le sketch du jour: July 4th, 1980. Beaubourg, Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers, d’Estaing, some politics.

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Centre Georges Pompidou, former meat district, Paris.

The Pompidou Center was a brand new building designed by architects Renzo Piano (Italian, Milan)and Richard Rogers (British, Yale) in 1980 when I was in Paris. It was one of many projects by Valéry Giscard d’Estaing. The complex, an Art Museum, is in the Beaubourg area of the 4th arrondissement of Paris. It is near les halles (the former meat market area), rue montorgueil (where hip Parisians shop, eat, are seen…there’s a Monet painting of this street) and the Marais (first wealthy planned urban shopping and dwelling, Place des Vosges which was mentioned in sketchbook on July 1st. The goal of this museum is very egalitarian, to bring in everyone, even those who would never go to an art museum. This is so different than so many other museums in Paris where I would generalize to say that beyond the tourist, the visitor already feels some degree of appreciation of art.

First, a word about le Centre Georges Pompidou, aka Beauborg. If you really want the architect’s intellectual discussion, here ’tis. But bear with me, if you are working in the field of architecture or construction, it’s useless.

The Photo of my angle from internet.

It was innovative in having services such as staircases, lifts, electrical power conduits and water pipes on the outside, leaving the inside open and uncluttered.

an excerpt from journal notes from 4 July 1980.

 

As you can see, I saw Pompidou Center commonly called “Beaubourg”. It is pretty exciting-it looks like a “big erector set” as Michael (my teacher from NYC and Parsons) said.  It is exciting because it is so big, so high-tech, and so different for this city.  People seem to really enjoy it because the square & inside of the center were packed.  Inside was a photography exhibit, an exhibit of old train cars, tents, paintings, Duane Hanson (people in car) – I think it was “leisure activities,” a restaurant on the roof, a museum in the majority of theh building, and an escalator that takes you up through that clear tunnel to the top.  I did all, but none of the museum, and I was there for 2 1/2 hours.  

 

In the square were bagpipes, mimes, dancers, beggars, some religious group, and a man with chaings aound him that passed around a bucket for money.  There was also a belly dancer.  Definitely a must of things to do in Paris, but it does take a whole afternoon. 

And here’s some politics about France if anyone cares. 

Beaubourg was initiated under Pompidou, but under d’Estaing’s leadership was completed along with Valéry’s other far-reaching infrastructure projects, the TGV and the turn towards nuclear power as France’s main energy source. He suffered from the economic downturn from the ’73 energy crisis marking the end of the “30 glorious years after World War II.” Official discourse stated that the “end of the tunnel was near”.

A bit of background, he was a centre-right politician and liberal on social issues in the Catholic country of divorce, contraception, and abortion. He was opposed by Mitterand, of the newly-unified left, and from a rising Jacques Chirac who resurrected Gaullis (with whom d’Estaing had broken ranks) on a right-wing opposition line and was not re-elected after his tenure in ’81.  He supported the United States of Europe and the later EU.

One quote of his in particular, from an article he wrote for Le Monde[10] and published in that newspaper on 15 June 2007, that “public opinion will be led to adopt, without knowing it, the proposals we dare not present to them directly”, was consistently highlighted by “No” campaigners (anti EU) as evidence of d’Estaing’s alleged agenda to fool the European public into his proposals. While the quote is accurate, it was part of a critique, taken out of context, of a suggestion made by some unnamed persons. In truth, he went on to reject this course of action by saying, “This approach of ‘divide and ratify’ is clearly unacceptable. Perhaps it is a good exercise in presentation. But it would confirm to European citizens the notion that European construction is a procedure organised behind their backs by lawyers and diplomats.”

He was a a teacher in Montréal in ’48, graduated from École Polytechnique and the École national d’administration from ’49-’51, worked with the Tax and Revenue Service, joined staff of Prime Minister Faure in ’56, sec’y of Finance from ’59-’62, he supported the winning candidate Georges Pompidou and returned to the Ministry of Economy and Finance, and in ’74 at age 48, he was elected to President,In 1974, he was elected President of France at 48, the third youngest president in French history, after Louis Napoleon Bonaparte and Jean Casimir-Perioer. He promised “change in continuity”. He made clear his desire to introduce various reforms and modernise French society, which was an important part of his presidency.

And, he was an elegant, articulate man of economics, seemingly free of sexual scandal (a little minor diamond smuggling liaison accusation, but we have money issues in America, too). Pretty amazing for a French politician. 

 

Girls Night Out: Award Winning filmmaker, Chicago news journalist, and the Object of his Erec…

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They always start out so charming….and this was kind of cute…

Ms. Mann moving in for the low angle on man.....

But they’ve ALLLLways gotta take it too far, don’t they? 


Cannot be real and uneven tanningbedlines on the asscheeks...

By the end of his number, we all felt really bad for this probably nice guy for having to make a living this way. And the poor object of his affections had broken out in a cold sweat, not exactly what you’d call foreplay.

