Today was the final day of the exhibition simply titled Dada at the Centre Pompidou. Paris is a city that doesn’t really embrace modern art. I mean, when your history is thousands of years old, the last 100 years are nothing but a ripple.
But the Pompidou Center proudly holds it’s place in the center of the spiral of Paris, the famous inside-out building which caused such a ruckus during the groundbreaking that women from Parisian society were reported to have thrown themselves in front of the bulldozers in protest.

Although it’s not a far walk from anywhere no matter where you are in Paris, I rarely go to the Pompidou since the lines always seem formidable. But today something in me prompted me to brave the lengthy queue which (as you can perhaps surmise) began a bit too early for me this morning…


I had an unconventional and artistic upbringing.
My mother was a weaver and a spinner. She went to art school with Andy Warhol and Barbara Feldon (best known for her role as Agent 99 on the television series Get Smart.) However, much to my star-struck chagrin, my mother never kept in touch with either. But she was really something. Even in our trappings of upper middle-class suburbia, I would stare wide-eyed as my mother would load up the Mercedes, don her Frye boots, toss her Louis Vuitton handbag in the passenger seat, and speed up to Vermont to spend the weekend on a farm with bearded hippies and shearing sheep with them, afterwards dying and weaving the soft, oily wool into beautiful fabrics.
She’d sometimes bring big, fluffy sacks of wool home and we’d sit on the front porch in the heat of summer (her wearing just a bra and shorts, drinking Miller beer from the bottle), scraping the wool between two wire-bristled brushes to remove any impurities (ie: thistles and sheep poop). Our hands were always dewy soft and fragrant from the lanolin and the lush softness lasted for days and days.

Luckily for me, I was exposed to a lot of art and creative expression, as well as a certain amount of kookiness during my life. How I ended up living in a little rooftop apartment in Paris, writing about baking cookies and cakes for a living is beyond me. I guess I wasn’t destined to work at IBM or perform brain surgery, although I know deep-down that having a son who was a doctor would have made her very, very happy and kept her in far more Emilio Pucci than she could have imagined.

At the Pompidou, the show was astounding and really knocked me for a loop. It led me to think and reflect about so many things while I wandered through the galleries, transfixed by films of illuminated squares and rectangles, and floating mobiles made simply of wooden hangars, the creator managing to find beauty and simplicity in everyday objects we normally take for granted.

Dadaism was a movement, or counter-movement, against the art “establishment”. It’s similar to how the blog was, or is, a reaction against the established ‘media’, where a free-flow of ideas isn’t restricted by economics or politics. It’s where anyone can say and do whatever they please. The other parallel is that Dada was a reaction to the coming technological age and they were rebelling at values they felt were destructive to society and humanity.

There are many political blogs that confront many of the problems in media and politics that traditional sources of information often avoid.
Unfortunately, I don’t read many of them. But I get a fair amount of other vital information from some of the others. For example, I am still trying to find deeper meaning in the break-up of Nick and Jessica. Or when Katie’s gonna pop and Tom and her are actually going to get married.

At the beginning of the Dada movement, many of the artists refused to sign their works. They felt that art should not be about the artist, but about the art itself and the message. Indeed many of the works were collaborations, much like some of the fine collaborative web sites that have sprung up that aren’t about the writer or the originator of the site, but about creating a discussion board and medium for a free-flow of ideas.

As I wandered through the exhibition, I noticed that many of the French artists, such as Duchamp and Picabia, were the most playful of the bunch and would use a urinal, a comb, or combine scraps of newspaper and typography into works of art. Artists from more disciplined cultures, like Switzerland and Germany, were more apt to play with industrial or mechanical themes. And American artists like Man Ray (who lived in Paris) used everyday objects like eyeglasses and cheese graters to make his ‘rayographs’ on photographic paper, combining both the industrial with the ordinary. He saw both in an entirely new way.

In their short time, the Dadaists knocked the establishment on its ear and I left the exhibition both stunned by their message and the magnitude of what they had accomplished. They were rebelling against everything people thought about art and the bourgeois values of their time. And now, even though their art is on display in a museum, valued at millions, it’s still able to convey anger and a contempt for the stratification of the world of art and the greater society.

It’s hard for us today to think that a major scandal could be caused by mounting a bicycle wheel on a stool and calling it ‘art’, or that a urinal simply signed by the artist would still cause rage in 2006. But it does. A man attacked the work of art with a hammer last week. He was the same one who attacked the work about 12 years ago. The piece, unfortunately, is no longer on display.

Once back home, I got to thinking more about why we do what we do. For example, here I use this website to communicate with readers impressions of my life in Paris and sometimes beyond. Wherever I travel and find something to savor and eat, I share it. It’s fun, and I enjoy getting feedback from those of you who choose to leave comments. Some of you comment frequently, and others will pop me a message once in a while. And I read them all with great curiosity and interest.

