Art is Whatever the Artist Has to Say

November 27, 2012 Posted by admin

“Art is Whatever the Artist Has to Say”, is a quote given to me personally by Tom Sachs at his Space Program Mars exhibit at the NY Armory last spring.

Graffitti Art, or “Whatever Art” has become the foremost art of our times; made world famous by Keith Haring subway work in the late 70’s and continuing stronger today. From the poor South African townships to the chic Parisian Rive Gauche, artists worldwide are expressing themselves however they want with the whole planet as their personal art gallery.

As a young woman in Paris, I danced in Chez Castel nightly (I lived upstairs in the penthouse). My husband and I were frequently found dancing the Bostella at Castel’s, on the small dance floor next to Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, who also loved to dirty dance. Jane and I (both not French) danced with more abandon than our French girlfriends. Serge and Jane broke up and Serge later died. We never saw Jane swing her hair and her hips in circles again. The sixties had passed.

Their home on the Rue de Verneuil, near my dress shop on the Rue Bonaparte, became a French Historical Monument tourist attraction known for the Graffitti Art on the  walls, doors and grills. “Homage  to Serge,” France’s most popular balladeer, creator of the infamous song, “Je Taime Moi N ‘en Plus, (the singing orgasmn) that he sang first with his paramour Brigitte Bardot, and later with his wife Jane Birkin was the art theme of the graffiti covered home.

Slowly over the years the streets of St Germain de Pres became the most expensive square footage in Paris (20, 000 euros per sq foot for 200-400 year old apartments) that  have become art galleries with local Graffiti Artists expressing whatever they have to say on the ancient stone walls.

The preferred dance club of Gainsbourg and Birkin, Chez Castel is, funny enough, Grafitti-free. Chez Castel at 15 rue Princess has no name outside, total chic inside. Ah, the memories! …..I was once at the door way in 1965, leaving in a see-thru, beaded minidress, when a car raced by and 2 Arab men in jellabas tried to pull me into a big car (kidnapping girls for harems in the sixties). But one of Elizabeth Taylor’s Paris bodyguards, Roscoe Stallworth, ran to my rescue and pulled me out of the car. The Arab prince I was going to would have thrown me out of his harem, as I wasn’t good harem material. I would have convinced the other women to revolt; no veils, no sex without equal pay, our own Swiss bank accounts, and the right to have gorgeous young lovers as gifts!