Be careful what you wish for, yesterday I was bemoaning the fact that we have had endless warm, sunny days, which seems out of keeping for November, well today it has been damp, dull and dreary so it jolly well serves me right! Added to that I have been in a melancholy mood.
To try and cheer myself up I went rooting around in the cupboard under the stairs for the boxes of Christmas decorations, surely fairy lights and baubles would cheer me up! Of course it's far too early to decorate, normally I like to decorate in the first week of December. No, what I wanted was to mess around in my studio spare room with baubles, fairy lights and candles and try to make some pretty pictures but nothing seemed to be working for me today, the pictures were a disaster so in the end I gave up and went back to photographing antique books.
We are fortunate to have inherited a large collection of antique books, the top three books in the first picture are French books on natural history, they have some stunning engravings in them and are eighteenth century, I was trying to capture the patina on them whilst imagining who their original owners were, these books were around during the French revolution, how come we have ended up with them? What was the fate of the original owners? what kind of room or library might they have rested in?
In the second picture the books are popular British classics from the late nineteenth century, I know the history of these one's. The first four little books are Dickens and they also include wonderful engraved illustrations, I love the gold detail on the spines, I really should read them but they are so delicate I worry about damaging them and that would be awful, so I will put them back in their home on the bookshelf and admire them.
I am still resisting the urge to invest in a Kindle or Nook, I love books, all books, nothing gives me greater pleasure than a new book. My modern book collection may one day fall into the hands of someone who wonders about the original owner from a couple of centuries ago, I don't believe a Kindle or a Nook would last that long!
Wishing Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate.
XXX
Every day here for the last few weeks has been lovely, almost too lovely! I have been yearning for cold, crisp, misty autumnal days but it is not to be, all we have had is glorious sunshine and temperatures into the twenties an Indian Summer for sure, personally I think it's a bit eerie for November. Every morning I take Crusoe out for his walk, today I thought, I would take you with me...
I know this herd is a happy herd, they belong to our neighbour Michel, he has a bit of knack when it comes to animals, he is dark and good looking our very own Heathcliffe, he rides his horses bareback and is always willing to lend a hand with his tractor in our garden and won't except payment. Every Christmas we buy him a few of the finest bottles Bordeaux has to offer and I add add a few interesting home made chutneys, preserves and sometimes when I feel ambitious a special cake, I have learnt that's just the way things are done around here.
A view of the Château, I don't see it as a Château I see it as a Castle it dates from the twelfth century, it attracts droves of tourists and schoolchildren, inside its a museum, where they teach the history of Medieval France, most of the locals see it as a Walt Disney Castle it has been overly restored with the help of European grants and not necessarily remained true, most of the villagers tell me they preferred it as a ruin..they played amongst its crumbling walls as children, much more romantic but they admit it does bring much needed money into the local economy.
Ahhh Crusoe..."Come on, throw my stick"...
Proud dog, valiantly retrieving the stick
I am a clever dog!
Crusoe killing his stick
Eastern view of the Chateau
Can you see that egg shaped thing in the tree, what is it? A nest of some sort but what?
Autumn Colours
At the top of the hill you can see the highest peeks of the French Pyrenees and beyond those mountains lies Spain
The local Pyrneean goat herd, I love them Crusoe does not, I have to keep him on a tight leash when I speak to the goats in his presence, once he jumped into their enclosure, a battle ensued for hours, he would not come out and it resulted in this
After the Constitutional, Crusoe likes to relax in his favourite chair... and me... well this morning I made myself a large cup of coffee, changed the lens on my camera and practised some stylised shots of antique books of which there is more to come...
"If one lives in exile, the café becomes at once the family home, the
nation, church and parliament, a desert and a place of pilgrimage,
cradle of illusions and their cemetery... In exile, the café is the one
place where life goes on."
Hermann Kesten
I have always loved this quote as it rings so true, especially in France. Hermann Kesten was referring to the many German and Austrian writers, artists, intellectuals, political opponents, etc. Who with the rise of Hitler in the early thirties, left Germany and settled in France.
