Monday, February 11, 2013

Those Crazy Bohemians (Unsung hero: Pére Tanguy)

If I asked  a large number of people to raise their hands if they knew what Impressionism was, I'm willing to wager that a fair number of them would do so. A decent amount would still keep their hands up if I asked how many could name at least one Impressionist by last name.

But if I asked how many could keep their hands raised by naming the man who made it possible for many of these great artists to keep painting, I am pretty darn sure that almost all of the hands would go down. Unsung heroes tend to become an "unknown" very quickly. Which probably is why they're called unsung, right?


Portrait of Pére Tanguy by Vincent van Gogh

Julien Tanguy was one such hero. He was so important to these bohemian painters that they even nicknamed him "Pére" Tanguy (pére meaning father). He owned an art supply shop in Montmartre, and was looked up to as a true rebel with a cause: he had spent some time in prison for his political beliefs. This, of course, endeared him to the free-thinking bohemian artists.

He had opened his art supply store in 1870. Pére was heavily involved in the Paris Commune that ruled Paris for two short months in 1871.  During La Semaine Sanglante (The Bloody Week) estimates vary from 6,000 to 50,000 as to the number of men, women, and children killed when the government troops stepped in and forced the Paris Commune out of power. Pére avoided execution and somehow was not kept forever in jail, but he made sure he stayed in the more rural, bohemian area of Montmartre as a precaution.

Besides, that is where all the excitement was happening in the art world. Pére also began to show Van Gogh's paintings (but never sold one). Soon he also had many works by Monet, Sisley, Gauguin, Seurat and Cézanne. As prized as a Cézanne painting would become later, he was very much considered a "painter's painter" and didn't sell well during his lifetime, either. In fact, from 1877 to 1893 the only place where one would find a Cézanne in the whole city was in Tanguy's art supply store.

So, why was he so important to these bohemian artists of nineteenth century? Well, ignore the fact that he showed their work and tried to build an audience for them and consider this: most of those artists were dirt poor. Many days they didn't eat. That also means they had no money for canvas and paint. Without canvas and paint, the paintings that we now prize from that era would have never been created.

They certainly were created, though, thanks to "Pére Tanguy. You see, Pére let them buy paint and canvas on credit. No, he didn't change them interest or high prices. He simply gave them what they needed with only a verbal promise to pay him whenever they could. He had to have known full well that many of those supplies would never be paid for, yet he continued to honor the artist's verbal agreements.

One could call him a fool. I'm betting his wife often did. It isn't hard to see why some would call him that. It isn't a very smart way to run a business, and Pére was not wealthy. He wasn't even close to middle-class. What he was, though, was a believer in the talent of outrageously new thinking artists, who had the nerve to show people the world in brand new ways. When you consider that, it isn't hard to see why an anarchist would have a tender spot for these crazy bohemian painters who always promised, seldom paid, but always hoped to.

Promise and hope. Without it, the world is a much colder place. With it, great things can happen. The art world saw painting change forever in great ways - thanks to an unsung hero. "Pére"? Oh, oui, indeed he was like their father. They didn't disappoint. His "children" did him proud.


Portrait of Pére Tanguy by Vincent van Gogh

Sunday, January 27, 2013

GUEST POST: Author Victoria King-Voreadi

Today I am taking a little break away from those crazy bohemians to present an author that I think you might enjoy. After all, who can resist reading about someone brave enough to tango with the grim reaper? I am impressed with Victoria’s dedication and determination to make another person’s dream come true. Interrogation Tango sounds like a great story to get lost in.  I hope you read it and let me know how you liked it.
 
Without further ado please let me present Victoria King-Volreadi!

