La bonne humeur par la peinture

C’est typiquement le genre d’initiative qui me met de très très bonne humeur. Du coup je vais me lancer à la recherche d’actions similaires à Paris ! Bouap !

leur site somersethouse.org.uk dit :
“23 April – 3 May 2010 (This event has passed).

Somerset House presented Pick Me Up, the first contemporary graphic art fair in the UK. The fair brought together the most exciting graphic artists working today, providing opportunities to buy limited edition, affordable graphic art, illustration and design.
A lively programme of events and activities accompanied the fair, including an open studio from legendary paper artist Rob Ryan.”

The circle of life within life

It’s funny how things seems to evolve a lot and then you realize all of a sudden you are back at the same point.

Take me, for example. Four years ago, I started my first job in The City (London) in a new office, new industry and new skills… Since then I worked two years there, decided to change job, industry and continent and arrived in Africa. Learned new skills, in a new industry, in a new world. After that, I decided to go back to my first loves, back to Paris, start my business in yet a new industry.

One might the position I am in today say it’s completely different than the one our years ago.

Well it’s not. And the reason is named: Carmelia. I am back at the same spot because I just bought a plant for my new desk and I named it Carmelia…

Carmelia next to my desk in Paris

Well this reminds me of something I wrote more than 2 yeard ago.

Man With Plan Gives Girl a Ring

Wednesday: an instant chat window opens of my dull screen. Ta-Da! A small sentence for the big news. You know what? What? I got engaged, says Marc. Who’s Marc?

Meet Marc, my best friend. Fifty-fifty: Frog and Roast beef. Marc the spark. A jolly kid, a lively boy, a thoughtful one. We were so young, I can’t remember the first time we met. He loved everything and everyone, except for fresh tomatoes. He’s become a big man since then. A hundred and sixty pounds of souvenirs together, from the beaches of Normandy to the campuses of New York City through our many years at school. Yes, a long time friendship.

Marc, meet Antonia. An Italian. She’s The girl. His wife to be. Long black curly hair, freckles on the cheek, tanned skin and savoury accent. He looks deep into her eyes and falls in love like a big juicy tomato in the shopping basket of a hungry Mama ready to cook lunch. Tasty. Yes dear. She’s solar. Latin. Impetuously flamboyant. Like a ray of light straight through his life.

If you ask me they’re a nice couple. The Sun and the Tomato, put them together, wait for a little, and you get sun dried tomatoes.

He told me he bought her a ring. I am more than happy for them. It’s more than this. Last year they bought cats together. This year they bought a house together. This time they bought a lifetime together.

Other’s Words – Les mots des autres

French poem from Louis Aragon; Post dedicated to my favorite lady who sent me this text.

(Sorry for non-French speakers, a translation would only restrain the quality of the text.)

Les rendez-vous

Tu m’as quitté par toutes les portes
Tu m’as laissé dans tous les déserts

Je t’ai cherchée à l’aube et je t’ai perdue à midi
Tu n’étais nulle part où j’arrive
Qui saurait dire le Sahara d’une chambre sans toi
La foule d’un dimanche où rien ne te ressemble
Un jour plus vide que vers la mer la jetée
Le silence où j’appelle et tu ne réponds pas

Tu m’as quitté présente immobile
Tu m’as quitté partout tu m’as quitté des yeux
Du cœur des songes
Tu m’as quitté comme une phrase inachevée
Un objet par hasard une chose une chaise
Une villégiature à la fin de l’été
Une carte postale dans un tiroir
Je suis tombé de toi toute la vie au moindre geste

Tu ne m’as jamais vu pleurer pour ta tête détournée
Ton regard au diable de moi
Un soupir dont j’étais absent
As-tu eu jamais pitié de ton ombre à tes pieds

Louis Aragon, Les Adieux

Birthday Boy

Last week was my birthday.

Last year, my colleagues had forgotten to wish me a happy one. I had reminded them numerous times how unfriendly they were of not having given me a birthday card.

That’s what I got this year.

Note that Michael sent this to me, he is 26 and in theory mentally fully functional.

Wheelie, won’t ya? (And the chocolate factory)

So before I leave the country, a friend of mine tells me book your Sunday and don’t forget to bring boots that protect your ankles and a leather jacket. Originaly I thought he was going to invite me to some motorcycle thing, may be go gart, but then he told me it was from 9am to 3pm on an aerodrome.

So yes it was a wheelie school, really fun – No, I’m not a motorcycle adict – and one day was enough. We did manage in the end to do a few runs of 60m or so.

You’ve seen the picture, that’s the video:

Money and a Ring

Friday was my last day at work. The local director left without saying goodbye or thanking me for the two years of good work I had done for him – not that I expected him to anyway. But the party was even better, I received a few leaving cards, a goodbye speech, and two farewell gifts: money and a ring.

I had seen the ring when looking for secret santa gifts to offer, and had never forgotten it since then. It is tacky and chessy, and love it all the way. (and no I am not a father, why do people always ask?)

Last working day

Time flies. Here I am, last day at work, 5 days before leaving London. I have been systematically throwing away, selling or giving out all my unnecessary positions. Yesterday I sold my reliable iron horse, my black scooter, and I am now a pedestrian, forced to suffer the worst subway system in Europe. I am looking forward to my farewell speech, my leaving drinks, the goodbye party and the farewell presents. The next few days are going to be very busy, filled with goodbyes and repetitive conversation about where I’m going, why and for how long.

I still can’t believe it’s me that’s leaving.

“I’m sorry; did I forget to mention you HAVE to move out in three days?”

Yes. I’m on holiday, and despite the fact that we told our ‘landlord’ – or rather the guy who owns the house and rents it, aka “lord of postponing essential things such as fixing the heating, the shower and other things that constitute modern comfort “ – that we would move out on the 6th, he decided to rent the house on the 1st. I’m still on holiday until the 2nd. Yes. Thankfully my girlfriend cannot afford to go on holiday because of the lousy company she works for, so she will be able to pack all our things and move them to her godmother’s house until she can find another room to rent.

Betting on dog racing

Walthamstow dog racing from damien.ldp on Vimeo.

Before my final days in the company – and in London – my colleagues and I wanted to have a night out at ‘the dogs’.