When France declared war on Germany in September 1939 German exiles were considered enemy aliens and interned in hastily constructed camps and prisons whilst they waited to have their cases heard and hopefully be released, this process took some time, if it happened at all. In the meantime they lived in appalling conditions with disease running rife, a few of them did manage to escape. By June 1940 the Nazis had marched into France and occupied Paris. An armistice was signed and France was divided into two, German occupied France and Vichy France under the rule of the elderly Marchal Petain. The truth is both were very dangerous places to be and many French found themselves exiles in their own country.
As the Nazis were marching towards Paris, thousands were trying to flee the capital, by any means, trains were full to bursting, all roads out of Paris were clogged, vehicles were abandoned when they ran out of fuel, thousands of people slept rough in barns and fields, there was no news but many rumours which added to the sense of panic, it was chaos. Many were heading to the south or to the coasts, to try and get boats out or simply to stay with family or friends as far away from the Nazis as they could get, some had no clue where they were going, they just knew they had to leave.
Hitler put pressure on the Vichy government to round up all the German, Austrian and Czechoslovakian exiles, these people were now in grave danger, if they fell into the hands of the Gestapo they were imprisoned, sent to concentration camps or murdered by firing squads. Now thousands of French nationals also found themselves in danger, French artists, poets, writers and intellectuals were at particular risk, many of them were no longer in possession of the correct identity papers, trying to obtain the correct papers could result in arrest, they were aware they were on Hitler's list, many of them headed South to Marseilles where they shrank into the shadows, stayed in shabby back street hotels and met up with each other at the cafés, always looking over their shoulders. They were now people without a state or a homeland, they had become in effect refugees. They needed a way out.
Film Still from Casablanca
A Real Rick, Varian Fry
Meanwhile in New York 'The Emergency Rescue Committee' had been set up, they had compiled a list of around 200 artists, writers and intellectuals who they considered to be at risk in occupied Europe, the list included Picasso, Matisse, Chagall, Andre Breton, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp, the objective was to help them to escape.
Havard graduate and political activist Varian Fry was the man who was chosen to go to Vichy France to set up an organisation to help people escape, in fact he was the perfect choice, he was a man with a strong social conscience, he was an intellectual who had studied the classics and he spoke French and German. He arrived in Marseilles on August 14th 1940 with a suitcase, sleeping bag and air mattress, $3000 taped to his leg and a list of around 200 names. His return flight to New York had been booked for August 29th. He had around two weeks to get the job done!
Varian Fry, Andre Breton, Andre Masson, Jacqueline Lamba and Max Ernst at the CAS office.
Fry set up his organisation which he named: CENTRE AMERICAN DE SECOURS, 'CAS'. The Tom tom drums had been beating and word got out on the refugee grapevine, that a man had been sent from America to help, he soon had a long line of people queuing outside his hotel room, it was not long before he had to find an office and trustworthy staff.
Eventually he cobbled together an excellent team including a young American art student who had formerly been studying at the Sorbonne, Miriam Davenport. Varian desperately needed more funding, help soon came from the beautiful, thrill seeking American heiress, Mary Jayne Gold. Mary Jayne rented Villa Air-Bel, just outside Marseille, it became a home to CAS staff and some of the refugees (CAS clients), artists and intellectuals came to visit, there were parties and auctions, which all helped fund the clients escapes and keep up morale.
Andre Breton and Jacqueline Lamba fooling around at the Villa Air-Bel, just outside Marseilles. Breton was convinced that all the surrealists must defy the spirit of Fascism "by singing and laughing with the greatest joy"
Even the Nazis could not stand in the way of creativity, whilst waiting at the Villa Air-Bel for various visas, Andre Breton had the idea of producing a collective work of art, they would invent a new deck of cards, known as 'Le Jeu de Marseille'. The original drawings were preserved and eventually came to Andre Breton's daughter Aube, she donated them to the Musee Cantini in Marseilles, where they are on display to this day.
Max Ernst the Surrealist painter was one of the many artists imprisoned by the French in 1939 for being a German national, he was at this time living with his British lover, fellow surrealist painter Leonora Carrington, in a small French village in the south of France. With the help of Paul Eluard and the intervention of Varian Fry he was eventually released, only to be arrested again a few weeks later by the Gestapo, he managed to escape and once again helped by Varian Fry, escaped to America, with Peggy Guggenheim.
