Life imitating Art

This weekend I allowed myself a little city break in the European capital - Brussels.  I did try and tease you a bit about it in fact if you've been following my instagram (#fs6inbxl).

Unwittingly, to some extent, this trip turned into a 'life imitating art' episode, the art, being Guze Stagno's What happens in Brussels stays in Brussels (read my review here).  Let me just summarise why:

• Through an odd turn of events, I was 'sort of' staying at the Hotel Des Colonies - the same one which Stagno's characters slept in (I was actually staying at the Hotel Siru, but the two are interlinked and with a joint reception / breakfast area at the moment); 
• Despite not taking a trip over to Bruges like the Stagno crowd did, I took the ultimate in tourist traps - a hop-on hop off bus ... which is ironic, seeing as I lost count of the times I've been to Brussels in the last 9 years; and
• I finished off my stay much as the hapless group started it: lunching at L'Altro Mondo ... which did almost send me to the other world courtesy of a super-sized plate of pasta swimming in beschamel! 

Ever since I've read the book, every trip to Brussels sees me looking out for the characters described, trying to see the Capital through their eyes ... but trying my best not to behave like them! 

But besides the Stagno references, this trip was 'art-full' in another way:  I spent my Saturday morning at the recently opened fin-de-siecle museum, soaking in a variety of art nouveu and realist pieces from the late 1800s.  Once the 'traditional' art fix was had, I headed off for my regular stroll in search of street art and the murals which adorn a number of Bruxellian corners. Needless to say, my thirst for this type of art was more than quenched.  

I feel that every time I dedicate a little extra time to this city, I find myself falling more and more in love with it.  I will never love it as much as my own Valletta or adoptive Krakow - nor will it ever top my favourite cities list and topple Prague or Ljubljana from the top spots.  

But Brussles has something that very few people - at least in my line of work - see beyond the Euro-grey.  It is a vibrant city full of delightful contrasts: where the majesty of the Grand Place and the Old Town sit in a friendly arrangement with murals depicting Tin Tin and other Belgian cartoon characters as well as street art pieces by popular artists like Space Invader and less famous ones; art-nouveau avenues host contemporary luxury and high street stores; grey suits invade the lush green parks on sunny lunch-breaks. It is a city that has social problems which can be easily seen, but which I feel endorses its diversity and celebrates it - it is ultimately, the capital where all of Europe and beyond, meet. 

subway dreams

I have a dream.

Not a very complex one, though civil engineers / architects / cultural heritage managers / artists may disagree on the level of complexity I envisage. Let me tell you about it.

Ever since I returned to Malta, it has become a regular habit of mine to change buses to work in Blata l-Bajda.  As the Maltese readers will know, this area known as il-Bombi is notorious for commuters crossing the multiple carriage way haphazardly - commuters who should actually be crossing to the other side of the road from the underpass linking the two sides.

I'm not too keen on risking my life, especially first thing in the morning.  So I take the underpass. Only another handful of commuters does unfortunately, and I don't really blame them. The underpass is, for want of a better way, sordid.  Monday mornings are the worst, with regular remnants of the weekend's less than sociable goings-on.

But it shouldn't be this way.  I dream of this place, and any other of the few underpasses in Malta being different.  I dream of them as being a pleasure to walk through.  I remember a few years ago Kinemastik had held an event at this particular subway - evidence of which is still on its walls in fact, thorn and graffitied over.

I dream of these underpasses being brightly lit, why not, painted over with artists' commissions livening up the place.  Look at the Maalbeek Metro Station in Brussels.  I fell in love with this station eight years ago when I first ventured to the European Capital and haven't fallen out of love since. The Belgian born and bred Benoît van Innis was commissioned to produce wall paintings on tiles in 2001 when the station was being renovated.  The illustrations are charmingly cryptic, much like many of his The NewYorker covers, but give due celebration to one of the highly accredited artists in Belgium. 

I dream that entering the local subways doesn't make you feel as though you're entering some god forsaken dungeon, but a place where people can quickly socialise, possibly carry out some last minute purchase - a paper, a coffee, maybe some breakfast on the go - as they rush with their fellow commuters to catch the next bus.  Think of the theatrical entrances to the Paris Metros in Guimard's art nouveau style and what a point of historical, architectural and touristic reference they have become nowadays ... a beauty in their own right!

Some dreams remain just that: dreams.  Others can lead to hopes and plans. While it isn't in my power to plan and affect any physical changes, I do have hope.  My hope stems from the University Skate Park subways which I went through recently and saw brightly coloured with young, mostly unknown street artists' works.  I have hopes that with the Bombi and Floriana subways being a stone's throw away from the 2018 Capital of Culture, these spaces will be renovated as links to/from the City, reflecting the artistic and cultural beauty of it, while simultaneously providing a safe option for commuters to actually use. 

