FRANK 27: France by Frank151

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Words Thomas Giorgetti Photos Parigramme There’s a common misconception among Americans that good European crime stories only come out of Italy. Anyone who has spent time in France knows that’s not true. Paris has a respectable collection of hustlers, prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers and murderers who deserve their own mythology. And it doesn’t stop at the capital. A thick criminal underworld exists in most French cities. Frank151 spoke with Jérôme Pierrat in an effort to better understand the history of the French Underworld. Pierrat is a freelance journalist with over 19 years of experience. He is the Editor in Chief of Tatouage Magazine and author of Illustrated Men: The Roots of Tattoo. A specialist in criminology, Pierrat also wrote A Story of the Underworld: Violent Crimes and Mafia in France from 1850 until Today. Frank151: How would you describe the Underworld “à la Française”? Jérôme Pierrat : The Underworld, or French Organized Crime, is arranged

horizontally. This means that there’s no hierarchy, no pyramid like the Cosa Nostra or the classic US Crime Organizations of Chicago and New York. While some mafia activity does exist in France, it plays out in the areas closer to Italy. The influx of Eastern European and Asian immigrants has also lead to the establishment of organized crime rooted in those cultures. That aside, the French Underworld is based more on the individual. There is no “Godfather” figure, though there are important “Heads”. Anyone who tries to become a Godfather is murdered before they can do so. Crime is

localized in each area (Marseille, Lyon, etcetera) so most of the territories and the repartitions are smaller and easier to manage, unlike Paris which is too big and has too many districts to be controlled by one group. F151: What was the main activity in the old French Underworld? Was there a French “savoir-faire”? JP: Pimping was the main “savoirfaire” in France. Pimping is interesting because it involves a long chain of elements. The pimping “Network” was built on the pimp and the girls. Their home base was usually a bar in the neighborhood. The owner of the hotel was the keeper, who managed the rooms for the girls, and finally the “Placier” found strategic pimping spots. It was a Network because it functioned like a closed world or a circle. This circle also attracted burglars, gamblers, and other undesirable elements. The French Underworld is the sum of these types of circles. The prostitution “savoir-faire”, known as the la traite des blanches (“treat of the whites”) made France the world champion of pimping! Pimps and prostitutes left France by way of Antwerp and spread out to the four corners of the world. But the Eastern European and Asian networks saw the potential in pimping and moved in. After World War II, the trade slowed down in France, and in 1946 most of the whore houses and brothels closed. The 1970s saw the end of the golden age of the French Pimp. Sex hotels shut down as laws were made stricter. As a result, girls became independent, working by telephone, minitel and internet out of their one bedroom apartments. The pie became too small to share. Nowadays

there are very few conflicts between pimps because there’s no widespread competition, it’s too local. That’s the gist of the French pimping system. F151: How was the Parisian Underworld created? JP: In Paris and Marseille, at the end of the 19th century, Baron Haussmann’s transformation of narrow French streets into larger boulevards gave rise to “Pleasure Districts”. The lout, or criminal, was attracted to leisure and entertainment, that’s how he made his living! In the Old France, when the great walls were still intact, every village outside of Paris was full of louts. The smaller Underworlds were controlled by a head who gained local support with his charm, while still holding the fear and respect of the people. Separate villages were lumped together during the urbanization of Paris, concentrating all the louts in a few Pleasure Districts. The heads of these villages merged as a type of city council, to share Paris. But the whole system changed around the time of World War I. Rural depopulation brought thousands of peasants into Paris. All the communities shared the capital city, Britons took over Montparnasse, people from Corsica and Marseille took Pigalle. With a newfound enthusiasm for the French capital, the lout from the countryside was making himself known and taking risks. There was a lot of movement between the south of France and Paris, in both directions via the PLM railway. F151: What role does personal appearance play in the Underworld? JP: The lout’s style is rooted in popular culture, and there is variation depending

on region. With the lout’s migration to Paris, the codes changed. Initially, each work trade had its own style, identifying specific louts by way of certain garments and accessories. Tattoos and the use of slang were also very important in shaping the lout’s identity. A new style appeared at the beginning of the 20th century, called the “barrier prowler”. It consisted of a cap, a scarf, slippers and a bolt. Chicago Gangster fashion arrived in the 1920s and took the Underworld by storm, thanks to newspaper articles and films about famous American criminals. The French lout transformed himself into a copy of the American gangster, but outsiders continued to describe him