“It’s so degrading,” said the journalist.

Plus, I don’t think we tipped very well. Who wouldn’t be afraid to touch something so writhing and goatish?

I’m sure men feel the same sympathy for women working the stripper pole.

And by the way, if you ever travel to Canada on a sales trip, my brother-in-law says getting taken to the Strip Club is just part of closing the deal.

 

 

Toejam at Paddy O’Shay’s Sept 2nd, SMEast ’78, Harold Epstein.

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Harold Epstein, Musician. SMEast Class '78

I have a way of not getting to the main point, so here it is. Harold Epstein’s Band Toejam (or whatever etiquette is to indicate collective ownership of a group of musicians but Harold is who I know. When you google it he has all the important businessman titles: General Manager and Booking agent) is playing at Paddy O’Shay’s Labor Day Weekend.

  • So, what would anyone have to do that could possibly be better than seeing a committed creative of (40 years? …when did you start playing Harold?) in our class at East to celebrate that we’re 50ish and shouldn’t be laboring so hard?
  • Or, as I see it, play is indeed work and takes some effort.
  • So, get in the car (Julayne Ramsey is driving 600 miles from Minnesota…I’m not giving up on Eugene Bridges as he needs some fresh Kansas air being down there is smoky moutains all summer), hop on the plane, ride your bike on the bike path on I-435, whatever you have to do.  It should be fun.
  • I’ve heard there will be a former recluse or two from my neighborhood putting in an appearance.
  • Dave Wood (and Denise Gatzoulis) called me a month or so ago and at that time we committed to seeing Harold play next KC visit, so he motivated me. So, I’m hoping they’re both in town. All the outdoorsman can sit together at one table and talk hunting and fishing and Cabela’s.  I’ll pass on this for the fashion and art and photography with Julayne and Lisa Revare Hickok. I’m name dropping on my homies being there, have no idea of their social commitments that Friday as we’re all too busy to talk.
  • no one comes to these things if they are true dyed-in-the-wool pills or assholes.
so here’s the data:
Paddy O’Shays
Sept 2, 2011
9 pm to 1 am
135th and Nieman
As I haven’t seen Harold and didn’t hear him play in high school, I have no idea of music genre. In my mind, this could be anything from Led Zeppelin to the Monkees, but I’m sure we can find a way to dance to whatever it is. I intend to dance a lot, mostly with the girls.
So, that’s about it. Toejam, is of course, front and center. But, I do love these opportunities for high school friends to get together.  I realize that it may make me a bit of a loser to think back about high school. Whatever…But two things…
stop here for 99.9% of readers. The rest is just Paula’s attempts to get some of the thoughts about high school and friends role in later life that are constantly spinning around her head, onto paper and into her blog therapy. This is done for numerous reasons, one being her goal to talk and burden/bore others less about such randomness in casual conversation. I’m going to rehearse before I go Friday evening, can’t promise anything.  
  • I know I always have mixed feelings of good and bad about this time in my life. And almost 30 more years of real life, different people, different experiences, different jobs and places certainly makes this just a little sliver and maybe not the most interesting facet. But, it was the slice when we were transitioning from being girls and boys to women and men (hormonal). And that is a common bond. And, I’m thinking and hoping that amidst all the $h!t of probably not the greatest sex and fumbling, parents and family life, competition, drugs and alcohol and trouble and and self- discovery and Carolyn Howard, that there was a lot of joy and fun for everyone. This is what I like to remember with friends.
  • On a personal note about friends and I’ll get to the point after a bit of background…. I married 6 months after graduating from KU to an incredible man who went to a private high school in KC and was in a frat at KU. But, he grew up on a ranch in the Flint Hills. I should have realized that the Brooks Brothers and penny loafers were just a small part of this guy. But, the gritty cowboy thing was and of course, will always be extremely alluring, as you can imagine it was for a Johnson County Girl. This John Adams was really is the main show.  I was confident that since I was creative, love and I would figure out the rest. I threw myself in and have never regretted it.
    • So, right after we were married, we moved to the XIT ranch in his family’s cattle business down on the Cimarron River in very rural Meade County, Kansas, 30 miles from the closest city.  He’d go there to brand cattle for two weeks in the summer. But, he had never lived there full-time, so we shared the adventure. It is about as diagonally opposite from Johnson County as you can get in Kansas and about as diametrically opposite from Johnson County as it comes.
    • So, I’m getting closer to my point about old friends, places, and memories of key things to build upon that were my foundation and are my mother’s milk. These are for me: my family, my school friends, creative expression we all have and do in different ways, and France.
    • The isolation of living on the High Plains was often very challenging  for someone like me who a) likes to work for days on end and needs the solitude to do this, b) is efficient and isn’t going to drive 30 miles to town in a lonely moment just have coffee with a female and pick up the milk and c) is at heart a social person. But, I did it, I lived it, and the wandering in the Great American Desert to find self (as the High Plains was labeled when Europeans started to explore America) is me. And maybe we all have had or still have this in some form, whether in our truck or at our computer or in suburbia or at a cocktail party, or out on the beautiful ocean of the hi plains in Kansas…those moments when the blissful Alone can at times be lonely and we go inside our minds to find a companion with a common past that knows us and we don’t have to say a thing.
    • The point:  you were always on my mind and will be there for me, both at happy times and dark moments when there is no one else around and I am weary of being alone.  


