Following on from yesterday’s Turner Prize blog entry, in which I examined the melancholy but strangely beautiful and atmospheric works of both Martin Boyce and George Shaw, it follows naturally that in today’s Daily Norm, I introduce you to one of my first Norm paintings, painted back in 2005: “Cool Norm”.
Cool Norm (Acrylic on canvas, 2005 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)
In my final instalment of The Daily Norm’s homage to Paris (I should add, this will probably be only the first Paris season of many… owing that I am unrepentantly obsessed with the place), I wanted to share my experience of three great restaurants encountered during my time in Paris. In this time of the vindictive TripAdvisor professional complainant, where countless businesses in the hospitality industry are closing down because of picky, negative reviews posted online like school yard insults, without a thought given to the livelihoods of the business men and women they effect, I think it is only appropriate that a good experience is also applauded online, and shared so that fellow Francophiles can also enjoy a great culinary experience to top off a day of Parisian indulgence in the City of Light.
Norms at the Café de Paris (2011, pen on paper) © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown
Well I may be back in gloomy old London, but our cousin over the Channel continues to inspire, and as part of The Daily Norm Paris Season, here are some of the photos I took on my recent trip. Ranging from architectural icons, to skyline spectaculars, there is a bit of everything for all the Paris fans amongst us. Enjoy!
Our last day in Paris, our last breakfast in Le Pain Quotidien on the Rue des Archives, but not the end for our art tour of Paris. For today, we decided to try our luck on a week day where we had failed on Sunday… the Musée d’Orsay. So, like Sunday, there were queues to get tickets. You can buy tickets for the museum online, but they don’t give you the option of printing at home (like the Grand Palais tickets) and instead you have to go in search of a FNAC store to collect your pre-bought tickets, which in my opinion somewhat negates the queue jumping benefits of buying online. So in the event, we waited 40 minutes in a spiralling but steadily moving queue to get in, and those minutes went by fairly quickly, as the anticipation of getting inside and feasting on perhaps Paris’ greatest art collection grew closer. And once inside, we were not disappointed.
My feet still cry out in protest at the mere recollection of how much we were on our feet yesterday. But what a cultural extravaganza our eyes were able to feast upon as we went from one blockbuster exhibition to another.
First stop was the Grand Palais, at which we arrived slightly giddy having indulged in a mid morning mulled wine from the festive christmas market along the Champs Élysées. The Grand Palais is always the host of superb temporary exhibitions, having held Courbet, Renoir and Monet spectaculars in the last few years. This year’s offering is Matisse, Cézanne, Picasso…The Stein Family’s Adventure in Art which explores the stalwart patronage of the well known Stein family of superstar early 20th century artists at the shaky commencement of their careers, and exhibits the vast collection of important works which they amassed as a result (see my gallery below for a preview of some of the works in the exhibition).
The exhibition was split roughly into three sections, each following the acquisitions of the three respective Stein siblings, Leo, Michael (and his wife Sarah) and Gertrude. Michael and Sarah’s almost exclusive obsession with Matisse makes for a very comprehensive show of the latter’s earlier work, when, as undisputed head of the Fauvists, his paintings command attention with their multiple bright colours and coarse brush work. Leo Stein, the more conservative collector, whose at first collected with sister Gertrude, took more to Picasso, but stopped collecting his work shortly after the blue period, finding Picasso’s progression into cubism all too much. It was Gertrude Stein who took the collection further, resolutely supporting Picasso at every twist and turn of his experimental career before his prices spiralled beyond her reach. Then her patronage embraced the likes of Juan Gris and Picaba, right up to artists working in abstract which she began to collect before her death in the 40s. Ever the pioneer, Gertrude’s collection is substantial and multifaceted and makes for a fascinating overview of the post-impressionist period when art was changing rapidly. However my favourite section was Leo Stein’s Picassos from the blue period (see the gallery below). The melancholy figures and muted colours on these canvases are loaded with a depth of emotion and sophistication of draftsmanship which is lacking in the more superficial and, dare I say it, commercial compositions in his later work. Although of Picasso’s adventures into cubism, there are some superb examples, particularly in the preparations he makes for Les Damoiselles d’Avignon. Also worth seeing are the works of Juan Gris who, taking the torch from Picasso, explores the cubism genre in his brilliantly composed geometric fragmentation of everyday life.