I have hope. But in the meantime, I'll keep on dreaming. 

confession #000061

... or, strawberry fields forever

this morning started off in one of the most idyllic ways, at least for the city girl that i am.  freshly faced and clad in my rather bourgeois fred perry stripes, ankle-grazing skinnys and ballerinas, i hopped over to the farmer's market which is actually just round the corner from our apartment in krakow.  the 10 minute trip put me in a good mood and i figure i should adopt this as a bit of a habit ... though getting this done before the 07:30 start of work day schedule may seem a bit gruelling ...

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confession #000054

... or, david bowie is in my head

if you've been following closely enough, you'll know that last week i went for a quick break to london. initially, the aim was to go catch up with some close friends and visit the roy lichtenstein retrospective at the tate modern.  as an afterthought, i figured i should try my luck with visiting the david bowie is exhibition at the victoria and albert museum as well.  tickets online have long been sold out for this so i didn't know whether i would actually manage to go in.  i'm delighted to report that the stars aligned in my favour.

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confession #000034

...or, my other passion

i've often written about my two main passions in life: fashion and dieting.  this blog was actually triggered by the latter and evolved to incorporate the former as well.  but i don't write much about one other passion that i have inherited: art.  

with my dad being a truly talented artist, venturing in various art media and forms, continually developing his style, i couldn't help but grow up in an environment where art is as vital as the air that one breathes.  as a little child, i recall visiting museums with my dad and learning - willingly or otherwise - about the great renaissance artists, their unique styles, and the various movements that have patterned the history of art to date.  i don't think i have inherited his talent, even though i do try and i have taken a few lessons here and there.  if the talent is there, i have neglected nurturing it.  but i have certainly not neglected my interest in the subject.  

so much so, that just a few weeks ago, i bought myself a flight to london with the primary intention of visiting the roy liechtenstein retrospective currently exhibited at the tate modern.  i had never done this before - and it was an exhilarating feeling clicking 'buy now' on the airline website, knowing that in a few weeks i'll be looking at one of my favourites.  i am edging to experience again the thrill, to feel my eyes welling up in the same way they did when i visited leonardo's lady with the ermine at wawel castle last october, or when i saw warhol's marilyn monroe in january.

just about to tear up before the lady ...

oh, marilyn

i guess, this is where my dad and i differ.  he appreciates my excitement at seeing a warhol, liechtenstein, rothko, kahlo and so on, because he experiences it every time he sees a da vinci, raphael, titian or preti.  but he can't quite classify them in the same category of artists with a capital, bold 'a' as he does the more classic or traditional ones.  it's a matter of taste really, and the more varied the taste, the more heated and enjoyable our discussions about classic vs modern art are.  

lastly, i must mention that this post is inspired both by the realisation that i don't mention my dad enough in this blog, as well as by messy nessy's post on an exhibition revealing frida kahlo's wardrobe.  oh what i wouldn't give to visit this exhibition! had it been anywhere in europe i'd probably already be on skyscanner checking out the cheapest flights ... but mexico? i think i have to restrain myself on that.

(for those who understand italian) this is what my dad and i sound like discussing modern art ...

confession #000032

... or, another throwback thursday

today i'm in a good mood: i weighed myself this morning (as i do every other day) and found myself a tad lighter; then i logged onto facebook to find that another two of my favourite bands - franz ferdinand and biffy clyro - are joining my ultimate favourite, florence and the machine, at the coke live music festival which i'm planning to attend in august; and the temperature has risen by about 1 degree (above zero, that is). i still can't wear my new aztec embroidered ankle boots or my leopard print ballerinas, but at least i might just about be able to get by and swap the hunter snow boots to something a bit more feminine!

oh boy, i want to wear you out so much

but, as i always do, i digressed.  

for throwback thursday, today i bring you a set of photos i had taken for a clothing project - flokk city series - a good friend of mine had done back in the summer of 2011.  you can still find the flokk page on facebook here.  you can also see some 'behind the scenes' and me shooting away! 

much love and thanks must certainly go to my friend pawlu mizzi who had entrusted me with this project, the models jessica, michelle, jake, jean pierre and heinrich, and to holger who had helped us all the way.  i look back on that day with fond memories of the fun we had during the shoot as well as for sentimental reasons as my life pretty much changed after that eventful afternoon.  

check out the full set of images here

confession #000030

... or, throwback thursday

yeah! i hit the big 3-0 in terms of posts on this blog.  i guess it is somewhat of a milestone seeing as i'm not one of the most regular of bloggers.  today also calls for another little celebration: it's my eighth year at my current workplace and thanks to this job (which i truly have a passion for, as i suppose my colleagues can confirm), i get to visit quite a few places around europe.  and in celebration of this, i've decided that today's post will be all about one of the cities i visited quite recently for one of my meetings: paris. let's say that in pure hashtag fashion, this will also be the first #throwbackthursday and let nostalgia lead the way. 