[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7f189Z0v0Y&ob=av2n[/youtube]

I look forward to seeing anyone who can make it on Friday, 2nd.  Go Harold with the artful life! Paula.

le sketch du jour, July 3, 1980. Postscript. The moral is: remember you are your father’s daughter.

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Okay, Ginna Getto and Cindy Bean, here’s your story paraphrased!  

July 3, 1980. journal entry.

P.S. I have to tell a story about KU group that KU girls from Tennessee and Gower Place told me. Pure gossip, but funny.  Girl in Cindy’s room at youth hostel in Morzine hadn’t been home at nights while she was there.  She had met some boy at a café.

This is Cindy talking..

“Well…we decided the first night that she had just gotten caught up with talking and hadn’t looked at the clock ’til 8:30 am. NBD.  Then, it happened every other night.  O.K. Still NBD.  Professor Anderson said not to go home with anyone, but whatever, it’s her business.  Anyway….”

  • It is Sun. AM and after packing up the night before, it is the day to depart on a long bus ride to Paris.
  • Breakfast is at 7:30 and everyone is to be packed & ready to leave at 8:30.
  • The above-mentioned girl hadn’t left the auberge the evening before until 1:00 AM because her garçon ami had to work.
  • The KU bus is waiting at the Hostel.  Waits, waits.
  • Finally they decide they must find her.

The bus with Professor Anderson at the helm and Jeannie at the wheel drives to the café to ask the owner the guy’s name with whom the girl +avoir des relations sexuelles.  And, the address.

The bus, all seats full of the peering KU French Department, goes to the lad’s apartment.  As the bus is running, waiting, Professor Anderson mounts the steps and rings the bell repeatedly, rrrinnngg, rrrinnngg, rrrinnngg.

Luxembourg Lines and loose-y lady on the landing.

Finally inhabitants wake up.  The KU co-ed comes to the door, hair disheveled, mascara under her eyes, some article of French men’s clothing thrown over her naked body.

The bus continues to wait as the jeune fille (coquine, vilaine, malicieux désobéissant..take your pick) gathers her clothes to cover herself.

The bus must now return to Auberge and wait again so girl can pack her things which she had not thought to do the night before in her hasty retreat for “un plan cul” (booty call) that final night to remember.

Poor, poor girl!  But sort of funny, too! 🙂

 

 

Robin Macy, the original Dixie Chickie, Kansas Treasure, soil and soul sister of Mother Earth at The Bartlett Arboretum, Inspiration.

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I have to begin the concerts at The Bartlett Arboretum with Robin Macy.

Robin Macy & Paula Adams. Jimmy LaFave 17 July 11. The Bartlett Arboretum, Belle Plaine, Kansas.

The First Encounter

I first met Robin at some kind of architectural function where musicians were playing (maybe architect musicians?). Robin was attending because Mike Siewart, her architect for her home and co-creator at The Bartlett Arboretum, was there and I think was maybe playing.  I didn’t know anyone and was new to Wichita, newly working for SJCF Architecture and my daughter Lacy just beginning her 3 year jaunt at Wichita Collegiate.

There was wine. And Robin refused it saying, “I have to speak to the parents at Wichita Collegiate about the Honor Code and it probably wouldn’t be good for me to be slurring my words.” She had this wild blond platinum curly hair that reveals her soul piled high and some knockout attire that completed the picture, but in no way detracted or distracted from the spirit within. And, a few days later I met her at Parent’s Night. I learned that she was head of the “Go girls” (can’t remember name…kind of a find your light and let it shine in whatever context or era women are born in) group.  And, blessed, the next year she was Lacy’s geometry teacher.

The Angel Professeur at Wichita Collegiate Graduation, May 2006. Wichita, Kansas.

 

So I better get to the basics since I don’t know if anyone really reads this stuff anyway which are the following:

