. Deliciously regressive album My God is blue is excellent for bobos branches. But with a feeling of incompleteness, somehow. I want to be Lucy Kellaway in a second life. She is always SO spot on - Juvia, the latest addition to Miami's restaurant and nightlife scene, corner of Lincoln and Aston.

Top floor, half outdoor, lots of babes, delicious cuisine, OK wines and an uncomparable atmosphere. Need to book well in advance though - Racines 2, rue de l'Arbre Sec in Paris. First time I was unconvinced by the staff, came back and was right: A good, not overpriced, address in the heart of Paris - the new bread in the London Eurostar lounge - a detail, but soft, delicious, seed bread, mostly available on the top floor - RAP, aka Ristorante Alessandra Pierini, an Italian restaurant in the Martyrs area in Paris rue Rodier.

Incredible pasta all'amatriciana, so rare outside Italy, burrata that could have been eaten in Puglia and very inventive osso buco, all with a staff that goes out of its way to please. Will be perfect once they take off the "Restaurant" board outside - Il Bordello, a longstanding Wapping London pizzeria, recently discovered: No italian deli food, half empty shelves, no Fage Greek yoghurts the European discovery of the moment and overripe fruit. Great book turned multi episode documentary, the TV show does not deliver the promises of the book.

And the pseudo historical shootings are grotesque. I first have to apologise for not having written a piece in the last two months. I was working on a new website - soon to be released - and also moving home, which will give me the opportunity to post something on the real assault course of moving in the next few weeks Went back to the wonderful Savoy Theatre last night. Few people, I realise, are aware that the Savoy is not only one of the - newly redone - flagship hotels of London and now a very good restaurant - the Savoy Grill - but also puts up a most charming theatre.

Just on the right of the entrance door of the hotel. The cocktail seems at first most unpleasant. Gros et gras, I think, not only physically, but spiritually Simon's play revolves around a broken duo of comedians who end up hating each other's guts. Only Griffiths would perhaps contribute to win me, before I enter the theatre. He was the stage partner of Daniel Ratcliffe, of Harry Potter fame, in his theatre debut, the wonderfully sensational Equus, a few years ago. The Sunshine Boys is also DeVito's theatre debut. Soon after the beginning, I start being convinced. DeVito is a fantastic actor - and a fantastic comedian.

He sounds right at all times, and is hilarious, even when he mistakingly unplugs a TV set. Griffiths - who must have put on about 20 kilos since Equus, or I was sitting further behind then - is an excellent sparring partner, but is somewhat eclipsed by Danny. The first act is an uninterrupted continuation of witty jokes and fun situations Things are getting worse in the second act, where we are supposed to finally see the performance - very Pirandell-esque - that brought fame and glory to the Sunshine Boys.

I have to say they are much funnier when they fight in real life - enfin, on stage - than in their own theatre. A buxom prostitute-turned-nurse, a very average misunderstanding, some unwanted arguments between the protagonists, all of this does not manage - and how would it? The Duchess of Malfi, at the Old Vic, is a good example. The second act is grotesque.

And she was right. The Sunshine Boys follows the same rule. Poor second act However, there is a third act here, which is very much of the calibre of the first, with an additional touch of emotion. A fat nurse is introduced on stage, seems all the characters of this play have to be enormous! The wit is back The end, which I did not see coming - and which I of course will not tell here - is well found and well played, and wraps up the whole play nicely.

As we exit, I wonder: And why don't we have the pleasure to see more American actors on stage in London? This Shakespeare play is a bit light in its plot - reminds of Marivaux or Goldoni - but very entertaining and served by a superb direction, wonderful decors and costumes and exceptional actors. Only regret is some too easy "jokes" sometimes, like the farting session on stage Watch it on http: Historically half-accurate I believe, this is not a play, but an acted documentary. No drama, no rythm, no intensity. Too bad as this is a truly interesting - and proud - moment of British history.