as a “barrier prowler” until the 1930s. French gangsters knew they had to up their appearance and blend in with the commoners. The suit and tie became the norm, along with the “Borsalino” hat, all far from the rebellious and revolutionary style. The importance of the lout’s appearance demonstrated his dedication to the job. He had to demonstrate class and good behavior while still commanding respect. The lout now had a reputation to uphold. Jean Gabin films illustrate the importance of the clothing code, a style that represented the Underworld at this point in time. The French Underworld is really conservative and classic in its codes and practices, as was the society it operated in.

by JR

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Words Olivier Kosta-Théfaine Images Alice & Addict Galerie “Hey, where do you come from?” “I’m from Sartrouvillois, baby!” West suburbs representative, and been that since I was a kid. In 34 years, I’ve had time to observe my hood, its codes and its changes. My fascination for the world that surrounds me has turned into a passion. Today I use it in my everyday work. My city is the engine of my plastic reflection. While most of my friends were playing soccer or riding mopeds, I was drawing. Already an alien at that time. Today, I try to decipher a discredited world through simple and ironic little mechanisms which I transpose into galleries, just to rub the outcome, the language of popular culture, into the white cube. I voluntarily use some of the suburb’s clichés, I play with some truths and I transform some other ones. I laugh at myself and I claim my pop part as much as some others would present their curriculum vitae.

product of the suburbs. I was born on an exotic land at the Paris border, just beyond the highway belt. My route is called RER A, bus n°272, or n°9, found between country and concrete blocks. Change of scene guaranteed.

I’m not Parisian, I’m a “banlieusard” and I wear that label like nobles have a “particule” (the “de” before the last name of the nobles). I’m a true

I come from a country where diversity is queen, like a Saturday afternoon in Châtelet - bling bling and color, every type of color.

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Nothing sad in the suburbs, ghettos bear the names of flowers, and on Saturday nights, we burn cars, and call it a block party. Observing the suburbs also means being sensitive to the broken glass of bus shelters that strew the asphalt like thousands of little diamonds, while barbed wire protecting the postal services warehouse changes into hundreds of stars as they twinkle from the glare of the streetlights. Undeniably, the suburbs are poetry: “fuck”, “nik” (fuck), “tamer” (yo momma) are tagged on the walls or on the bus benches. Regarding the fantasy, just look at the styles. The new generation mix English pleb with French thug styles - David Beckham haircut lookalike, Italian branded jeans and vintage

sneakers. Style is also on the older ones’ arms. Old school tattoos directly made with a needle and Indian ink. I come from a place where cats chill in halls, hold the project’s walls. Decoration workgroups get organized in the stairwell - the lighter’s flame helps to express with rhymes on the ceilings, or to customize containers in the trash room. My city stimulates dreams - a three star flowery city, and the project aside is called Les Indes (The Indies), but not really a postal card. No thousand and one night’s palace or Maharajahs here. A wooden horse’s merry-go-round just settled not really far from the old farm, close to the rail track. But for an ultimate rodeo, a paving stone through

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a car window and to know how to start it without the keys would be enough. My building is my pride, I’m a real supporter  - my concrete is my life and even if my links with it are doubleedged, I love it, I claim it, I protect it and I’m ready to fight for its honor. My tower is also a Nike Town, no cash to take the bus, you have to be impeccably dressed. Always dressed like a “gravure de mode”. Sportswear on every floor, logos and swooshes. The big shopping plaza sells cheap dreams. Walking around there don’t cost a buck, and it gives you the illusion of escaping the daily grind. The ultimate sight, just observe what you crave the most. A dream that don’t ruin you. And also, there are the allotment gardens at the bottom of the buildings that allow you to spend bucolic and sunny long Sundays just like in the countryside.