  1. The Bartlett Arboretum, links to Robin’s site, description of Lacy and Paula’s first visit, pictures.
  2. The XIT Ranch, Robin and Kenny’s visit.
  3. Robin’s beautiful poem to Lace at Sr. Graduation.
  4. A recent pic from Jimmy LaFave concert at the Bartlett Arboretum. These concerts from her summer series and music will be in separate posts.
okay one
The website has most about The Arboretum as Robin doesn’t talk much about herself, but if you ever see the video on early Dixie Chicks, she is in that and here’s the wikipedia link to Robin.
This is Robin singing[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UicERus50Ig[/youtube] 1992. She is the lead singer and guitar, voice like honey.
SYNOPSIS of HISTORY OF BARTLETT ARBORETUM AND ROBIN.
  • Go here for the site’s  history of The Bartlett Arboretum, the 100+ year old 15 acre planned landscape started by Dr. Walter Bartlett as an avocation in the city of Belle Plaine.
  • He also contributed to the community in the form of ballparks and public spaces in part motivated with his fatherly interests in son Glenn’s pursuits.
  • The next generation carried on with his son Glenn becoming a professional landscape architect and horticulturist. He took it to the next level with his introduction to French gardens and landscapes as Company Commander in the 1st Division in France during World War I.
  • As life would have it for those with Kansas roots, while completing post-graduate work at Columbia in NY, Glenn encountered Belle Plaine native Margaret Meyers. She was an artist, fashion designer for magaines, a university instructor, flower arranger and garden-club organizer. So Kansas was blessed for them to return, bringing everything they had gathered while away back with them to share with Kansas and Kansas to share with them.
  • Their daughters, Glenna and Mary along with Mary’s husband Bob Gourlay carried on until 1995 when they finally decided to sell to Robin “this cute little blond elf…[who] came knocking at the door. …we gained another daughter.”So Robin’s work began.
  • The site has all the rest, the soil sisters, all the people who make it happen, concerts, etcetera. She says it best.
The Buildings
But, one last word about design.  I can’t talk much about the landscape, out of my element. And a picture is worth hundreds of letters I use, so I hope to add more photographs later and edit a little here.
I’ve seen Vaux le-Vicomte, Versailles, Green Animals and lots of other stuff, but this little jewel in Kansas is most special because it is ours: a product of Kansas midwestern work ethic and lots of planning and perspiration.
The house:  Mike Siewart’s design (Wilson Darnell Mann, Wichita) built a second level upon the simple several room brick dwelling that was originally on the property.

Robin Macy and Emmanuel Magisson with classic expressions. Pictured to actually show the original house lower level in the background.

The Kitchen: This  joint creation of Mike and Robin’s has wonderful stained white concrete counters with weathered patina in the tiny L-shaped workspace. There are only the cabinets that one person needs (husband Kenny has a separate house…the perfect setup), with several doors of antique glass spool cabinets. These were memorable to me as I have a few of these in which I use as drafting tabourets.
The Upstairs: It is kind of a loft space, so the steps are the grand ascent to her bedroom with footed tub and sink.
The Closet:  should be in a period museum and is a painting in itself of boots, petticoats, urban, rural, high, low, cowgirl, play area that is how I imagine a movie costume room to be for a Merchant Ivory Movie except it would be a different movie, maybe Wade’s Even Cowgirls Get the Blues meets Daisy, Mattie Ross, and Coco Chanel. But, never a costume on Robin. She always looks like someone who just transcends time.
The Guest House:  this is where Robin offered for Lace to live her Sr. year. I lived in Wichita for two years, but went home the third. I think it was the old chicken coop. It was really too far for her to commute with activities, but Robin was such a supporter of our family to make this loving offer.  It takes many mothers…or maybe she was Lacy’s sister since Lace didn’t have one. Anyway, Robin helped raise the Adams family.

Robin's guest house and some kind of former outbuilding.


Hmmm..only on two? I’ll make this one brief.
The kids and I were gone from the ranch that day, but Robin and her then boyfriend now husband Kenny were on a road trip one day and said, “I think Miss Lace lives around here.” They whirled up in a cloud of dust at the XIT Ranch on the Cimarron River in this dashing convertible to drop in and say “hey” to John Adams. This is always, always appreciated. Kenny is the guy mentioned above who is a musician among other things and lives with his son in the other house on the property at The Bartlett Arboretum.  He is darling with curly curly hair, too.
Here’s the cute pic, I’m so proud of John or whomever took it since the usual photo lady not there. Thank you Robin I’d say. 

Robin and Kenny in front of XIT Ranch Headquarters where the John Adams family all raised themselves together: John, Paula, Lacy, Jack.

Three:  Robin’s poem toasting Lacy at the Sr. Graduation Dinner at Wichita Collegiate School.
Comin’ outta shoot No. 2, weighing in at 101, no stranger to a saddlehorn or a pair of running sneakers, we now toast our Curly Girl.
Miss Lacy Amelia Adams journeyed the furthest to be with us tonight.
Born and reared on the histori working XIT cattle ranch in Meade County, Kansas (Daddy, John, met me at the cattle cross last year wearing spurts and sweat) this fourth generation cowgirl has much to yodel about.
Our Lacy rode a school bus 60 jies to attend a rural elementary school before her parents decided to send their Little Girl to the Big City for some AP-style “edumacation.”
She has been a very courageous woman, living without her family all year in order to make this dream-come-true.
Lacy was born smiling, from wrist to wrist. She calls ’em like she sees’em and knows all the words to Back in the Saddle Again. Mathematics did not always coe easy for Lacy but she was true to her upbringing:  tenacious and disciplined.
Qualities she surely learned while mending fence or building feed bunks in the summertime- alongside her beloved ranch hand and constant companion, brother Jack.
She was a mainstay in my classroom after schol during her Geometry tenure and I am grateful for those times together.
 Always a style-setter this fun-loving madrigal singing trackster nevr said an unkind word about anyone.
No wonder Lacy is loved and adored by her classmates and teachers.
Like her hair, Mrs. Stokley says her vivid writing and note taking is wild and magical.
Lacy heads off to the University of Kansas in the fall where I’m certain she’ll continue to be wearing her sweaters backward and with her infectious laughter, continue to be the life of the party and proving to all who are lucky enough to know her that some of the best cowboys are, indeed, cowgirls.
You can see, life will never be long enough for Robin to refill the pitchers she pours for us all,  sharing so many gifts that she taps into from one moment to another. Her focus on the big picture, caretaker and co-creator of a beautiful landscape, leaves Kansas with her footprint and those of so many others. So, she lives on and will always, putting her energy back into the soils of the earth in one way or another, always with Robin’s soundtrack as backup.