Leonora Carrington, distraught at Max's initial arrest by the French was persuaded by friends to leave France. She escaped over the Pyrenees into Spain, where she suffered a breakdown at the British embassy in Madrid. She was institutionalised in Santander where she received shock and drug therapy. Her wealthy parents intervened and sent someone to secure her release (Leonora claimed it was her old nanny) Leonora was convinced her parents would send her to a mental institution in South Africa or one of the colonies, one day she persuaded the nanny to take her shopping and managed to run away, she sought refuge at the Mexican embassy, eventually she managed to get to Lisbon, where she bumped into Max Ernst and Peggy Guggenheim who were waiting to leave for America. Leonora and Max had both been through too much to rekindle their relationship. Max went on to marry Peggy. Following the escape to Lisbon, Leonora arranged passage out of Europe with Renato Leduc, a Mexican diplomat and poet who was a friend of Picasso and who had agreed to marry Leonora as part of the travel
arrangements to help her. Leonora eventually found sanctuary in Mexico and went on to become one of Mexico's leading artists.
Max Ernst speaking to immigration authorities at Ellis Island, Peggy Guggenheim looks on, July 14th, 1941
A few of the people Varian Fry helped...
"Artists in Exile", Peggy Guggenheim's
apartment, New York, 1942. Front row: Stanley William Hayter, Leonara
Carrington, Frederick Kiesler, Kurt Seligmann. Second Row: Max Ernst,
Amedee Ozenfant, Andre Breton, Fernand Leger, Berenice Abbott. Third
Row: Jimmy Ernst, Peggy Guggenheim, John Ferren, Marcel Duchamp, Piet
Mondrian. Photograph: The Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania.
The situation was becoming increasingly risky for Fry and his clients. Obtaining exit visas for people was becoming impossible legally, the only way to get things done was to go down the illegal route, much to the chagrin of the American consulate and the Vichy government. Fry became a thorn in their sides and they conspired together to do something about him (America was still neutral at this point). He had his passport confiscated and was told it would only be returned on the condition that he left Vichy France and returned to America. He now knew what it felt like to be a refugee, his hand was forced, on 6th September 1941, almost thirteen months after his arrival in Vichy France, Fry boarded the train in Cerbere and embarked on the long journey back to America following in the footsteps of all those he had helped to escape.
CAS continued to operate but went completely underground, it's staff were now part of the resistance.
Over a period of one and a half years twenty thousand refugees had approached CAS for help, stretching his mandate as much as he dared Fry had extended the protection of CAS to more than four thousand people. Cas had given direct financial support to six hundred refugees. It had helped fifteen hundred people to leave France both legally and illegally. It had also assisted in one manner or another in the evacuation of about three hundred British officers and soldiers. CAS had set up a dozen communities around Grasse as well as woodcutting and charcoal burning enterprises in the Var forest that gave refugees not only employment but also a place to hide. From 1942 unbtil the end of the war, the clandestine CAS was able to facilitate the escape from France of another three hundred people.
Excert from Villa Air-Bel
Further reading...
(French Edition)
A Quiet American, The Secret war of Varian Fry, Andy Marino
Books seem to be a very hot topic of conversation at the moment in the blogosphere and round the dinner table, the main issue seems to be books versus kindle or other forms of E books, personally I am definitely in the book camp however I do see the benefits of kindles and E books. Let's face it carrying around one smallish piece of technology, with downloadable access to thousands of titles is preferable to lugging round heavy books, E Books are also beneficial to the environment cutting down on paper and distribution, I recently saw a news report regarding Africa, where for the first time children in remote villages, are now able to access text books and titles, previously unavailable to them, thanks to the internet, E Books and kindles, thus radically improving their education and ensuring a brighter future for themselves and their communities.
Despite all this I still cannot bring myself to even think about purchasing a Kindle, I love books, not just the words contained between the pages but the books themselves, new books, old books, ancient books, paperbacks, hardbacks and coffee table books, I love the way they smell, I love reading the covers and leafing through the pages, I lovingly slot them onto shelves or place them on tables, desks and sideboards, I even have a small library in the loo! After reading, they will often be revisited, consulted for reference and shared with family and friends.