He is currently painting a seminal triptych in St Paul's Hammersmith church. Da vedere, o rivedere. Serreau's direction choices are impossible to understand des Grieux is a 17th century gentilhomme in the first act, and a contemporary punk in the 4th act and Dessay's voice painfully reaches the third row - rarely seen a performance where the audience is so unanimous Very limited choice 2 brunches, 2 main courses, that's it! Compensated however by super-friendly service.

Knut Hamsun est un salaud. Seduisant viking, gardien de porcs, errant entre la Norvege et les Etats-Unis dans les annees , il recoit le Prix Nobel 30 ans plus tard, pour, en , en offrir la medaille a Goebbels. Il ecrit une necrologie laudative de Hitler qui lui vaut d'etre assigne d'abord a residence, puis dans un asile psychiatrique pour vieillards.

C'est un des tout premiers textes de Hamsun, de son vrai nom Pedersen, que Xavier Gallais et son acolyte Florian Azoulay ont decide de nous offrir ces temps-ci au Theatre de la Madeleine. Comme l'Etranger ou la Recherche, avec une phrase dont on se souvient. On patiente dans l'escalier. Ca sent le theatre public. On avait pris des places mais ce n'est pas numerote, une sorte d'easyjet du theatre, sans speedy boarding.

On joue des coudes. On ouvre la cage aux fauves. La lumiere reste allumee. Gallais apparait sur la scene, avec une veste en moumoute. Micheline raconte son reveillon. Des chuts commencent a fuser. Micheline n'a pas compris que c'etait le comedien. Gallais est la, sur la scene, l'air hagard, l'air de s'amuser que certains dans la salle, comme Micheline, ne le reconnaissent pas et pensent que c'est juste un spectateur original qui a decide de se faire connaitre.

Le decor est bizarre. Pas un refrigerateur, non, un frigidaire. Des lampions qui s'allument pas intermittence, on ne sait pas bien pourquoi. Une machine a cafe, je crois. Enfin, il donne l'impression de lire mais il connait bien son texte. Mais une lecture tres mise en scene, selon un crescendo inversement proportionnel a l'intensite lumineuse.

Tres vite, le texte nous fait glisser dans la misere. Celle ou l'on vend les boutons de son pardessus pour manger une derniere fois - oui, manger. C'est Prison Break sans prison. On aimerait le voir dans Koltes, dans Ibsen que detestait tant Hamsun, dans Beckett pour jouer tous les roles. Le texte est rythme par des "Je te le dis". On dirait qu'a chaque fois, on descend plus profond dans le cercle des enfers. Gallais sort ses tripes, met ses couilles sur la table. La lumiere a totalement disparu maintenant. Je ne pense meme pas qu'il adhere aux idees de son auteur, mais il est clair qu'il aime ce texte.

Et le rend magistralement. Une fois les tenebres arrivees sur la scene, notre Lecteur se tortille, se tord. Tour a tour Commandeur, Cyrano - encore - combattant ses ennemis le mensonge, les prejuges, les compromis , dans un paysage a la Nolde, il s'enfonce, jusqu'au desespoir, dans les pensees de son genial auteur. Allez voir Faim au Theatre de la Madeleine.

C'est une performance d'acteur servie par un texte magistral, qui nous fait assister a quelque chose de rare sur scene. Il faut choisir d'aller voir Faim. When one moves around a lot in Paris in one's own car, one ends up either paying a lot of money to our dear Tresor Public, or spending a fair amount of time underground, trying to make sense of the mazes supposed to help us park.

Would never have thought so many middle-aged women would be interested in Spanish painting. The first painting on the left is a bit of a revelation. Eliseu Meifren y Roig painted a metallically enlightened Paisaje nocturno Nightly landscape. The framing is extremely well chosen. Could stay for hours in front of this peaceful piece. Unfortunately, this is also the occasion to notice that, once again, the curators have been quite approximate: Or the young Manet.

Possibly Forain for his portraits. Casas, the cousin of Utrillo. The art is nice and sympathique. The boards on the wall keep on mentioning the influence of Velasquez and Goya, but also El Greco. This is in a way some sort of countryside painting, which one has to look at with benevolence. Further up in what seems now to be a single large maze-shaped room, Rusinol's Aranjuez could have been painted by Klimt. Nothing to do with guitar here. Just the colour and the touch of the brush on the canvas.