Exposing Emmanuel to the Flint Hills Symphony: The French farm garçon-son I never had.

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Paula sans chapeau et Emmanuel at Flint Hills Symphony

From: Emmanuel Magisson <e_magisson@yahoo.com>

Subject: Re: l’art de la bicyclette

Date: June 10, 2011 6:33:20 PM CDT

To: Paula Adams <paulagravesadams@gmail.com>

The bike show seem interesting. 🙂
Attached is the route to my place from Wichita.
The route to the Concert will be pretty!!!
We can stop at Cottonwood falls and look at the Church!
For the time, it is up to you. Wichita-Volland is a 3 hour drive.
Your time is my time.
Bring a large chapeau for the sun. Like a Audrey Hepburn hat you know. 🙂
The black hat you have is a smaller version of the one she wears in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Very elegant.
A bientot,
Emmanuel
Well, what can I say?
Yes, it’s embarrassing for both me and more so for Emmanuel, I’m assuming. But, we’re over that.
first meeting
I met him at The Good Egg where we were both sitting at the counter on a Sunday. I had blown in from outside after walking here with Rosie who was waiting outside for her bacon. After hearing him ask the waitress for something, I seized the opportunity, being pretty confident it was a French accent. J’ai sauté et j’ai parlé. When in Wichita with the French, do as the Frenchmen.
History
So, we then had a bit of background about my summer in France and subsequent trips, and his youth growing up on his father’s family’s cattle farm outside of Lorraine before escaping to engineering school in Paris. After that, we were quick copains, and he walked me home with Rosie.
He also told me of various French cultural events in Wichita sponsored by fellow Frenchwoman Claude Puntel of the CCAI Institute but that’s another post.
How the friendly French say, “How-dee'”
So, here’s Emmanuel and how he said, “How-dee!” as he is very receptive and tries, at least in part and at first, to “when in Kansas, do as the Kansans.”  That is, he let me take the picture. I would have gotten a disdainful look and promptly recoiled in France, I am sure. And, he is a farm boy at heart, hard-working, practical with money, true to his roots. The style this is a little different though….there are farm boys and there are farm boys…

Emmanuel and Paula at The Good Egg. March 2011

So, we’ve advanced to me helping him get his game on with the ladies in the US. He is very polite and reserved, a gentleman, and lives up in Newton doing high level mechanical engineering prototype design for agricultural implements. And, not getting any younger. So, my unsolicited advice was in the form of a comment re: the number of years he has been in the states and that he better get on it. Or at least, back on. And who will really ever know what he does back home on the farm?
So, we’ve decided the l’été-l’automne thing of being seen in public together might work for our respective programs though I am trying really hard to find him younger, fun’er female companions. But, he’s not pulling his weight on this part.
Emmanuel’s program as I see it for him, unsolicited of course:  to highlight what I have told him are the cultural stereotypes that he will always have to endure to include the following…
a) the men thinking he is a snotty socialistic bastard and jealous of his ways with women.
b) the women thinking he is a great lover.
Paula’s program:  to get attention for my blog which has no point except for me to have fun with hopes of a future design client to pay for this fun to include…
a) practicing my French
b) to promote one of a few good hardworking kind men with rural roots that I know on FB to women.
c) To allow my American men friends (C Michael Bailey) to have an actual Frenchman at whom they might hurl their European socialist political slurs.
[note: He bikes in Kansas with many men like this, so when a new rider takes him on as bait and his older buddy jumps in, Emmanuel says, “I can handle it.” Much of the time he takes it on the chin. In general, we don’t talk politics. Values are basically the same.]
c) to promote idea that I am really leading a secret wild life to work with basic “attention” program above
d) to flaunt c) so openly as to hide the possibility that this might in fact be a reality….no, that was a joke.
Yes, we tend to get our picture taken alot for some reason, possibly because we are speaking in French.
And so you’ll know,  Emmanuel has no tolerance for a photographer asking his name once and then having to tell another person. He will say, “ask that guy.”
[He thinks that he blends in, does not have an accent, and is a totally polite Frenchman adopting all American ways. But I seem to always capture that inner French look of disdain that they are born with, humble and respectful and americanophile that he is.]
And possibly, we are also noticed because of how we dress in Kansas.
Emmanuel wears those black shirts that have like flat tabs on the shoulders, a very European look. He has about 20 and they all look the same. I think his jeans are levis, old school, but the history of  “de Nimes” is another post.  He was appalled at the cost of jeans in Brick’s in Wichita.
I wear my usual Paula clothes…a Degas-like tutu netted top with red belt, my black patent pale pink French whore platforms with cutouts, a small black hat with a big fuschia flower, that type of thing. Not all together of course, only a piece at a time and with French restraint. No “matchy-matchy.”
So, no. I do not want to be pictured in next year’s brochure for the Flint Hills Symphony, “Emmanuel Magisson with un-named much older woman.”  Would I want the father of my children to be photographed and pictured in a brochure when he is touring the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Wichita (he has done this in Oak Park) with Emmanuelle Seigneur? We must have some respect for each other’s territory.
And especially not in Kansas… those Puritan roots run deep.  Ah, but the French have always had a tolerance for such things. They call the after-office-hours ­rendezvous of a man with his ­mistress the ‘cinq a sept’ – after which he goes home, happy and relaxed, to his wife and family.  It might be something we should adopt in the next century….but don’t tell my father I said that.
And, since I’ve spent this entire blog post making excuses for why I’m hanging out with a much younger French guy named Emmanuel, I’ll have to do the post of the evening in Volland at the Flint Hills Symphony in another place. So, I will just have to say….”whatever….” to what anyone thinks.
Okay, stay tuned for The Symphony and two concerts at The Bartlett Arboretum with Paula and Emmanuel. No more excuses.

