Paris Becomes Walmart

Not sure if this is a recession related phenomenon, but it sure is a shift.

When you dream of running away and becoming an artist, that vision must include a cigarette, a beret and a friendly community of starving artists on the streets of Montmartre. Ah, Paris. The grungy center of the civilized universe, where I sat at a little cafe table sipping cafe au lait and watched the Parisian rats running along the cobblestones and under the sidewalk. It's beautiful with the kind of beauty that's real - even more beautiful because it's so imperfect. Part of its charm is its reputation as a haven for creativity.

But now souvenir shops set up near Montmartre are slicing into sales of art by Parisian artists. There are three hundred officially registered artists there - and they're competing with mass produced Chinese pictures that sell for a fraction of what they have to charge to make any money at all.

A BBC reporter asked the souvenir shops where the paintings came from, and it took a bit of persuading to get them to admit that yes, the paintings were from China. And some of them even touch them up themselves!

It's a tough economy. But buying rip off, assembly line art is a bad call on every level. Do you want your money to support a factory or an artist? Would you choose a bigger, bad piece of art over an exquisite small one simply because you have a lot of wall to cover? Do you want bad art in your life?

Thanks to Art News Blog for this one.

A Bit of a Bygone Era

This is a photo of a painting called The Dream Garden...done by Nathan Dolinsky of the grounds near his home in the Catskills.

I went there today. It doesn't look much like this anymore.

Imagine an enchanted cottage and gardens, tangled vines, crumbling walls and complete solitude. That would be what I found.


The house is for sale and has been for quite some time. HSO and I have dreamed about it since we first started looking for a house almost two years ago. It was way beyond our means and clearly needed a lot of work. But we kept looking for it. We just wanted to see it.

As part of my 'make this job fun' resolution, I decided to track down the house and the man who clearly loved it. It's going to make a far better story than I could ever have imagined. I found a gallery (Bantam Fine Arts, to whom I owe a thanks for this photo of The Dream Garden) and that led me to fascinating people and ideas that I think would make terrific books. Now that's fun.

I also arranged to get a tour of the house with the realtor who's listed it. HSO is ecstatic. And my daughter, who loves abandoned old houses as much as her mother does, was willing to go look for it with me today. Kind of an advance scouting trip.

HSO and I have tried in the past and failed. But I had better directions today and voila! Down a long, overgrown driveway, into a clearing we walked and I stopped in my tracks. There is magic there. The old iron gate hangs open, an invitation to explore the overgrown grounds and peek in grimy windows where carefree people in summer finery once gathered to hear concerts and sip tea. The stones in the painting lean precariously toward the ground but the ghosts of what once was still linger, whispering of happy children, adults who remembered how to play. Music and art, they say softly, were as thick there as the bees buzzing in the flowers.

I know very little about Nathan Dolinsky. But I know I would have liked him. And there's something about this house that remembers those easier times. I can't wait to get inside. More to come....