At the end of that same corridor, Hermen Anglada-Camarasa's Granadina is attracting me irrevocably pictured. Amazing how Klimt-esque, again, it looks. The board on the wall gives a so-so explanation and only mentions the Vienna Secession. I am troubled and attracted to that painting, in front of which people hardly glance, preferring Monet-like urban lanscapes and pointillist pieces.

A rather ugly women next to me has the same perfume as someone I know well, which continues to trouble me. Mir has never stayed in Paris and Sorolla only a bit, I learn, just as I was thinking how ugly the canvasses symbolising La Espana Blanca were. However, I strongly and utterly refuse any country-chauvinist interpretation of my tastes. Further up, family links again. Togores in L'Estartit is like Derain in Collioure. Sunyer, the Spanish Douanier Rousseau. Vazquez, the young Manet and his torero. Iturrino's Sevillan home, its colours and refusal of perspectives, echoes Matisse's Red tablecloth.

Echeverria and Gauguin share a taste for half-casts, but not the same control over their art. The rest of the paintings is as expected. A non-representative Miro, a non-representative Dali, a sublime blue Picasso my favourite period , Casagemas funerals, and another couple of interesting Picassos. The curators could have avoided the last Sorolla, after the exit. I went to see this exhibition unconvinced. And this is a very good surprise. It is clear to me now that Catalan painting is my favourite - and this is also true for contemporary artists where amongst others, I like the wit of Sixeart, in his paintings, and his titles.

Mir is the exception. Zuloaga too, but the other way round. They have other masters worth showing too. After the Spanish exhibition, if you still have time, don't miss the Paul Guillaume and Jean Water collection, part of the permanent collections on display: Don't miss it, really. Thomas Olbricht is a nice man, with ecclectic tastes, at the antipodes of the preconcieved idea that most people have of Germans.

He is also quite francophile, both in spirit and in tastes. Lots of German visitors in this almost last day of exhibition. How much time for the three standing in front of Ryan McGinness' We're in this together acrylic to realise they are obstructing the view? I don't feel in anything together with these three. Opposite, a modern vanity in 34 photos.

Same four people but I struggle at once to determine whether they are the same - until I notice one who could be an olderly version of Diane Dufresne. Yes they are the same. But hold on, as I get into the corridor, the Brown sisters are getting older. Interestingly, they have been photographed by Nicholas Nixon the husband of one of the four every year between and The first room starts with a neon piece by Laurent Grasso which has given its name to the exhibition, Memories of the future.

Coming sideways from the corridor, the words are not immediately recognisable and could be hebrew. Ouverture sur le monde. Neat and sleek from a distance, the painting figures stains of paint and holes in the clown's - the painter's - attire. Everyone is here, and their brother: Many women, beautiful, ugly, caricatural, transformed, sad, in outer space, golden, blurred. The second room is a Wunderkammer of its own, of a new type though. War atrocities are fantastically rendered by this young Swedish artist, with a meticulousness in the details that leaves me thinking.

Vik Muniz and Robert Capa double act is one of Muniz' best photos. The Brazilian artist recreates existing pieces of art with incongruous materials, photographs them and destroys the original piece. Borell Garcia with children's toys is better than Ketchup Marilyn, I would say. All of Cattelan is not in New York as 51 drawn autoportraits on transparent sheets are here, facing Rutault-esque plaster surrogates by Alan McCollum.

These have been drawn by a policeman specialist in sketches, based on the description of Cattelan made by 51 close friends or family members. Tiens, Sophie Calle n'est pas loin. The gallery around the patio also accumulates masterpieces: A fake billiard room, with sharply cut cues, real eggs instead of billiard balls and a pair of shoes hidden behind a curtain, is probably the wittiest piece in the whole exhibition.