 
“The Grim Reaper and Me”
A fable for the young at heart…
It may seem a morbid title for a guest blog (my apologies Caddy) but there is a method to my madness.
I’ve reached that golden age where one’s mentors begin slipping away.   Suddenly you realize you are in the midst of a great void that somehow you are expected to fill!  No one tells you that is what you are supposed to do – you simply feel it, a deep rooted sense of duty to art and memory.
You immediately feel small and inadequate.  The task seems huge and daunting.  How can you possibly do justice to the work!?
When Jovi Starc sent me her manuscript… she was in perfect health.  She felt blocked because she was too close to her material and was looking for a fresh perspective.  She was a vivacious 58 year-old who didn’t smoke and didn’t drink.  She ate right and did an hour of Thai Chi each morning.  How could either of us possibly imagine that one year later to the day she would be gone?
Just like that, from one moment to the next.
When her mother entreated me to pursue the realization of her daughter’s creative works I was initially so intimidated.  I was also touched and honored.  I pondered the rough material my friend had left behind, her incisive yet tender observations.  In the end I acquiesced and am gradually trying to develop her projects because it is simply a shame for them not to be shared.
Donald was a different story: Bi-polar with chronic asthma.  We had been pen-pals and collaborators for quite some time, but patience was not among his virtues.  He was losing stamina and his long standing health issues were getting the better of him.  He had claimed to be “dying” ever since I had first met him, but he kept coming out of the corner with his gloves up so I never really imagined him as ill.
The first time I heard about Interrogation Tango it was an 80 page script called “Firewater”.  Don was incredibly frustrated because he could “see” it in his head, but was getting no interest from producers.  I suggested he develop it into a novel, a way to help others see his vision.  He complained but didn’t argue.  He had twelve pages that with a lot of prodding became 50.  That was when (unbeknownst to me) Don started submitting it to agents.
When Peter Riva at International Transactions called Don’s bluff, of course he couldn’t admit he only had 50 pages so he simply yanked all the tag lines and scene directions out of the screen play and tacked that mess onto the first 50.
Luckily Peter had enough imagination to sense the potential behind the chaos.  I knew how important it was to Don so I agreed to try and edit it into something that made sense.  Don wrote brilliant dialogue but it was all his voice, somehow I had to develop and differentiate the characters. 
It took a couple of weeks just to clean it up enough where it was possible to follow who was saying what.  The story had a lot of gaps, some immense.  Just to complicate things a bit more Don had no phone and his only net access was during New York Public Library business hours so there was a constant 24hour time delay in all our correspondence.
When Don insisted we resubmit the rough draft I knew it still needed serious work, and I told Peter that in a side e-mail.  His response was, “Solid start, you’ve still got my interest so get to work on the re-write.”  Donald was devastated.  That was June 2010.  What I didn’t know was that this time he really was dying.  He had been diagnosed with colon cancer but had refused surgery and been given 6-18 months to live. 
Don was 74, and tired, He wrote me, “Puss, you are going to have to take it from here.”  I tried to encourage him to work on something else while I developed the Elser story with Peter’s guidance.  He dredged up an ancient manuscript he had started when he was still in advertising and actually seemed to be enjoying the departure from his obsession.
Don managed to hang on 26 months.  The last e-mail I sent him in the wee hours of August 20th 2012 read, “Baby this is it, I just returned the final check of the manuscript, and tomorrow we go to into production.  We did it!” but he never saw it.  Donald Schwarz passed away alone in his apartment on August 20th 2012, just a few weeks before the book was released.
So, here I sit surrounded by the cultural legacy of two very unique individuals.  Their manuscripts rest patiently on my shelf while I try to muster the strength and the time to change my role of guardian for that of the midwife, to deliver what they set out to do but were interrupted by death.  I can’t help but wonder if I am up to the challenge, and worthy of the responsibility.

 
 
Interrogation Tango is an anti-detective story, based on real events and people, about an assassin who drove the Gestapo crazy because they could not explain him away. A non-descript clock maker named Georg Elser thought it would be a good idea to stop the onset of WWII. He thought he might be able to do that if he could kill Hitler and all of his entourage and, because he was sincerely looking for an opportunity, he found one. He placed a bomb in a beer hall where the Fuhrer was scheduled to give a speech. It was a good honest try and it went wrong only by minutes. Elser was caught by a series of accidents and, when his family was threatened, he immediately confessed. There was only one problem: his confession was unacceptable. The police had assassin profiles then as they do now and he fit none of them. In fact, it was obvious to the police that he was not a criminal. Besides which, politics demanded that the attempt could not be perpetrated by one of Hitler's faithful, adoring citizens; it had to be a British conspiracy. However, there was no conspiracy and the cops were afraid to invent one, since in the event that there was a real conspiracy, an invented one would look like a cover-up. Interrogation Tango is the policemen's story: the detectives Elser destroyed and the Gestapo men he drove crazy, followed by chaos and a body count. Buy links are below:
 
 
 
Author Bio:
 
 Victoria lives near the city of Heraklion on the island of Crete in Greece with her husband and her two beautiful daughters. A freelance writer and translator in Greece since 1992 she has received two screenwriting grants from the EEU Media Programme for both original and commissioned feature scripts and has worked on local and foreign film and documentary productions. Victoria met her co-author Donald E. Schwarz in 1994 while visiting New York and the two immediately struck up a creative partnership. Social media links for Victoria: :Twitter Facebook Linked In







 

 



Monday, January 14, 2013

Those Crazy Bohemians (Le Chat Noir)



It's been awhile, but I am back to my "Crazy Bohemians" theme. Although I love to blog, writing novels and painting take up most of my time. It's amazing how quickly time passes before I realize that I've let my blog go!

Here are a couple of questions for you: Do you know where stand-up comedy got its start? How about the very first flickering in the brain about making movies? No? Well, I can tell you where. So could any of those crazy bohemians of nineteenth century Paris!