And what about the high-street bookshops and library's? apparently bookshops both independents and chains are struggling to compete with the might of Amazon and their ilk and library memberships are in decline, library's across the globe are closing. Living in deepest France, with no immediate access to English books, I rely on Amazon for my book hit, and despite,'wish lists, access to reviews, people who purchased this title also bought that title, you may also like this, personal profiling and recommendations', there is still nothing to equal browsing round a really good bookshop or library.
Are we really the last generation, who will clamour after tangible books? Will future generations regard paper books as antiquated dust gatherers? Watching news coverage of children who queued overnight outside bookshops to get their hands on the latest Harry Potter book, I would like to think not, I saw the delight on their faces, when they got their hands on those books, would a downloadable E book create the same excitement?
And what about the authors themselves? Will self publishing and E Books cut out the need for publishers and herald the demise of the professional writer? I hope not.
Progress cannot be stopped, the digital age is here to stay and even though there are many practical benefits for the Kindle and E books, I hope books as we know them, will be around for centuries to come, I would like to think that the world has room for both.
I dedicate this post to my friend Kathy who sent me a link this morning, which triggered this post. It's a fascinating article and a little scary, if you have a few moments follow the link and read it, I would love to hear your thoughts: click here
Apologies for bringing you another favourite film post so soon after the last but as I have recently watched 'Bonjour Tristesse' I wanted to post about it whist it was still fresh in my mind.
Bonjour Tristesse produced and directed by Otto Preminger in 1957, adapted from Françoise Sagans novel, published in 1954, written when she was 18, became an overnight sensation.
Cécile (Jean Seberg), is a spoilt, precocious seventeen year old living with her wealthy, Parisian, bourgeois, widower father, Raymond (David Niven), the two adore each other, however Raymond is a charming, somewhat shallow playboy, who does not take anything too seriously, rather than discipline Cecile he has sucked her into his superficial world.
Cecile and Raymond are holidaying in the South of France, with Raymond's current playmate Elsa Mackenbourg (Mylene Demongeot) and are all having a very jolly time. Raymond receives a letter from his deceased wife's best friend Anne Larson (Deborah Kerr) a sophisticated, coolly beautiful Paris fashion designer, saying she is coming to stay, Raymond remembers at the last minute that he had invited her and rushes off to the station with Elsa to meet her, Anne turns up by car, with only Cecile to greet her, she is rather shocked to discover that Elsa is also staying. And thinks about leaving.
Meanwhile Cecile has found romance with a young man called Philippe (Geoffrey Horne), whom she is contemplating losing her virginity with.
Anne decides not to leave and joins in with holiday frolics, it soon become apparent to Cecile and Elsa, that Raymond has set his sights on Anne and is going all out to seduce her, culminating in his leaving Elsa and Cecile at the local Casino and driving off into the night with Anne.
The next morning, over breakfast Raymond and Anne announce their engagement to Cecile, at first Cecile is happy for them, she respects and admires Anne. The viewer at this point senses that both Raymond and Cecile want some kind of stability and depth in their lives, which the sensible, down to earth Anne can provide.
However after Anne catches Cecile and Phillipe, in a passionate embrace down at the beach hut, things take a turn for the worse, Anne tries to be a Mother to Cecile and treats her like a child, trying to instil some discipline into her, Cecile resents this and then hatches a plot to drive Raymond and Anne apart...
I first saw this film when I was around seventeen and as I was a bit of wild child I was firmly behind Cecile, now I have watched it years later, my opinions have changed, although I understand Cecile, I am rooting for Anne, I just wish she had handled things a little differently.
The film was slated by the critics of the day and still is to a certain extent, the New York Times review of the film was particularly scathing, Jean Seberg particularly came under attack:
"the actors seem incompetent or uncomfortable in his role. Jean Seberg as the centre of attention is a well-shaped but callow girl who reads her lines and takes her positions as if she were a misplaced amateur. David Niven is vapid as the father, with some thoroughly wretched things to say and do, and Deborah Kerr is in dire straits as the woman—the chic Parisian—who is beaten by a child."
I do not agree with this at all, the critic obviously hated the story, to me he has simply described the actors playing their roles.