Nothing sad in the suburbs, maybe just a load of clichés that it is stuck with, and also a feeling of neglect from those who are living on the other side of the highway belt. (1) Supporters (Villa Daumier), supporter scarf, Alice /Artbrussels, Bruxelles, 2006. (Courtesy Alice & Addict Galerie) (2) Customize window (from my mum’s car), photographie couleur, 2006. (Courtesy Addict Galerie) (3) Herbier, lighter flame on a ceiling, Octave Cowbell Gallery, Metz, 2005. (Courtesy Addict Galerie) (4) Rosace, lighter flame on a ceiling, Addict Gallery, Paris, 2006. (Courtesy Addict Galerie) (5) Saturday night fever, colored molotov cocktail and cloth, Cruce Gallery, Madrid, 2006. (Courtesy Addict Galerie) (6) Projet pour une carte postale (Sartrouville), color photograph, 2004. (Courtesy Addict Galerie)

Curators La Caution Words Thomas Subreville Photos Vincent Sannier Thuggish, nerdish, indie, club, die hard, or those who keep it fake… La Caution is one of the only groups that all French Hip Hop fans can seem to agree on. However, music is not the topic now. In America you have “the projects” and “street cats”, in France we have “cités” and our very own “lascars”. Different culture, different slang, different style. France better recognize that in two centuries, those little rascals will probably take the place of those 18th century French Revolutionaries whose portraits grace the walls of our historical museums. The Air Max will replace the sabots, the Lacoste cap will be the next Phrygian cap, and “verlan” (backwards

slang – imagine a French street version of Pig Latin) will only be spoken by a few bearded historians. The deadly combination of Nikkfurie and Hi-Tekk, collectively known as La Caution, took us to their “cité” of Noisy-Le-Sec in order to introduce you to the new breed of French Revolutionaries. Peer into the present, because in the future, these are the faces that will hang on the walls of Le Louvre.

Black By Popular Demand Words + Images Antoine “WAVE” Garnier Although I was born in Paris and raised in one of its northern suburbs, I could also say I was raised through 10 years of traveling back and forth between Auberviliers and New York City. I settled in lower Manhattan in 1985 for a few months as a tourist. One year later I returned to the Bronx but was hopping around Jersey, Harlem and even lived in Queens for a minute. Brooklyn was where I felt the most comfortable. It didn’t take too long to digest the overcrowded sidewalks, yellow cabs and subways since French people use these types of transportation as well. It was harder to get use to the toughness of the city and its rhythms. What surprised me the most was seeing so many black people having job positions that I had never seen them doing in my country: cab drivers, construction workers, accountants, policeman and some even on national TV. I discovered

BET and I liked it. And those women! So beautiful, with so many different shades, haircuts and styles. Then I met a DJ working on a black radio station (something also new to me). DJ Chuck Chillout chaperoned my discovery of a blossoming culture in Hip Hop. My passion for DJ’ing evolved at the same pace as my interest for Black America. It’s so different from what the media chooses to broadcast. It pushed me to garner a Masters in Sociology, as well as wanting to share those observations through my freelance writing. This is how I met Reverend Fred Davie, whose multiple conversations helped me better understand the scope of

what Black America could come to be rather than the pop clichés. The Reverend declared that there wasn’t just one Black America. They spanned from Harlem to Brooklyn, the East Coast to the West, and most had their roots in the South and in the church. Other friends more in tune with Hip Hop, specifically the Haitian-American Celestin family, would broaden my view on what it is to be a black man in this country. These discussions also brought up questions within myself about how it is to be black and French. Now I am a true journalist. I am interviewing rap stars, witnessing the black entrepreneurial spirit that pumps from NYC, and hanging out with my people. My experiences with these men and women so deeply affect and shape me as a new man that when I go back to France, I feel as an outcast. I no longer feel at home there - no more images of black success, role models, beautiful black women, strong black men, a sense of Black pride and of community. None of this makes sense in my country and that makes us as “invisible” as Ralph Ellison once denounced. In France, I shrink like a live wire seeing my brothers and sisters with no sense of themselves in their eyes and their haircuts, but especially in our empty discussions. Whether we are from the Caribbean or Africa, France still never treated blacks with any respect. But Black Americans could lose their blackness since their ‘’American’’ tag gained them honor and respect in French society. America may have first discovered that we (French Blacks) exist when Newsweek put the French-Canadian