The answer would be Le Chat Noir. What does a "black cat" have to do with comedy and movies? Nothing - and yet everything. You see, Le Chat Noir is French for The Black Cat. Le Chat Noir was a cabaret in Montmartre that fanned the flames of creativity that had been lit earlier, taking plays, music, painting, and acting to new heights that, until then, people hadn't even dreamt about.

Emile Goudeau, a journalist in Paris, had a group of writers and artists that met at his home on the Left Bank. They were called Les Hydropathes ("those who are afraid of water"). Young men, they did indeed prefer cheap wine and beer-in great quantities-to plain old H2O. They were, however, outgrowing Goudeau's home. Rodolphe Salis, an artist who came from money, had acquired a two room building which he had turned into a cabaret. He knew Goudeau and persuaded him to move Les Hydropathes to his cabaret in Montmartre. Salis himself had been entertaining artists in his home prior to opening the cabaret.

On November 18, 1881. a torch lit procession crossed the River Seine from the Left Bank and made it's way to Le Chat Noir. A man dressed in full Swiss Guard regalia headed up the parade, carrying a halberd (battle ax and pike). Behind him marched a large group of very drunk, very loud young men; carrying wine and singing. This signaled the grand opening of Le Chat Noir.

When patrons avoided the darker room in the back, Salis casually made sure he mentioned within earshot of several artists that the back room was reserved for the truly cutting edge creative types. All of a sudden he had no problem trying to get people to gather in there! Le Chat Noir was an open stage most nights. Musicians, singers, poets, and writers would just get on their feet and present their current work. They were never paid. They were, however, critiqued by their peers, always loudly and sometimes harshly. However, they were also encouraged and nurtured, with many becoming great talents. Artists also brought their paintings for critique. Loud arguments about painting often followed.

The place was decorated with a hodge-podge of things, mostly giving it a Louis XIII feel. Salis himself was gifted in promotion. He started a newspaper Le Chat Noir and sold advertising in it. Writers also wrote stories for it. Some were very avant garde.
 Le Chat Noir Journal

He did everything he could to publicize his cabaret. Many accused him of making money off the artists who only received wine and absinthe as payment. One time he met patrons at the door only to announce his death! He then led a funeral procession through the streets, ending up back at Le Chat Noir.

Salis hired Steinlen to design posters and a sign for the cabaret. Salis had seen a black alley cat hanging around during the renovation and felt the raggedy feline made a good symbol for the wild nightlife that would be found at the place. One of the resulting posters by Steinlen remains one of the most well know images to come out of that era in Paris (of which Montmartre was, and is, part of). Some even said that when the cat's tail was shown in an upright position  on the Journal or in ads it symbolized a male in the "aroused position".
Théophile Steinlen's 1896 advertisement for a tour to other cities ("coming soon") of the Le Chat Noir's troupe of cabaret entertainers

Because of the open stage, and the dialog between a performer and the audience, stand-up comedy was born. Much of the comedy, and almost all of the songs, was politically radical and/or raunchy. Everyone who was anyone in the arts community was seen at this lively cabaret.

Soon the bourgeoisie and many gentry started coming to Le Chat Noir on a lark. Salis and cabaret singer Aristide Bruand became known for being loudly rude to their upper-class guests, banishing them into a dark corner if they came late. If they left during a performance? They were called out and loudly insulted! The songs didn't change, and many found themselves the subject of amusement or derision. Still, they came - because Le Chat Noir was the place to be seen. Salis moved the cabaret twice more while it was operating, to accommodate the growing throngs.


Shadow plays were created by using zinc to cut out characters and then shining light on them to reflect shadows on a white screen.  These shadow plays were insanely popular with all classes and soon scripts were written and music accompanied the plays. This, then, was the rough beginning of cinema.

In 1897, shortly after Salis' death, Le Chat Noir closed. When Picasso and others looked for it when they arrived for the Exposition in 1900, they were greatly disappointed to find out that it had ceased to exist. They had missed out on perhaps the most popular artist's cabaret to ever exist.


Ad for Le Chat Noir

Thank you for joining me today to learn more about those crazy bohemains. I promise I'll be back with more soon!

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Fourth Book in The Gastien Series and New Painting Photos

Happy 2013 to all of you! I hope this year brings you closer to realizing all of your hopes and dreams, with many coming true. I have been so busy that I forgot to announce the release on my fourth book in "The Gastien Series" here on my blog!

Also, a lot of people had been asking me when I was going to get some of my painting up on a website.  Well, I haven't designed a speicific website fo them, but I did add tabs to the top of this page where you can view some of my paintings.  Just click on the various "Makin' Love to the Color" tabs to see my work in various styles.  I hope you enjoy them.

And, now, introducing the newest book in "The Gastien Series" :


Europe is full of dark memories. Giselle's love is forbidden; her chance to be a mother destroyed. She flees to America where she becomes the haute couture fashion designer to the wealthy, high-society Grand Dames of New York. After all, she had been mentored in Paris by the legendary Charles Worth himself.