le sketch du jour: 30 June 1980. SMOOCH à la français.

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[I did not include June 29, the day of arrival. I arrived before everyone from NYC with the Parsons Group. They gave me a free breakfast, a croissant and café au lait.  In France, they bring a croissant in a basket or usually a plate and a big coffee cup or most often, it is already at the table. Then, they come to table to pour the two pots of coffee and steamed milk simultaneously into your cup. The steamed milk always tastes very sweet.  It is all on lots of thick, very white ceramic tableware, but the carafes are stainless.

The other notes were mention of my roommate Charlie from Toledo, a small town in Texas. She is kind of a bit bigger girl, smiley eyes, short dark hair, and proved to be a bit promiscuous with the men from Marseilles, but she had a kind heart. The other girls were soon to be very good friends that I met that day. They were a Tri Delt (Allison from Tuscaloosa) and Kappa Delta (Lisa from Memphis) from the University of Alabama and had southern accents. This was my first contact with southern women and they were very very nice, not unlike my KC/KU girlfriends, but more attune to feminine things it seemed.  I hung with them much later in the summer as I realized I was alone so much with Charlie out all hours of the evening with dark men. ]

30 June 1980.  

Paula ravished by Frenchman in a SMOOCH! au coin de Boul Saint Germain-des-Près et Boul Saint-Michel.

Woke 7:00.  Ran 3 miles. A man kissed me twice when I was asking directions!!! What do you say?! On the forehead-actually took my face in his hands!

[Can you tell I loved it? This has only happened to me one other time upon first meeting someone, though it was actually upon re-meeting someone I had only known a little bit from my past.]

Breakfast: croissant & thé at hotel.  We met at le Musée (des arts décoratifs which is the north wing of the Louvre and where we would study and meet in the mornings for our lecture). It is closed to everyone but Parsons students at the present due to renovation.

Orientation:  Michael is my lecturer-young, dark beard, long jesus-y hair, nice.  Charlotte Lacaze gave a lecture on the History of Paris City Planning & then we bought our subway cards (carte d’orange). I bought some cold chicken & carrot salad which I ate in the Tuileries $(4.50). Then, I walked around ’til two when class began again.

[This is the start of my pleasure in doing things by myself which I still enjoy.  It was not by choice in Paris most of the time. But to this day, I love to eat, go to movies, and travel by myself.  I sometimes am lonely, but not very often when I am alone. If so, I just go out. I love watching people and meeting new people and I don’t feel compelled to talk so much and can listen and ask questions and learn.]

Map of Paris Stomping Grounds, Day One. from (still very old) 14th edition antique bookstore copy of Karl Baedeker's "Paris and Environs : Handbook for Travelers", published 1900.

This is the first of many maps from my antique 14th edition of Baedeker’s classic field guide to Paris, found and given to me by my mother Ginny Graves. What I love best about this book is his blessing to the reader…

‘Go, little book, God send thee good passage,

And specially let this be thy prayers

Unto them all that thee will read or hear,

Where thou art wrong, after their help to call,

Thee to correct in any part or all!’  

-Says everything a writer hopes for.

At 2:00 we had a Decorative Arts lecture au Musée and then we visited the 14th, 15th, & 16th c. pieces. 

