Over the holidays we visited Berlin. It was cold and dark, but still no less charming than the last time I visited. This time around I spent a lot of time in museums (of Communication, Egyptian art, East Berlin). My favorite, by far, was the Gemäldegalerie, which specializes in my favorite period, 13th through 18th century European art. What a treat to spend hours taking in Vermeer's light, Bruegel's chaos (do you know this painting? It was all I could do not to press my face into the protective glass.), Claesz's stil lifes, the intricate red threads of Hans Holbein, the way Botticelli renders hair. Days, weeks could be spent in this collection. I'm working on some projects around lace and the galleries were chock full of inspiration. The collars and cuffs are so intricate and careful. From top to bottom, the work of Peter Codde, Jan Anthonisz van Ravesteyn, Nicolaes Eliasz Pickenoy, Werner J. van den Valckert and Frans Hals (final two). I am amazed and fascinated by how artists can render such delicate patterns, and all with gradations of white and gray.
Last week I found myself in Paris for a whirlwind visit with friends, and to take in two concerts thanks to the impossibly generous and delightful K & M. It was an awfully special trip as Andrew and I got engaged in Paris four years ago. It's hard to find any fault with the city, but if there's one thing that frustrates me it is the feeling I panic I have whenever I get lost. It isn't a romantic, "ooh, I'm wandering the streets of Paris" lost. It's a "dearlord I onlyhave48hours in the city and everymomentspent walking down this interminably long boulevard isanotherminute spent away from themost delicious pastry/most beautiful painting/most incredible vintage market/most inspiringartisan" sort of anxiety. I spent an entire day actually acquainting myself with the Latin Quarter, not visiting any of the shops, so the next day I could return and would know exactly where to go. This, it turns out, helped a great deal.
In no particular order we visited with our adorable friends and hosts Chris and Charles who always greet us with lively conversation and quite the spread in their comfortable home; scarfed down pastries at Du Pain et Des Idees twice (my favorite part of their website is that they include the sound of the bakery. My heart melts and sometimes I just keep in on in the background while I work). I saw this terrific wrought iron door at a nearby school); had a duck extravaganza at Au Petit Sud Ouest; paid the obligatory visit to Deroylle; saw Mozart L'Egyptien, and then Artaserse, a late Baroque opera with five countertenors (including the incomparable Philiippe). For me, the conductor of the show, Diego Fasolis, stole the show. I can't find any good videos of him conducting but he is worth seeing live if you ever have the chance. And lastly, thanks to Betty, I spent a few hours gabbing and crafting with Simone, creator of Edition Poschette who embodies the Parisian fairy you've always wanted to meet (and whose apartment I covet). I'll do a separate post on her off the charts creations but in the meantime, you must check out her site. And then Berln for the holidays. Any suggestions? Want to meet up? Phew!
At a certain point it becomes unsustainable to buy even a fraction of what I'd want to in Italy. So I have started a Pinterest board called "The things I didn't buy in Italy." A good example of this is what was to be found this weekend at the world-famous antiques market in Arrezzo. What I didn't buy: cameos, chandeliers, a family of lamps with such character, a box of weights, vintage pen nibs, an watercolor and photo album from 1901 with photos of a naval commander's travels (with lots of young women...) to China, and countless other sparklies. What I couldn't resist: a drawing of that same naval officer's son (?), a miniature chair, an old leather wallet with the most terrific patina. Also, a photo album covered in rabbit fur with a gold plate that says "Souveniers de Chasse" (seen over on Instagram). I'm curious: how do you navigate overwhelming antiques markets? Do you have a good way of of deciding what to buy and what to leave? It's so hard!
I'm terribly behind on posting our adventures around Italy. In September, after Lucca, we drove around the Emilia Romagna region and, not surprisingly, ate. A lot. ER is home to balsamic vinegar, Parma ham and Parmigiano-Reggiano. I'm most familiar with this area from Lynn Rosetto-Kaspar's cookbook The Splendid Table (there's also a two episode podcast on the area that features a riveting story about eels). We started at Osteria Bohemia not far from Modena. Angelo and Zdenka Lancelloti have a sprawling garden and nearly everything we ate came directly from their plot. They specialize in using herbs and flowers in their food: salad with rosepetals, baccala with nasturtiums. These bright colors and flavors were a refreshing change from the norm. It was a gift to eat their food. We stayed up late into the night chatting and telling stories. The next morning, Angelo gave us a tour of his balsamic vinegar operation in the attic. As you enter the property, you see the sign above, supposedly a Sioux proverb:
Only after the last tree has been cut down,
only after the last river has been poisoned,
only after the last fish has been caught,
only then will you find that money cannot be eaten.
The next day we biked along the River Po and made a pilgrimage to the famed Trattoria La Buca in Zibello where cook and owner Miriam reigns like a queen at her wooden desk. My favorite part of our visit there was the wall-sized case of grappa bottles, each with a hand drawn label by artist Romano Levi. The labels and distllery were his life's work. And then came Verona, which deserves its own post.