rapper MC Solaar in one of its issues back in the day. But it’s more than 10 years later, through an uprising from the poor and the frustrated, that the entire world discovered a new and “embarrassing” image of France far from that of the beret and baguette. Discrimination, social apartheid, racism and colonialism had taken their toll in the very country that touts the ideals of Liberty, Equality and Brotherhood. A hypocrisy slap right to the face. A lesson comparable to the Rodney King episode. I titled my book Les Suprêmes, la Révolution Vibracultic. It’s 360 pages that pay homage to all those doers of this incredible generation that have made an effort to create - placing a new culture under the international spotlight, expressing their conditions and overcoming “unbeatable” obstacles by reaching the highest point of international representation. These efforts have made them worldwide superstars. They have invented a new status, designed new inventions and generated new creators. This story is one of sacrifice, work, barriers, talent, violence, determination, success and a monumental energy that has helped me grow as a Frenchman. It’s a story that builds a new society where youth energy has become the norm. With the fibers of Black culture at the center of the modern world that effects everyone, in spite of the “exception culturelle”, the French are included. www.Les-Supremes.com

Il fait la geule!! As with any culture, there are certain gestures, pronunciations, and facial expressions that are unique to the French. These photos are actually stills from a video of this French man getting very passionate about distinguishing eroticism from pornography. He displayed a wide range of emotion over the course of a few minutes, the intensity was overwhelming. #2, # 3, and #4 are very typical French facial expressions. It’s somewhat of an odd crossbreed between a frown and smile. Certainly overused by many, this face functions to both disagree and agree with someone at the same time. Can be extremely confusing. #5 and #6 have something in common. The lips are pushed out forward to produce a sound that generally sounds like “behhh” or “euhhh”. This sound usually drags on for a couple seconds and eventually drains out. This

is a common theme in casual French conversation and can be used at any point during a dialogue. #7 and #8 illustrate a well-crafted look. Years of experience have clearly perfected this man’s technique. A heavy frown that develops into a deepseated eye-squeeze. This is a more customized look, but still undeniably French.

Words Thomas Subreville Photos Silvio Magaglio Everyone who has been in Paris recently has certainly encountered the tents set up on sidewalks throughout the streets. No, it isn’t the “Paris Plage” annex camping ground, and their inhabitants are not enjoying vacations, breathing in the fresh air mixed with the fumes of car exhaust. Those 300 tents were distributed last winter by Medecins Du Monde, a French humanitarian medical organization, to keep the homeless a little bit more away from the rude winter cold. In this particular campsite, campers come more from Eastern Europe than Scandinavia, the aperitif is taken with vitriolic wine in plastic bottles bought at the corner discount store, barbecues are made directly on the floor with tree branches, and people are wearing scuffed shoes not because of the laid back style, but because they are usually too small. This urban campsite has no kitchen sink to wash the dishes, no common bath, and no multi-use room to

organize sing alongs or arts and crafts. The tents appeared to be a great idea for everyone, until the spring came and the homeless didn’t want to move out. The Parisian residents quickly tired of seeing the homeless campers getting drunk, throwing their empty bottles into the street, and using the sidewalk as a restroom. But are the tents really the problem? Weren’t the homeless shitting before they got tents? No, the controversy is more due to the fact that every tent set up in Paris is in a way a flashing sign, reminding everyone that real misery is closer than we expect, even here at home in the sixth economic world power…

Words Thomas Subreville Photos Terence Hassen The Brothers Grimm were wrong! This old crackhead, Carabosse Fairy, was right! The king’s son was gay and the only dungeon he ever went to was in a BDSM club. The Sleeping Beauty is still sleeping, near Paris, right in the middle of the secret woods of Vincennes. She’s still waiting for the merchant prince, asleep on her golden stagecoach’s front seat, her fine legs spread at the wheel, enlightened by a rose flavour candle. Time has been flying. Today, creatures that haunt the forest are dressed in polyester tracksuits and get around by mountain bike as soon as the sun goes down. Henceforth, the merchant prince is called a “client” and the “kiss” to wake her up is now called a “20 Euro bill”.

Putting the L in Libertie Words William F. Striebe III Illustration C.R. While I’m sure most of you don’t need schooling on how to roll a joint, there’s a certain cognac sipping, café chillin’ “blahzay” to life in France that really gets the job done when it comes to kicking back, rolling one up and burning one down. While more famous for crushing grapes, the same grace and artistry can be enjoyed in every handcrafted French L. Here’s a step-by-step guide to getting lit in the city of lights.

