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Creative Inspiration in a Paris Bookstore

by Meredith Mullins on December 6, 2012

Creative inspiration from Shakespeare and Company, a Paris bookstore

Shakespeare and Company Bookstore in Paris
© Meredith Mullins

Paying Tribute to Shakespeare and Company and George Whitman

“Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.”

As you climb the sunken wooden stairs to the second floor of Shakespeare and Company bookstore, close enough to feel the vibrations of the Notre Dame belltower just across the Seine, you are confronted with a carefully lettered moment of philosophy . . . and a reminder of how owner George Whitman lived his life.

There are plenty of stories about the wild-haired and eccentric George and about the legacy of creative inspiration at Shakespeare and Company—the most famous English-language bookstore in Paris (and perhaps the world).

Whitman’s Inspiration

Most people would agree that George lived life exactly how he wanted. He created his bookstore in 1951, and it soon became a literary haven and creative inspiration for some of the best expat and visiting writers of the time (including Lawrence Durrell, Samuel Beckett, Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Gregory Corso, Anaïs Nin, Henry Miller, James Baldwin).

He supported writers and readers with access to English-language books and good conversation, hosted readings and book launches, and gave writers a kick in the pants when they needed it.

Creative inspiration from inscription above Shakespeare and Company door

Shakespeare and Company 2nd Floor
© Meredith Mullins

He lent books, cared little about money, had a tyrannical temper, but most of all was a socialist at heart, with a generous spirit at his core. He called Shakespeare and Company “a socialist Utopia disguised as a bookstore.”

He had a beautiful daughter when he was 68 (who now runs the shop, with charisma and charm), and he enjoyed the company of friends and admirers (young and old) until he died. He cut his hair by setting fire to it (easier and faster, he said). Every Sunday, he hosted conversation and tea in his top floor apartment and often held impromptu gatherings on the terrace outside the shop.

Even at his 97th birthday party, he sat in a throne-like easy chair amidst his friends and admirers and read the paper (his favorite pastime), oblivious to the hoopla around him.

George Whitman's 97th Birthday Party at Shakespeare and Company, a Paris bookstore offering creative inspiration

George Whitman at his 97th Birthday Party
© Meredith Mullins

Inside the Legendary Bookstore

The hard benches in the antiquarian room and other cubbyholes throughout the maze of books became beds for more than 50,000 aspiring writers and rambling adventurers over the years, although this “open house” came with rules.

You had to write something before being allowed in.

You had to read a book a day.

And you had to work a few hours in the shop.

Mostly, you had to think—keep your mind alive and curious.

Creative inspiration from Shakespeare and Company steps saying Live for Humanity

OIC: Live for Humanity
© Meredith Mullins

The labyrinthian store winds its way around many messages that lead to Oh, I see moments:

  • The time-layered steps to the back rooms deliver the subtle inspiration “Live for Humanity,” if you happen to be looking down as you step up.
  • The wishing well—a place for coins tossed with hopes and dreams— says “Give what you can, take what you need.”
  • Outside the store, George told his story on a chalkboard that says, “Some people call me the Don Quixote of the Latin Quarter because my head is so far up in the clouds that I can imagine all of us are angels in paradise.”

 

Whitman’s Legacy

George’s birthday is next week (December 12). He would have been 99 this year. He passed away last year, two days after his 98th birthday.

“I may disappear leaving no forwarding address, but for all you know I may still be walking among you on my vagabond journey around the world.”

Creative inspiration from Sylvia and George Whitman at Shakespeare and Company

George Whitman and his daughter Sylvia (2008)
© Meredith Mullins

George left more than a personal legacy of individuality and dedication to an ideal. He left an inspiration for living life with generosity and meaning. He believed we have certain inalienable rights:  friends, paper pages, the smell of library (and liberty), and the incredible journeys that thoughtful conversation and good writing can take us on.

Long live bookstores that give life to the written word, inspire thoughtful conversation, and embrace the creative spirit.

Long live the idea that strangers may be angels in disguise.

Long live the legacy of George Whitman.

Happy Birthday, George! Thank you for so many OIC moments. May you walk among us for a long time to come.

One of my favorite YouTube videos of all time is George “cutting his hair” with a candle, accompanied by his own poetry (“the good, the beautiful, the true”  . . .  and, of course, the smell of burning hair).

Read the George Whitman obituary in the NY Times from December 2011.

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A Cultural Encounter with Violence: Sicarios

by Meredith Mullins on November 29, 2012

International Fine Art Photography Winner
Unmasks Violence in Guatemala

The photograph that just won the Grand Prize in the 2012 International Fine Art Photography Competition is powerful, lyrical, rich in tones, and graceful in line.

As you look closer, a story begins to unfold. When fully understood, the image sends a spine-chilling message about the pervasiveness of violence in the world today and how easily it has come to be accepted as a part of daily life in certain cultures.

In so many countries, guns and killing are woven into the cultural fabric. Poverty, abundance of weapons, a legacy of violence, corrupt or dysfunctional law enforcement, war, revolution, drugs, gangs, and a reverence for the power of violence all contribute.

The Culture of Guatemalan Hit Men

Spanish photographer Javier Arcenillas titles his award-winning work “Red Note” after the police report issued daily in Guatemala that lists the violent crimes that have occurred. Arcenillas follows the trail of these alerts in Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and Mexico—to tell the story of this growing violence.

The image is a part of his series called Sicarios—an even more chilling story of a culture of “hit men” or hired killers in Latin America.