The next rooms are darker. Matt Collinshaw's series, the Last Meal, which figures, in a Dutch master kind of way, the last meal of people in death row, is striking and more. Superb Wunderkammer also, all around the memento mori theme. The room below is no longer a Wunderkammer but a Schaedelkammer. Balkenhol's could be a small version of a sculpture by Baselitz. Cindy Sherman poses as Saint Jerome, but hardly any symbols of science here. Shaw's Lychgate snaps me back to Bali, God knows why. I love the warm and oversymmetrical representation of the cemetery.

Freud's unheimliche, says the excellent booklet that has been my guide through the exhibition. A dead Desired Son under a plastic bag Georg Schneider , a hairy Fraulein-cum-animals comforting her ratty rat-like baby Patricia Piccinini , the Bumpan, sort of dreaming little Prince with bumps all over his body Paloma Varga Weisz and a faceless mother and child in a Jeunet-like universe Floria Sigismondi , most unheimlich indeed!

A great place in a great street full of great stuff. I exit, delighted and smiling, this once again surprising, once again high-quality and once again thought-generating exhibition, reveling in the idea that in less than one month, La Maison Rouge will open another exhibition, of, I am sure, the same caliber. I accepted and never thought about it again, until last night, when I actually HAD to go to the Barbican for the Ninagawa production of Cymbeline. I have never seen Cymbeline before but the story seems to me very close to other Shakespearian plots: I have also never seen a play in Japanese, especially an English play, in England, translated into a foreign language.

The furthest I have gone, in such kind of experiments, was the random German-speaking plays on show sometimes in Parisian theatres. As soon as we enter the Barbican, the atmosphere is different. The troup is on stage, getting make up and costumes, chatting, completely indifferent to our being there. Curtainless theatres are becoming the rule these days, but one rarely sees the troup getting prepped up.

Most of the audience is Japanese, raising doubts as to whether I really chose the right place to spend my evening. But soon my doubts vanish. The spirit of Shakespeare is rendered wonderfully. The rapid, halting rhythm of the speech. The extravagant gesticulations of the actors - one would particularly note Cloten there, who could just as much have played in X-Or or other cartoon mangas.

But the charm is not limited to the fabulous troup. The music and the decor play a big part too, to create a holistic vision of a wonderful Shakespeare play. After a while, one stops reading the subtitles to immerse into what seems to be a Japanese play written for a Noh troup. And indeed, maybe it was, and Shakespeare only needed Ninagawa to make it obvious. The master managed, in addition to making this one of the most incredible theatre experiences of the year, to remain faithful to his own culture.

As all grands hommes, Ninagawa says he is ashamed each time he directs a Shakespeare play - ie every year since 30 years ago - as he fears not to understand the English culture. I would say that the mere fact he is from such a different culture makes us understand very clearly the universality of the world's most famous playwright.

As I mentioned before, one of my friends, after the Duchess of Malfi, interestingly noticed that Webster was not Shakespeare, because of the exaggerated bloodbath of the second half of the play. Maybe Ninagawa should try his magics on Webster too. Or maybe it is precisely why he has not tried.

In any event, I am definitely turning Japanese on this one - apologies for the easy pun - and I suggest as many of you as possible do it too. Certainly, as the very bad photo taken on the night shows it, the audience was standing for a good 10 minutes You can fill your fridge and cupboard at any time, as often as you want, you can wait to get the delivery until you have enough in your basket - or not if you prefer, you can shop at 5am or at 10pm - there is not enough space here to describe all the nice features of this wonderful app.

Too bad Waitrose or Monoprix do not do the same. Sooo comfortable, and now available in limited edition at the Monocle shop. Imagine a rather surreal creature surging from nowhere in the middle of a friend's drawing room on a Sunday afternoon in London. This is what Delphine Volange was to me. None of what she is saying makes sense, and yet it does. She is able to cry and laugh in the same sentence. You never know if she and her universe are first or fifth degree, maybe she does not know it either.

Then she starts singing. First song is a warm up. Second song and the many thereafter a delight. Need to listen and download on iTunes, with the caveat that her whole set is much better than some of the iTunes pieces - a quand les autres chansons sur iTunes, Delphine?