1. Grab two rolling papers. Any kind will do, but Jokers are made in France.

2. Using the glue, connect two papers in an L shape.

3. Like wine it’s all about the flavor so go ahead and tear off any excess paper.

4. Crease the two papers lengthwise to give the L its form.

5. Since an all hash joint wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t burn, grab a cigarette.

6. If you put filters in your joint try some French colonial flavor with a Moroccan. Rip the tip off a cigarette and place it at the back of the joint.

7. Grab the remainder of the cigarette.

8. Rip open the cig.

9. Dump the tobacco in your hand and save it. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s going to be the bulk of your joint.

10. Contact your local Racailleso for a nice block of hash.

11. Apply some heat to a corner of the block and chip pieces into that pile of tobacco you saved.

12. Once you get a good ratio to guarantee elevation place your mix in your palm and lay down the paper over that.

13. Sandwich your hands together.

14. Now flip that shit.

15. Looks nice, non?

16. Spread the mix evenly along the paper.

17. Use your thumb and index finger to firmly pack the mix.

18. Start pinching and folding the paper over at the filter and travel up the L. This will give it a fat cone shape.

19. Once you get a tight roll, lay down the tongue.

20. First lick the glue that’s parallel to the joint.

21. Don’t stop pinching the joint at both ends since it’s so long it’s likely to spill. Instead seal the glue down with your chin.

22. Now seal that extra glue around the end of it.

23. Run a lighter over the joint to toast the hash but be careful not to prematurely light it.

24. Take the liberty to drop in more tobacco and hash via the open tip.

25. Twist the excess paper around at the top.

26. Voila, you got yourself a francofied L.

27. Fumer.

Words Stephan Armleder Photos Pierre Terrasson Hip Hop started in Sarcelles. While this might sound absolutely outrageous to approximately the whole world, anybody who grew up in France has no choice but to bow down to this. Cause we ain’t dealing with an opinion over here, we’re dealing with a fact. Oh, what the hell is Sarcelles, you ask? Sarcelles is a project north of Paris, France. A place you could say a lot of things about, but only one thing matters for now: Sarcelles is the home of Ministère A.M.E.R. Ministère A.M.E.R., that’s right. When talking French rap, people outside of France will usually mention MC Solaar, I Am, or maybe NTM. Well, sorry fellas, but FUCK that. The only group that counts when it comes to the foundations of French Hip Hop music is Ministère A.M.E.R. And that’s that. You see, “Le M.A.” embodied all the aspects that make Hip Hop the beautiful thing it is: charisma, rawness, humor, style, an image, hot beats, haunting voices, dope lyrics. Unlike

most of the French Hip Hop acts at that time (early to mid-90s), Ministère A.M.E.R had that swagger. The swagger that makes kids dream, the swagger that makes me still love Hip Hop like when I was a kid (and I’m close to 30). The swagger that makes you think, “shit, I wanna be like them!” You had Stomy Bugsy, the handsome gangsta of love with a high pitched voice, who could kill a cop in one verse and flirt with a lady cop in the next one. He’s kind of a cross between Tupac, Eazy-E, Roger Rabbit, and Frank Sinatra. Then there’s Passi, the hardcore brother with a don’t give a fuck meets social awareness attitude. You had their infamous manager, Kenzy, a French equivalent

to Suge Knight if you will. And like every legendary crew they had the extended crew including Doc Gyneco who later had one of the highest selling (and easily one of the best) French rap albums ever, Première Consultation. What made Ministère A.M.E.R. different from other rap acts at that time? Oh, a lot of things. A lot of real good things. They were the first rappers to really claim a hood, their hood, Sarcelles. And while NWA put Compton on the map in the US, Ministère A.M.E.R. put all ghettos of France on the map. Cause along with claiming their hood, they opened the doors for all the other rappers out there to rep theirs. There was no such thing as “claiming a hood” in France before Ministère A.M.E.R. came through with a bang. Unlike other groups active at that time, Ministère A.M.E.R. had their own style, their own identity. Most Hip Hop groups at that time were trying to recycle the NYC rap image. But French rappers on some “true Hip Hop” shit didn’t add up. Muthufuckaz were trying to look like New York, flow like New York, and it failed miserably. Ministère A.M.E.R wasn’t on that lame shit. They were West Coast influenced, no doubt. NWA and Above The Law fans, obviously. But they weren’t swagger jacking the Cali G’s. Nope. They took NWA and made it apply to their people. They took Efil4zaggin and made it 95200. They made that gangsta shit sound oh so French. It wasn’t a carbon copy like it was for all the other Hip Hop groups in France. You could never catch them trying to