I enjoy the spirited camaraderie of other people I’ve met who have blogs. I’ve had the good fortune to devour Pierre Herm&eacute’s desserts and tipple a glass of cool Sancerre with a few here in Paris. I got to star in a video, roaming the city streets in pursuit of fine chocolate with a very nice Jewish boy from New York (who, alas, is not a doctor either…sorry mom.) And I’ve swapped chocolate tips while oogling the most luscious photographs from fellow expats in Germany.
I’ve learned about well-aged, syrupy balsamic vinegar by lapping it up with fragrant wild strawberries in Florence. I tasted waffles and ice cream for breakfast along with bottomless cups of good ol’ American coffee in Chicago. And I had a fireside lesson in the art of making confit de canard in Gascony, fueled by a glass, or two, of fine, locally-produced Armagnac.

On the internet there’s few boundries. Want to write about gluten-free pizza? Go ahead! Did you find a magnificent ham at the market that you just had to photograph? Shoot it, and let’s take a look. Was dinner last night amazing? Show us. Had a culinary catastrophe that’s too funny to keep to yourself? Share the joke.

The internet allows us to keep in touch, bound by our love of good food, often accented by our appreciation of other cultures. You may be tethered to your desk at work or stuck in your apartment, but you can take a break and learn about a luscious sweet confection in Lyon, be intrigued enough to try a new recipe for Guacamole, drool as steaming noodles get ladled into bowls at an exotic outdoor market in Vietnam, and explore the vivid spices piled high in the markets of India and Africa.

I just don’t want to get wacked by any hammers along the way.

The exhibition will be at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC from February 19th-May 14th, 2006. And at the Museum of Modern Art in New York from June 16-September 11th, 2006. Don’t miss it.

(Oh, and by the way, thanks mom…wherever you are…)



  • Alicat
    January 9, 2006 8:36pm

    Lovely post – and your mother is lovely. You, on the other hand, look a bit worrisome in that picture. :) lol

  • January 9, 2006 9:06pm

    Oh. My.

    You were clearly saying “Quel Horreur“, even at that young age!

    This is such a beautiful post, David. I’ve passed it on to my own mom, who is quite a character in her own right.

  • January 9, 2006 9:13pm

    Ha ha – I see the kookiness you experienced must have come from within.
    My mum is quite normal, which is why I hoped she’d win the icecream with David. It would have done her good.

    your mum looks so fresh and moderne. Can’t believe that picture was taken 74 years ago when you were only a few months old.

  • January 9, 2006 9:29pm

    David, that’s the greatest baby picture I’ve ever seen! Hilarious. I loved how you tied blogging to Dadaism. Intriguing idea. Some of us are Dadaists at heart, seeing beauty/possibility/absurdity in the mundane details of our lives, while others seem to view blogs as a way to gain exposure in the conventional media (not that that’s a bad thing).

  • January 9, 2006 10:57pm


    That is a compelling and touching post! And an excellent summation of why food blogging has become so important to so many. It’s an unseen bond between the person and all the people, places and foods they would like to experience.

    (P.S. Great baby photo!)

  • Gail
    January 10, 2006 12:42am

    Those 2 pictures of you scare me, but a great read.

  • January 10, 2006 1:05am

    The Jewish boy wasn’t a doctor, but he was a lawyer. I’m sure your mom gave you some points for that, no? This was a great piece, David. Love the baby picture!

  • Judith in Umbria
    January 10, 2006 7:16am

    I hope someday my child posts something even half as fine about me. Anywhere will do, even if it is just in her own heart.
    Wherever Mom is, she’s proud and still thinks you are adorable. (It’s not too late for medical school, and they now say you can cure some things with chocolate.)

  • January 10, 2006 7:36am

    To para-quote a good friends of ours (Judy Diva Witts), ‘the internet is like going to school everyday!!!’ Thanks David for making Art History 101- Paris seems not so far away and much more real. And aren’t Mom’s cool…still. Lucky boy.

  • January 10, 2006 8:13am

    Fabulous post David. That picture at the top made me laugh out loud as I scrolled down, I might just put it as my screensaver. And let me just say, your blog has definitely made an impression and it has been a pleasure getting to know you through it.

  • AlliK
    January 10, 2006 8:56am

    Agree with everyone – great post! Seeing the exhibit in Paris sounds like a treat, but I’ll have to wait and catch it here in DC next month.

  • January 10, 2006 9:22am

    Oh my god, you made my early morning palatable, once again.

    J’adore the Dadaists. Whenever I teach the Dada movement to my high school students — yeah, yeah, I’m a high school teacher — their eyes go wide. The sharp ones laugh like hell and see all the possibilities for it. And the others are a bit scared. I love pointing out to them that Marcel Duchamp’s Mona Lisa with the moustache actually spells out “She has a hot ass” on the bottom, when you say it phonetically. How could I resist this?