Walked on Rue St.-Honoré to find American bookstore & needlepoint shop. But needlepoint store was closed. It was very expensive, too.

Very tired so bought dinner in a charcuterie-a little quiche & some kind of spinach/vegetable salad. 

Big Day! Lots of walking!

le sketch du jour: The train to Paris. Those snotty little bastards. Stay away from the dark-skinned men. Sat. June 28, 1980.

by admin

Trying to get my luggage in the overhead bin.

Sat. June 28, 1980.

Woke at 10:00. Ran to Le Lac Montrion (7 mi.).

Group went to Chamonix, but weren’t getting back ’til 7:00 & I had to be at bus then, so I stayed home to pack.

[I’m repeating myself, but I went over with KU French Department. I studied and traveled with them for two weeks, but I was actually enrolled in classes with Parsons School of Design, New York City, in their study abroad program. We studied the History of Decorative Arts in the Museum of Decorative Arts that is the north wing of the Louvre. And, we had brief lectures in afternoon on Paris history and urban planning. Then, we hit the streets to see all the arrondissements, boulevards, and buildings. These told the story of religion, kings, politics, power, prostitution, learning and most of all, people wine and food that are the things French that we love, despite WWII and their superior attitude about us saving their ungrateful asses from Hitler.]

a tangent: The French and WWII. Why American men refer to Frenchmen as “those snotty little bastards.”

You know I love the French. This is from so many men I know, and they do have a point since it seems to continue.  You know how that goes…”that accidental bomb dropped in France en route just slipped.”  Or, as someone on the internet put it….

“We only fucked up one place, we accidentally dropped a bomb on the French embassy. ‘Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! Aw, sorry about that fellahs. I’m sure we would have had better aim if we had more FUCKING SLEEP! Thanks for those 6500 extra air miles, you fuckheads, BUILD A NEW HOUSE!’ BLAM!!!”

Walked to town at 3:00.  Had café au lait $ read.  Lots of people came in.  I sat by a German Shepherd.

Jeanie and Bob took me to the station. Raining. Station was very stark.

Two nice ladies answered all my questions, but I am making progress→I kept kind of having them reiterate what they were saying about reserved seats vs. tickets, etc. & finally I said I’m American.  They said, “Oh! Vous parlez français bien!” J’ai dit “j’ai besoin de longtemps pour le comprendre.”  🙂 [I need a long time to understand]

Train was funny.  2 seats facing each other w/ overhead racks. [I always spent least possible, so even though overnight, I did not get a couche-lit with bed. They are like sleeping in a sardine can anyway though the train does lull.]

You should have seen me try to get my bags up.  I finally left one on the floor. An older couple and girl got in my car in Annecy. Wasn’t too bad except for the cold. I think I’ll get a bed the next time I take an all night trip.

one woman’s warning

[It is interesting to me that I so vividly remember a woman at the train station in Morzine speaking to me before I embarked on the train, but that I haven’t written about it.  She was older and looked very nice and kind to speak with me in French before I left. She was concerned about me being alone on the train to Paris. And, her particular words that I remember are warning me to be careful of “les Marseilleuses.” She mentioned that I would know because they had such dark skin. The French have so many cultures they accept that they don’t have the same p.c. hangups about speaking of racial generalizations we do in America. Of course, as with most people, people carry racial stereotypes that are formed for a reason, historical, regional, cultural. But, France has always welcomed and attracted such a multi-cultural population that I hardly think this can be termed “racist” in the “hating” fashion that it labels people who current venture into talking about race this way in America. There are many healthy things about being able to discuss race. Anyway, you’ll see later in the summer with my roommate, who slept with every man on the left bank from Marseilles, that this came into play with my immediate bunking situation in Paris.]

 

 

 

 

le sketch du jour: Wichita. Saturday July 2, 2011. by Paula Graves Adams

by admin

Kress Energy, Douglas and Broadway. Wichita, Kansas.

Decided to get back into sketching the hottest day of the year in Wichita, July 3rd. 107 degrees. I had done cross-fit mash-up for an hour and then 2-1/2 more hours of fundamentals (lifts, etc.). But, I was downtown and it was the day to begin.

My sketching reveals my personality a little too much. My goal is to start like this and then work back to my primitive sketches as I had at the beginning of the summer in Paris. It’s all in the journey back to being a child, isn’t it?

Anyway, it is too stocky, but it doesn’t look as bad as it is because you can’t see the third bay.  I was sitting on the concrete curb in the sun, right by the street so cars were like 6′ away from me streaming down Broadway.

I finally just got too hot, so I threw in the towel and took pictures, as I decided to finish at home. When I spilled my Starbucks on it, I liked it even better and may have to get some watercolors to put color into the drawing. And, I like it the way it is.

Anyway, the pen is back in hand. It was very relaxing even though it doesn’t look it.

History of the building

And, it is Kress Energy. It has 51,000+ s.f. and 98% occupancy. Beautifully restored. Schafer Johnson Cox Frey Architecture just up the street did the restoration/renovation.  This is the architectural firm where I worked when Lacy went to Wichita Collegiate for High School.