The job of a sicario is one of the most popular and respected professions in these countries. Young people are seduced by the easy money and the instant respect. Sicarios are strong . . . and feared.

“When they hold their first gun, their childhood disappears, and their games become adult games. Their playground is the street, ” Arcenillas says. “But they rarely make it past 25 years old.”

The sicarios are usually from the poorer strata of society. Young killers train by shooting pets and learning to eliminate any feeling of guilt. They graduate by killing the homeless. Then, they’re ready to be full-fledged assassins.

The Real Story in Images

“These problems of violence cannot be solved with a camera,” Arcenillas says. “I can’t save the world with photographs. But I can aspire to heal it. My role is to tell a story in images . . . a real story. The truth.”

Too often, a culture accepts and glorifies violence (films, TV, video games, street-level struggles for power, or legal pleas of “self-defense” and “standing one’s ground”). The stage has been set. But the real-life dramas that play out every day are reaching catastrophic proportions in many countries.

Arcenillas’s photographs are troubling, moving, and deserving of our full attention. As he says:

“Let the sentence of the day be, ‘For once in my life, I need to listen.’ Indifference is the world’s evil.”

His photos reveal a haunting Oh, I see moment, as we come face-to-face with everyday violence. The images, hopefully, serve as a call to action.

How do we keep eight-year olds from wanting to be corner-boy drug runners or sicarios?

How do we keep kids from wanting to do just what their older brothers are doing?

How do we make sure a country such as Guatemala prosecutes more than 5% of its violent crime cases . . . or even just reports the crimes that are committed?

How do we implant a conscience in a culture . . . a conscience that makes it wrong to kill someone or to remain silent when someone is killed?

These are life-threatening, life-changing questions that need answers. Soon.

 Learn more about Guatemala

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A Cultural Encounter with Mexico’s Calacas

by Janine Boylan on November 26, 2012

Oaxacan artist Carlomagno Pedro Martinez, whose calacas (skeleton sculptures) provide a cultural encounter

Sculptor Carlomagno Pedro Martinez adding texture to a skeleton’s shawl
© Janine Boylan

Symbols Abound in Skeleton Sculptures of Oaxacan Artist

Sculptor Carlomagno Pedro Martinez leans over the wooden table and meticulously adds texture to the wailing skeleton’s shawl. Loose bones, skulls, and other skeletons are scattered on the table around him.

At a cultural exhibit of Oaxacan artists in the Bowers Museum (Santa Ana, California),  Martinez,  the featured sculptor,  is working with the unique black clay he brought from his hometown near Coyotepec in Mexico.

Once Martinez’s figures dry, he polishes details with a quartz stone and then, using a centuries-old technique, kiln-fires his creations to obsidian black with gleaming metallic-like designs.

Martinez began working with clay when he was just four years old. His artistic parents taught his siblings and him the craft. Over time he developed his own style, inspired by traditional Mexican symbols and legends.

This was not my first cultural encounter with calacas, Mexican symbols of the dead. I knew that in Mexico, death is not negative or frightening. Figures like these typically are meant to be a joyous way to honor ancestors.

Observing the Sculptures

Martinez’s sculptures appear to be simple representations of everyday life.

One of Martinez’s pieces shows five animated skeletons on a bench. They are enamored with a frolicking dog and his bones.  Martinez had carefully textured each shawl, curved each hand into a meaningful pose, and added precise expressions to each face.

Five abuelas, dog, and bone sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Five figures, dog, and bone sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

In another sculpture, a skeleton lies on its stomach (or, more precisely, rib cage), joyfully studying a book. A wise owl perches at the skeleton’s eye level. They appear to be engaged in an intent discussion about what they’re reading.

Skeleton and owl sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Skeleton and owl sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

Nearby is a parade: a bone, a skull, a dog, and a cross-legged skeleton. A large mask necklace hangs around the skeleton’s neck. The dog is joyfully wagging its tail.

Skeleton and dog sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Bone, skull, dog, and skeleton sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

An ornate turkey hovers on a shelf over the skeletons. It seems a bit out of place, but this time of year, turkeys are still in season, right?

Turkey sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Turkey sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

Digging Deeper into Mexican Symbols

Being curious, I asked Martinez about the turkey.

When a turkey fluffs its feathers, he explained, it is a symbol of day turning to night.

Oh! It had nothing to do with Thanksgiving. This Oh, I see moment prompted me to ask more questions: What about the owl?

There is a traditional Mexican saying, Cuando el tecolote canta, el indio muere (When the owl cries, the Indian dies.). The owl is a symbol of death, not wisdom.

And the five figures? The dog?

Martinez explained that each figure is an abuela (grandmother) and represents 100 years of Mexican history. The dog represents the political party, and the bone represents the policies and politics. It wasn’t a park scene, but a symbol of history and politics.

The mask necklace around the neck of the cross-legged skeleton?

That is life, hanging around the neck of an ancestor.

More Than Meets the Eye

Oh, I see! What I had brought to each of his sculptures was an appreciation of his talent in crafting them and a message based only on the surface of the cultural encounter. But when he explained the deeper symbolism of each one, I had a completely different response. Each piece was a novel of symbols that deserved a more careful read.

It was a clear reminder to me of how important it is to dig deeper and gain a wider understanding. Something that appears clear and simple may have a complex message. That’s a lesson I can apply daily!

As I was leaving, I passed by the table from a different direction.

Turns out there was even more to that turkey than I first saw. Another reminder to look at something from many angles!

Back of turkey sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Back of turkey sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

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