    Your mom was far more daring than mine. We were eating TV dinners and Pop Tarts, not communing with hippies in Vermont. I wish I had been.

    And finally, of course, that photograph. David, you kill me.

  • January 10, 2006 11:47am

    Fantastic – you write about chocolate, modern art, your mother, the internets, and it’s all great. I loved the post!

  • Janet
    January 10, 2006 12:12pm

    David, Very scary getting the National Governors Assn (wrong link for National Gallery of Art)

  • John
    January 10, 2006 12:22pm

    MMMMMMMMMMM! Most enjoyable; thanks for sharing a little of your fascinating early life and your observations of the Dada exhibition. Might one, like Oliver Twist, ask for more? Big hugs.

  • Alisa
    January 10, 2006 12:27pm

    There can be no better argument for seeing art and having art in your life. Art is Life.


  • January 10, 2006 12:59pm

    Alicat: Worrisome? Wanna see worrisome? Look at the mug on that canine of yours!

    Adam: Lawyers are so 90’s. Doctors were the 70’s and 80’s. This era, everyone wants a computer nerd in their family.

    Shauna: You’re definately not someone on my list of people that should be killed.

    Janet: Oops. That’s what happens when you blog at 2:30am. Didn’t mean to scare to (for that, visit Alicat’s site!)

    Gail: If those pictures scare you, I have a couple of a ‘certain someone’ chowing down in Italy that might raise a few hairs on ‘ya.

    Alisa: If art is life, what’s chocolate??

  • January 10, 2006 1:17pm

    now we undertand you better!
    having had a art backround myself, not with Andy Warhol mind you ( BARBARA FELDMAN!)

    I totally understand, I think creativity takes stranges roads, but look were it got us!

    I think I may save that baby picture as a screensaver too!

  • Dana
    January 10, 2006 1:26pm

    Beautiful post, beautiful mom. Considering your formative years, my guess is you would have ended up wearing those orange socks even if you had never set foot in Paris. Attention
    critic(s):observe the variety of scarf-tying techniques of the Parisian ladies in the first picture!

  • January 10, 2006 2:41pm

    Oh, you haven’t changed a bit! What a handsome devil. And wonderful post. I can’t fathom how much narrower my horizons would be without this miraculous internet. Thanks, Al Gore.

    And wow, what a mom! Now we know who’s responsible ;)

  • January 10, 2006 2:50pm

    You Always make me smile.

    Love the snooping lady with the gray coat, and most of all letting us Snoop in your life.

    Happy 2006!

  • Alisa
    January 10, 2006 3:08pm

    It’s completely logical….a perfect IF…THAN…. THEREFORE
    If art is life than chocolate must be art

  • January 10, 2006 7:51pm

    You make me wish I were in Paris. And you make me sad that I don’t need last names to know who Nick and Jessica and Katie and Tom are, but have never heard of Duchamp and Picabia. Great post, and I learned something — as always with blogging.

    Great photo, too. I now feel better about the baby photo of bald, pudgy me that was described as a “baby Marlon Brando” … and I’m a girl!

  • January 11, 2006 6:57am

    Nes: She’s wasn’t snooping…she was trying to cut in front of me!

  • January 11, 2006 7:55am

    Terrific story, thanks very much David.I wonder if my favorite Dada object,Oppenheim’s furry teacup was in that show? (Le Dejeuner en fourrure)

  • January 11, 2006 1:27pm

    what a beautiful post david, and you were such a cute baby (despite that open-eyes-wide look) *grin*

    ps: i’m training to be a scientist but i am seriously doubting my career choice as my mind often wander aimlessly… so trust me, i think you’re on to a much better deal in paris!

  • simona
    January 11, 2006 4:52pm

    1. Bravo, David, you succeeded to do something else with your blog. It’s not the first time, but since I follow your posts, it’s the most stimulating one.
    2. For our respective jewish mothers the order is the following ( for sons/potential husbands, of course): doctors ( especially dentist, yes Adam), lawyers (sorry Adam, it’s second best) and engineers.
    3. Who are Nick, Jessica, Katie and Tom?
    I’m OK with Duchamps and Picabia.
    4. I was aware that I will be missing this one by merely 9 days, but at least I’m arriving in time for the Klimt$ co. exhibition at the Grand Palais.
    But we have a nice Dada museum here, thanks to Marcel Iancu, one of the founders of the movement.
    Waiting for your next art critic post

  • Narelle
    January 13, 2006 12:03pm

    mon dieu!!!….I had to read your post to find out The Newlyweds were finished….and very
    disapointed I missed this exhibition in Paris!

  • January 13, 2006 2:04pm

    SUCH A CUTE BABY!! haha, how funny, never knew a child could have such big eyes (in the best way, of course).

    the lines for le musee, tres longue — tu a assez patient :)


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