So is this a thing in cities all over the world and I've just never been aware of it? That love letters are written randomly on walls and streets? Or is this just the magic of Italy? From top to bottom: "With my heart and soul, an 'I love you forever.' To my only princess", taken on a wall outside of Fiesole; self-explainatory on a wall on Costa San Giorgio; and "Silvia, I love you. I know that these months have been hard but I want to be with you," witten on a small road near Galluzzo. "The two of us forever," wirtten on a path near I Tatti.
Is marbled paper terrible or wonderful? The question is simple and complicated. On the one hand: it is terrible. How many times have we all received some marbled knick knack and thought "it's so...marbled." On the other hand: it is wonderful. There are colors and patterns that you won't find in any other type of paper. Full stop. In Florence, I see marbled paper daily in the studios of artisans who have been making it for centuries. And I've started warming to it. Or maybe not warming to it but beginning to think about how to use it without it reading as HELLO! I AM MARBLED PAPER! So I present lesson number one: moderation.
For these invites to our movie night I tried using a small scrap of this green, gold and white marbeled paper and then overlaying matte gold ribbon. I expect by the end of my year here I will have taken classes and become a convert. Promise you'll still like me if this happens. Because I can sort of see it happening. I'll keep you updated.
The other day after a visit to the Boboli Gardens, I was wandering around the Palazzo Pitti neighborhood when I happened upon the store &CO. Overflowing with vintage furniture and posters and books, handmade leather goods, ceramics, pillows, and little corners of delight (two above), it was clearly the work of someone with a special, gifted eye. There was beautiful, familiar calligraphy everywhere, on many of the products. It was overwhelming. "Who is responsible for...all of this?!" I asked. And there she was, Betty Soldi: designer, calligrapher and proprietor of &CO with her husband Matteo. And then, inevitably, we started the mile a minute yammering that only comes when you get two calligraphers in a room together. Betty is totally magical, and I can only attribute this, in part, to the fact that she comes from two centuries of Florentine firework makers. (Read all about her amazing life here.)
I am so excited to introduce you to Betty's work. She's penned for the top of the top: Hermès, Mont Blanc, Giorgio Armani. I feel like an overeager teenager, but I can't wait to collaborate with and get to know this kindred spirit.
Last weekend we went to Lucca, an ancient walled city about an hour away from Florence, with our friends Fabrizio and Flora. Yes, there were churches. Many churches. And also porcini. Incredible grilled porcini at Osteria dal Manzo. But headed back home Flora and I agreed that one of our favorite ways to understand a new place is through their office supply and stationery stores. Which is what I did. I happened upon some locally printed cards and these old Letterfix sheets that, I believe, are no longer made. I have such fond memories of my mother's folders and folders of these. It was hard to choose just a few, including the Greek alphabet and these trees from above. Lucca's famous flea market that winds its way through all of the piazze was taking place and there I found this spectacular embroidered monogram ribbon that was sewn into clothes; telegrams from Belgium with pastoral illustrations; and two letters to the same person, in the same hand, but with different pens.
Hello hello. I write from the green pastures of Connecticut en route to visit Rob and Loic in Provincetown and, most importantly, celebrate Rob's 30th birthday. I went pawing through the archives and came upon these photos from last year. The top is a good display of this couple's impeccable eye for decor; the next is Loic on the beach sketching out the float he will build for that year's parade (which parade? I can't keep track). He has a reputation for building the best. And the last photo, courtesy of Rob, is the view from the finished product. This scene about sums up why it is so fun to visit. Hope you're squeezing in a few more summer adventures too!
Often clients and collaborators are a bit confused by and surprised at how often I travel and still manage to take on work. So I wanted to share my little secret to being portable: libraries (public, at universities or research centers). In the last two months I've taken up residence at the Getty Research Center (literally too beautiful to photograph), and (top to bottom, L - R) Boston Public Library, Cambridge Public Library, Newton Free Library, Weston Public Library, New York Public Library Children's Room (Central Branch), Columbia University's Butler Library and the New York Public Library East Village branch. In New York, if I have an hour or two to spare, I'll locate the closest library and pop in to charge my phone, read a short story and poke around the new releases. In the more distant past, the Oxford University's Duke Humphrey and University of Pennsylvania's Fine Arts Library were refuges.
Often a library is the first place I seek out in any city I pass through, and even the cities I live in. I think there are many reasons why: a feeling that if they aren't used, they'll be closed; the silence; the thoughtful architecture and inspiring small touches (like the quilt in Weston and the miniature figurines and floor plan at Columbia and busts in Newton); the free wireless; vibrancy and the presence of youth and children (in fact the Cambridge branch IS the library for the adjacent Rindge and Latin High School as far as I can tell); opportunity to peruse the shelves; the friendly staff. In some places (Getty) there are organic lunches to be had on the rooftop terrace. In others (Weston) you can reserve an entire private office for yourself. In others still (Boston) it's closer to a museum, with breathtaking Sargent murals. I bring my pen, ink, scanner and even envelopes and settle in for the day. If you are mulling over a road trip or sabbatical but aren't sure of where or how you'll work, it might suddenly seem possible with a local branch nearby.