Giselle's past remains cloaked in shadows, increasing her allure. Her heart is engaged by a man who comes to her only in secrecy, drawing her back to her mysterious past.

When her brother dies and his wife abandons their child, she takes on the care of her infant nephew. Giselle decides she has to stop and take stock of her life. She has been given her one chance to be a mother, but the cost will be the end of the few moments she can still have with her one true love.

Yet love is not easily destroyed for those who are strong enough to survive its pain.

Sign up for New Release Email: http://eepurl.com/rfjaX

Buy links:

http://tinyurl.com/aq6nnlxFor Kindle readers

http://tinyurl.com/bbbud5sFor NOOK readers

http://tinyurl.com/a6r4eyfFor kobo readers

http://tinyurl.com/a55svxeTo order paperback
 
Thank you. Next blog we will be getting back to Those Crazy Bohemains...unless something else starts tapping at my brain!

Friday, December 21, 2012

A New SIte That Matches You Up WIth Books!

I am so excited about this new site. It is the coolest book site ever. Here's how it works:

You go to www.bookmatchers.com and fill out your preferences for genre, types of characters, subplots/genres, etc and they show you which books are your best fits. Then you get a sample and buy links where you can go and read reviews, a bigger sample and purchase.

So far, they have over 550 books and 23 genres.

Seriously, you can't lose. It is free to use and easy, too!

While you're at it, give their facebook page a "like" if you would: http://www.facebook.com/BookMatchers

Their grand opening is this weekend, so any social media you can use to spread the word would be appreciated by Steve, the owner of the site.

If you tweet it, please use the hashtag #bookmatchers at the end of your tweets.

I don't have ownership in the site, but I am very excited about it's possibilities for both authors and readers. Will you please join me in helping Bookmatchers.com go viral?

Thank you and Happy Holidays!

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Growing Gideon (My Love Is Alive)


Today I am taking a break from my "Those Crazy Bohemian" series of blogs. Most of you know that we are grandparents by love to the child next door: Gideon. Most of you know that we are childless by choice and have never regretted it.  And, most of you were probably gobsmacked to find out that - not only are we crazy about the baby next door - I am babysitting weekday afternoons.  Yeah, I know. This crazy bohemian has gone mainstream...at least in this area.

I had babysat on Fridays last year, along with some evenings. This past September I started babysitting for them "full time". Since Gideon does not come over until 11:30, I can write in the mornings, and I also write while he naps in the afternoon.

There is something holy about babydom. Jen, Gideon's mother, calls him magical.  I have to agree. He has changed me (and I would also include Dave) in many ways; all for the good. I have loved deeply before in my life. But this? This love is so powerful, so mind blowing that my eyes fill with tears just watching him take his next breath. Everything he does is magic. Every breath he takes I thank God for. If something happened to him, I would never again be the same.  Not even close.

Since I had no younger brothers or sisters, I never got to watch a child develop on a day by day basis. This spring I pushed him in a stroller and watched as he saw flowers for the first time. Just imagine that. What does the mind think, that very first time our eyes see the intricate beauty of flowers? This fall he was no less impressed with the dried leaves, pods, and grasses.  He could touch them for who knows how long...I stopped and let him touch and wonder, but couldn't stay for as long as he could probably just process. All of a sudden I, too, could see the magic in a single blade of dried prairie grass.


He not only walks now, he runs.  And walks backward. And twirls. The past two weeks he has been walking on tip-toes, and quite proud of it, thank you very much. Every single day he learns something new, becomes a little more advanced. Yesterday he realized that the large Lego blocks didn't just fall apart, he could take them apart piece by piece after Gamma put them together. His brain knew that somehow they go back together. He pressed them together, wrong parts. Any day now it will click. The round part goes into the part where there is emptiness.

He talks, too. No sentences or phrases, but words. More words all of the time. At fourteen months, he is a virtual learning machine. He no longer wants to sit on the floor and play with toys where you press levers. Now it is all about action, about walking, running, being chased, hiding. Balls are a big hit. Of course, when not feeling well (new teeth, cold, etc) he will revert back to less ambitious playing, but that's okay.  It is nice to go back six months every once in awhile, although I would much rather he felt good.

I am so honored to have this brand new person to the planet in my life. It is a privilege to care for him, protect him, and teach him.  I make sure to treat him with not only love, but dignity and respect. His soul will thrive in his body only if those who care for hm do so to the best of their abilities.

Yes, my love is alive. I have known love in many forms. The love I have for my husband is so deep, so timeless that I thought nothing could match it. Believing we have been together several lifetimes, I know we are always together. But this? This love for a child is just as profound, just as deep.

In short, Jen's right: it is magical.