This week is my Substack birthday week!
A year ago, I talked to my friend Emily of
about moving my newsletter to Substack. It was early April and we were at bar for the lady expat’s evening and super creative cocktails. That evening, Emily convinced me to sit down, write a good introduction page, and continue writing newsletters here where you are reading this today (if your are not reading it as a newsletter in your mailbox in which case click here).I have been writing newsletters for almost a decade, and probably the favorite emails that reach my inbox are the ones from the people who respond to my newsletters. It feels so humbling to know that people read your musings, words about your creative experiments, and that they let you into their space. There is just so much noise everywhere right now. I very often feel overwhelmed and annoyed by it, so knowing that you are not a part of the noise for someone means a lot. Thank you for being here for a whole year with me!
On the first day of April, last Monday, we visited the arboretum of Paris. It is part of the Bois de Vincennes, and it’s a calm and magical place full of species that have found their way to exist in the mild-continental climate of Paris. These species usually grow in other places - from Japan to Alaska, from Chile to Siberia. There was something symbolic about this place - trees were planted, and they were invited to grow here if they felt like it. Many of them stood proudly, inviting us to come closer and learn about them - each tree has its own little tag that tells you its origin and its name. Some of the trees felt a bit confused, and some of them simply gave up. Living in a foreign country often pushes you through all three phases, so I felt at home among the trees.
Probably the tallest of the trees in the arboretum were three Picea Omorikas - Serbian pines that I called all my life Pančićeva omorika. Monsieur Pančić was a Serbian botanist who documented this pine and after whom it was named. I read somewhere that he documented around 50 species new to science in his time.
It was rather empty and we managed to briefly talk to the arboretum guard who suggested we come back again in two weeks' time when there are more leaves on the deciduous trees. Across from the arboretum are the gardens of the horticultural school of Paris: Ecole du Breuil that should be visited too, he mentioned.
This visit made me want to write these newsletters more often. There are often so many things happening - interesting things - but what stops me is the fear of being boring. I write every day. Sometimes a couple of sentences, sometimes a couple of pages. This became my way to empty my brain; I write with pen and paper. It’s not high-quality reading whatsoever - it’s just something that makes me more present, more attentive to the world around me. Similar to my “mapping memories” drawings. So this year I might write more here, and more letters might come your way. Substack was a successful experiment, a place where I come to put all those broken thoughts from my notebooks into one body of work.
Cherry tree flower confetti covered me yesterday as I was passing next to it. I stopped to smell a distant scent and thought about how the pink silky flowers invited me to watch them. Further down, the same little shrub that I mentioned in the last newsletter, again in a corner of a street, invited me to come and smell it. There were also Japanese roses, bright yellow, that looked like little pompons, inviting me to touch them. All of nature was in synchronicity, pushing me not to look at my phone but to participate in it. Further down the street, on the metro Raspail, a whole symphony of purple - irises, lilacs, and something called blueblossom awaited there, and I couldn’t just not take a photo of it.
A couple of weeks ago, two friends asked me to draw something special for them: their place of joy, a little cafe where they met. They needed something rapidly, and since it was urgent, I suggested a Mini Map - the anniversary of their meeting was approaching, and they wanted it printed, signed and on the wall by then.
These two ladies met in Cafe de Flore in Paris years ago, and they have always lived in different countries, but they kept in touch - first through letters, then through phone calls and emails, and finally now they talk often on WhatsApp. They wanted me to create this map, a little artifact of the longest relationships in our lives - friendships - and they wanted it on the wall, framed. Cafe de Flore is their happy place, a place where they felt understood and supported - in that moment and in the years to come.
While I was drawing it, I often thought of all those places where we met important people in our lives, people who made us feel loved and cared for. People who made us laugh and helped us find solutions. I asked those two friends if I could share their special place online. And here is the map of that moment, of that connection, of that feeling.
Besides all parks turning into perfect impressionist paintings, the city itself has put its restaurant gardens out, and people are joyfully sitting, smoking, and conversing. The sun changes everything indeed.
I embarked on a new chair project; although I knew what the next chair to draw and paint would be a long time ago, I promised myself to first sell out the Luxembourg chairs and then hop on the new adventure.
Here are the first sketches of the famous Parisian bistro chair - the Drucker chair - that I plan to develop further with ink and paint. You will be able to customize it with your favorite colors if you decide to order it for your space. The first dibs for the paintings will go to my subscribers, and as mentioned above, for the occasion of my Substack birthday, you can become one for 20% off for the whole month of April.
Thanks for reading - I wish you a wonderful day. I hope that spring is blooming in and around you.
Love,