It’s Paris season at The Daily Norm, and here in the City of Lights, Paris pulsates with the buzz of pre-Christmas anticipation, millions packing the shops and the metro, the streets starting to sparkle with fairy lights, and a chill in the air coupled with the occasional waft of log fires from the Marais chimneys indicating that Christmas is close at hand.
But the city is not just readying itself for seasonal festivities. Tourists continue to pack and cram into every irresistible cultural corner, cameras flashing, and queues forming. Yes, those queues have been the bane of my Paris visit so far, curling tirelessly out of every museum, on the metro platforms, out of restaurants, and even to get into some shops! Our primary intention, as we set off yesterday morning, was to visit the Musée d’Orsay, my partner having never seen it before, and myself intrigued by the rehang on an allegedly revolutionary scheme of coloured walls which are meant to enable the impressionist paintings to glow more against their new backgrounds. However as we approached, it was possible to see, even from the Tulleries across the river, the masses queuing before the entrance, these queues snaking way beyond the old railway building and almost onto the nearby bridge.
Ahhh as this blog goes to print, I am breathing the air of Paris, the most beautiful city in the world. Paris has no substitute for me. It is the ultimate jewel in the crown of global cultural offerings, every corner of the city exudes architectural magnificence, the Haussmann boulevards are so perfectly laid out that down each road your eyes feast upon one stunning postcard view after another, as the Tour Eiffel, the Arc de Triomphe, the river, the Opera Garnier all come into view. On the streets, the air is crisp and wintery but across the breeze the scent of a magnificent city in perpetual motion fills even the most unwitting visitor with a sense of anticipation. Even the antiquated metro has its own scent of the art nouveau. I adore Paris, from the inherently atmospheric tip of the Butte in Montmartre, to the boutique lined cobbled streets of the Marais. It is a constant inspiration, and I need to visit at least once a year to have my ultimate fill of this stunning city.
Le Paris Formidable (2000, acrylic on canvas) © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown
So it’s only suitable then that in this week’s Sunday Supplement, I focus upon the painting which started it all for me when I was 16 – Le Paris Formidable.
The Daily Norm 
Dec 12
Paris v London: What ever happened to British Café Culture?
I was reading the post of one of my favourite Paris-based bloggers, Becoming Madame, the other day which described a truly resonant and idyllic scene which she witnessed when sitting inside a Parisian café. Like many of the readers who commented on the post, I was struck by how easily one can be drawn into the romanticised ideal of the Parisian café. It was the same when I was there two weeks ago: There’s something about Parisian cafes which exudes effortless elegance. Some of them are tatty, have tired looking waiters who have been doing the same job for years, browning mirrors and horrible toilets. But there’s something about them, with their hand-written blackboards, mirrored walls, wicker chairs and round tables squeezed outside, and cosy booths inside set amongst an array of old posters and photographs, that just IS romantic and offers us the very epitome of café culture. This quintessential idyllic view of the French café was very much indulged in my favourite film of all time, Amélie, and yet, despite the cinematic interpretation, the quirky little cafe captured in than film is wholly representative of reality.
My queuing experience in Starbucks yesterday
So all of this got me thinking (while stood in a massive queue in Starbucks yesterday), while the streets of Paris are literally dotted all over with cafés and brasseries on every corner, each inviting us to indulge with its cherry red awnings and cosy pavement heaters, why is it that in London, the best we can manage is a starbucks or a Cafe Nero every 100 metres? What happened to the Lyons Teahouses which were at the centre of polite society? Or the little privately run café to which everyone would flock for a gossip? In Paris you sit down and are greeted (not always immediately, warranted) by the friendly(ish) face of a smart French waiter. You order your coffee, you sit back, and you indulge in the sweet pleasure that is people watching. In London you queue for a coffee for what seems like an age. You can attempt to sit down, but most of the cafes are turned over to the takeaway trade, so seating is both limited and purposefully uncomfortable so that the turnaround is quick and no one stays too long. Because of the people rushing in and out, the doors are always open. Your experience is cold and drafty and usually, because of lack of accommodation you have to leave with coffee in a paper cup, the small hole in the lid badly designed for sipping so that generally you get half of the scalding liquid down your face before you’ve managed to sit down and enjoy it. And yet the thing is, these cafés are always full, and you get the feeling that in London there really is a growing coffee culture. So why can’t we have the relaxed café culture of Paris?
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