i visited paris last december for the first time.  to be quite frank, i'm not actually sure if i would consider going again.  i suppose i had a mild bout of paris syndrome or it was just a collection of occurrences which came together to make me somewhat disillusioned about the city.  but let's not start on such a negative note. 

i spent a total of four days, arriving on saturday and leaving on tuesday, with the last two days being taken up by my work meetings. this allowed me almost 2 days to see the sites.  admittedly, this was not much time, but it was enough to get a good impression of the city of lights. i opted to stay in the montmartre area, with the aim of being inspired by all the artists who walked along the same streets i would be traipsing on, and also because it was the closest arrondisement to the meeting venue just outside paris. 

i first headed to the sacré-cœur basilica and the famous steps leading to it where practically all parisian youth congregate, and not just.  the place was replete with tourists enjoying the sun in the otherwise cold day.  i must admit it was quite a struggle making my way down the steps to reach the heart of montmartre and its quaint shops and cafes.  the next place which i visited was the cafe des deux moulins, which any amelie fan must, absolutely, visit.  this was my personal little mecca and i wouldn't have left paris before visiting it. the place is exactly like it was in the film, save for the fact that it was full of tourists who were obviously as intent as i was to have a coffee there.  

following that i walked on to galeries lafayette and the shops around boulevard hausmann.  honestly, i was not prepared for what i was to face.  i'm not sure if it was the louis vuitton christmas shop windows or the fact that i timed my visit to galeries lafayette when all the coach tours were visiting but it was a nightmare to get in, a nightmare to shop and a nightmare to get out.  i had to queue for a good twenty minutes at the longchamp shop to get the pliage totes which i was intent on laying my paws on. over the years, i've come to the realisation that i'm not good with crowds.  despite being in the mecca of luxury shopping, all i could think of was to get out. not one for going out in the evenings on my own, that was pretty much my saturday done. 

sunday called for my personal grand tour du paris. i caught a taxi from my hotel to the notre dame area and headed off to the shakespeare and company bookshop, which much to my dismay was still closed (that's what you get for being an early bird).  i returned there at the end of my tour and i could feel the spirit of kerouac and other great literary figures still present there. i then headed off to the notre dame  du paris itself and strolled along rue de rivoli until i got to the louvre. unfortunately there was no way i would manage to go in with all the visitors queuing but at least i could peruse the grounds. i kept on walking along rue de rivoli until place de la concorde where i then turned into avenue des champs-élysées.  i don't meant to lessen any of its charm and allure, but most big cosmopolitan cities have big, high-end shopping streets.  champs-élysées is yet another one. 

once i got to l'arc de triomphe, i found i needed to give my feet a rest and took a rick-shaw ride to trocadero to see the eiffel tower and then got dropped off at the invalides.  a quick tour of the grounds and then i headed off to the rodin museum where i enjoyed an hour or so, touring the museum and gardens. following that, i decided to start heading back to my starting point and walked along the rive gauche or southern bank of the seine.  i loved the little vintage books and prints stalls all along the bank and my two regrets are (a) not getting a vintage print of paris and (b) not queuing to go into the musée d'orsay when i walked by it (there was a fashion in 18th / 19th century art exhibition going on). when i decided to call it a day, i found a taxi to take me back to the hotel to prepare for the next two days full of meetings. 

as you may have noticed, i practically walked all the way or caught taxis.  the reason i opted for this approach is two-fold: firstly, i generally enjoy seeing places i've never been to on foot as i find that that's the best way to experience the real city (i wouldn't have spotted half of the space invader graffitis had i caught a site-seeing bus!).  secondly, i'll quote the various taxi drivers in their description of my hotel's area: "oh, dangeur! wahrninng! 'ot, 'ot area!" (you have to imagine these being spoken in a thick french accent to get why i purposely misspelt some words!) i had chosen the hotel purely on the basis that i would be in the same place as one of my foreign colleagues; however, i had not paid attention to the fact that the area was not the most savoury.  the hotel as well, turned out to be rather disappointing.  upon my arrival, i was told that the elevator was not working and had to get help to take my luggage up three flights of winding stairs.  there was no way i would go out alone at night and there were no restaurants in the hotel or nearby so sunday night i ended up calling pizza hut! my breakfast on the last day was cut short because the receptionist could only help me with the luggage (yes, the lift was still out of order) in a 5 minute time window where his shift overlapped with the next guy's.  i suppose, the elevator issue can be overlooked as a case of bad timing, but i certainly would not recommend the area nor the hotel to anyone i'm afraid. 

all in all, my trip to paris was as full of ups and downs as the streets in montmartre.  if i close my mind's eye to the negative bits, i did get to 'see' all that i wanted to see and in all truth and fairness, the central arrondissements are truly charming.  i doubt there's an ideal season when it's best to visit paris if throngs of tourists are not your cup of tea.  but if you do go, my little recommendation is to plan what you want to see in the time that you have, and to walk.  there are little gems round every corner and you won't get to see them otherwise, trust me.