It has not stopped this film becoming a cult classic and it's not surprising, this film like the last one I reviewed starts with the Parisian scenes shot beautifully in black and white and then for the South of France it's shot in glorious technicolour (The Wizard of Oz has a lot to answer for, I am not sure, was this the first film to employ this technique?) The locations are to die for and the wardrobe department excelled themselves, the fifties fashions are glorious, all people who love fifties vintage need to see this film, even MG, who normally only notices cars in the films I make him watch, commented on how great the clothes were, it's all quite gloriously kitch, David Niven looks very camp in some shots and the knotted shirts had us giggling with pleasure. The film is a joy and I for one love it!
Whilst doing this post I researched Françoise Sagan, the girl who wrote the story at the tender age of 18. I cannot help but wonder after reading about her, was this autobiographical, or was it fiction? Perhaps a bit of both. I do see a lot of parallels...
Françoise Sagan and Jean Seberg, on location, shooting the film
Sagan was born in Cajarc (Lot) and spent her early childhood in Lot, surrounded by animals, a passion that stayed with her throughout her life. Nicknamed 'Kiki', she was the spoilt youngest child of bourgeois parents - her father a company director, and her mother the daughter of landowners. Her family spent the war in the Dauphiné, then in the Vercors. She failed the entrance examinations to the Sorbonne in 1953. Though notorious all her life for her extravagant lifestyle, she would later attend school there but without graduating.
Her first novel, Bonjour Tristesse (Hello Sadness), was published in 1954, when she was 18 years old, and it was an immediate international success. It concerns the life of pleasure-driven 17-year-old Cécile, in particular her relationship with her boyfriend and her adulterous, playboy father. The novel allegedly influenced the Simon and Garfunkel song "The Sounds of Silence," the first words of which, "Hello darkness", echo Sagan's title Her pseudonym was taken from a character ("Princesse de Sagan") in Marcel Proust's A la recherche du temps perdu (In search of lost time).
Sagan's characters became something of an icon for disillusioned teenagers, in some ways similar to those of J.D. Salinger. During a literary career lasting until 1998, she produced dozens of works, many of which have been filmed. She maintained the austere style of the French psychological novel even while the nouveau roman was in vogue. The conversations between her characters are often considered to contain existential undertones. In addition to novels, plays, and autobiography, she wrote song lyrics and screenplays.
In the 1960s, Sagan became more devoted to writing plays, which, though lauded for excellent dialogue, were only moderately successful. Afterward, she concentrated on her career as a novelist.
Sagan was married twice: to Guy Schoeller (married 13 March 1958, an editor with Hachette, 20 years older than Sagan, divorced June 1960) and to Bob Westhof (a young American playboy and would-be ceramicist, married 10 January 1962, divorced 1963; their son Denis was born in June 1963). She took a lesbian long-term lover, fashion stylist Peggy Roche, and had a male lover, Bernard Frank, a married essayist obsessed with reading and eating. She added to her self-styled "family" by beginning a long-term lesbian affair with the French Playboy magazine editor Annick Geille, after she approached Sagan for an article for her magazine.
Fond of traveling in the United States, she was often seen with Truman Capote and Ava Gardner. On 14 April 1957, while driving her Aston-Martin sports car, she was involved in an accident that left her in a coma for some time. She also loved driving her Jaguar automobile to Monte Carlo to gambling sessions.
In the 1990s Sagan was charged with and convicted of possession of cocaine.
At various times of her life, Sagan was addicted to a number of drugs. She was a long-term user of prescription pills, amphetamines, cocaine, morphine, and alcohol. When the police came for an inspection of her house, her dog Banko showed cocaine to them and also licked the cocaine. Sagan told the police, "Look! he likes it too."
Her health was reported to be poor in the 2000s. In 2002 she was unable to appear at a trial that convicted her of tax fraud in a case involving the former French President François Mitterrand, and she received a suspended sentence. Françoise Sagan died of a pulmonary embolism in Honfleur, Calvados, on 24 September 2004 at the age of 69. At her own request she was buried at her beloved birthplace, Cajarc.
In his memorial statement, the French President Jacques Chirac said: "With her death, France loses one of its most brilliant and sensitive writers - an eminent figure of our literary life."
The book and the film are available here and here.
The wonderful opening scenes featuring Juliette Greco