The bank where you change your money when traveling abroad is a branch of Bank of America (across the street and big marbley glass monster building) but the international banking is located in the lower level of this building. It is a very intimate place to get your pesos and crib notes for travel conversions.

And, Kress Energy is for sale and is a bargain, I think about 3.3 million. 58 buildings nearby have already been purchased. Wichita is like a frontier town right now, very exciting. But, it’s getting bought up, better hurry. I think Delano is still affordable as well as the Arts District south of sprint and the design district just west of 135. Come to Wichita!

Here’s the description:

Kress Energy Center is a landmark building meticulously restored and updated to meet the standards of discerning firms, it offers timeless elegance rarely found in today’s offices. The property is attached via sky-walk to Bank of America Building and Kansas State Bank Building. Surface parking for 26 and additional parking available in the Bank of America parking garage.

Located in the heart of Wichita. Kress Energy Center is on the NW corner of Douglas and Broadway streets. Kress Energy Center provides it’s Tenants with access to such key areas as Kansas State Bank Building, Bank of America Center and the Petroleum Club.

Anyway, just had to do my sales pitch. It really was an incredible building when it was built. Wichita an oiltown so people do it right.

 

 

le sketch du jour: the train schedule, little mouse, une fête de coutume.

by admin

Hank wore a BOZO wig and danced w/ all the girls and put his hands clear on their ASSES!!

June 27, 1980.

Woke at 10:00. to more freezing rain. Ran anyway (4 1/2) in freezing rain. Hot water deal was broken :(. Froze.

Lunch -some paté thing. french frîtes & great spinach!! Yaourt & fruit.

Went downtown at 3:00 to l’autogare to find out train schedule. I’m taking a train that leaves at 10:00 PM at night and arrives at 7:00 AM.  I take a 7:30 train from Morzine to another town that train leaves from. [sorry grammar] Then in Paris, I’ll take a taxi to hotel.

[I went with KU French Language Department as I was a French minor, but I left the group early. I was studying with Parsons School of Design/NYC au musée des arts décoratifs in the Louvre. The two courses we took were a History of Decorative Arts and Urban Planning of Paris.  The history of decorative arts was all about French periods of design as they related to political and social context.

Ex. of Decorative Arts Study:  French armchairs from earliest kings to present, tapestries, history of bone china to Limoges, quimper, motifs like folle nappe (folded napkin), swags, boulle dressers, etc. etc. etc. Basically, everything you wanted to know about antiques and roots of interior design.

Ex. of Urban Planning Study:  from Roman catacombs below Notre Dame to Haussmann’s Boulevards. About halfway through the trip, I lost my carte d’orange and didn’t want to buy another. So, I walked these Avenues and experienced Haussmann’s Paris on foot. As well, the running allowed me to experience many parts of the city within a reasonable 6 mile distance from city core.]

Class at 4:00 to 5:30-Tea.

Cindy & I planned trip ’til dinner.

[we were all getting our groups together to travel the last two weeks of the summer in August after we were through with our school in Paris. Cindy Bean, who I knew from the Theta House, and I were going to Madrid, Toledo, Barcelona, and a beach town called Blanes in Spain].

Dinner is at 8:00 & is a costume party!!  We have a present for Jeannie, the bus driver!

[he was the sweetest man and put up with us. He also seemed to drink quite a bit of wine in our picnics along the road as I remember back. At the time when we were in high school, this was common practice. Drinking and driving, that is. But as I reflect, he was in a position to be responsible for a whole busload of American college students. Again, liability issues, especially in France at that time, were not an issue].

I have a new name given to me from the cook’s helper.  It is mouilleté or something like that. The word is German for “a little mouse.”

[I think I am confused here and couldn’t remember what he’d said.  The German word for little mouse is “mausa” and the translation for mouilleté is a) soldier or b) finger of bread eaten with a boiled egg.  Maybe I was feeling militantly angry with all this rain].

Costume party was a riot.

All different kinds of people in this group, all dressed up, all drinking & going out! I wished Marthe or mom or Robb or someone to be here that would see the humor in this situation!

[I am not a fraction as much fun as I would be now in this situation, very cautious. I don’t know why, because I was pretty wild in high school. I think it was just an internal safety thing for me being around people where I knew nothing about anyone’s background, family, especially with all the alcohol, probably good my binge drinking shoes had for the most part been hung up.]

I wore my green putter pants with green cotton sweater & leaves on my head.  I wore a sign that said “haricot vert.”  There was a punk rocker & a hunchback, a Dolly Parton, homosexual in drag (the bartender at the Auberge).

Amy was a hula girl, Ginna-Liza Minnelli [Getto-Kappa], & Cindy [Bean-Theta]-a Heidi.

Hank wore a BOZO wig and danced with all the girls and put his hands clear on their ASSES!  I couldn’t believe it.  Of course, they let him but he is married w/ 2 little kids!