battle the imaginary mc, or do the hoodpoet shit Solaar was doing. Stomy and Passi spoke with Sarcelles slang; they spoke about problems in France. They represented the minorities in France like nobody had done before. They did it with humor, intelligence and a whole lot of controversy. They stirred the perfect brew between entertainment and music with a social message. The way they dressed and their image was also a big part of their aura. While every rapper in Paris was lost rocking Karl Kani and Timberlands, Ministère A.M.E.R. were on some white Reeboks, Levi’s jeans and polo shirts. They were rocking what kids in French ghettos were rocking. Fuck trying to look like Das Efx. Stomy and Passi were “La France” that cats outside the ghettos didn’t know about. They were the first cats in the music industry rocking LaCoste and white sneakers. The shit thugs in France still wear to this day. Back when I was a Euro kid in love with Hip Hop, every rapper in the U.S. had a different style, a different city to rep, a different attitude. You couldn’t confuse Ice Cube with De La Soul or Slick Rick with 2 Live Crew and so on. It was like a huge video game with a different boss at the end of each level. It was the shit and that’s why I was attracted to it. French Hip Hop was just a bunch of fuckin’ NY replicas, boring as hell. Why fuck with it when you can get the real deal in the States? All that changed when Ministère A.M.E.R. shocked the world and made French Hip Hop attractive. Fuck it, they made French Hip Hop, period. The game has never been the same since then. Hip Hop started in Sarcelles, fool!

Unsubmissive Marseille Photos Christelle Boulais In 1481, the Provence state is linked to France, including the city of Marseille. Since that time, Marseille has always been considered different from the other cities in France for many reasons. Their laid back Mediterranean way of life, their strong accent, and their unique slang have always helped Marseille stand apart from the rest. Marseille gave their name to the national anthem, were the original “French Connection” since the 50s, and were the only city to organize “anti-France” demonstrations because their soccer team was downgraded for economic reasons. The home of numerous esteemed French artists, Marseille will forever be the Paris rival. Marseille will never be the French capital, but who cares? That just wouldn’t be Marseille.

Words + Images Tabatha McGurr I was born in the South of France because my Mom is French, but I was raised in Brooklyn because my Dad is a New Yorker. My Mom had already been living in Brooklyn for about six years but I guess she wanted me born close to her home. Either way I grew up saying stuff like, “Yo dawgs, ca va?” and, “Salut, whats up?” There aren’t a lot of French people in New York; I was always the only one at school. During history class the teacher would always ask me to pronounce the French words and everyone was really hyped on that. When I was a kid, being French in New York and being American in France really sucked. Young Americans I grew up with (before it became hip to be worldly) would call me shit like frog and French toast. I didn’t really care. These aren’t really hurtful insults. Oh wow, I’m a sweet piece of breakfast

bread; you’re really messing with my feelings right now. Regardless, it was annoying. I dealt with it well because I have a good sense of humor. When I would go to France for two months every summer, the kids in my summer camp looked up to me,

but hated on me as well. They would ask me, “Do you eat hamburgers all the time?” So I forced myself not to eat in front of them. They were all so stupid and wore generic t-shirts with American graphics that said shit like “the flowers in the world make me dance with you” and other things that didn’t even make sense. When France won the soccer World Cup some years back I was so excited. I was running up and down the camp and screaming, “We won! Allez les bleus!” The kids looked at me and said, “No, WE won.” I was heartbroken. Now I can handle my double nationality. I realized how cool some French girls are compared to most American girls. They’re very sexy and manipulative from a young age. And even though naïve, they think in dastardly and intriguing ways. They don’t spend hours doing

their makeup and thousands pumping their tits. They’re just naturally hot. I also discovered that the mentality of New Yorkers (can’t speak for the rest of America) is much better then that of the French. French people are so snobby and stupid sometimes. They just hang out with their noses in the air talking shit about how fat everyone in America is. Well sorry, France, but while you were drinking café au lait and smoking cigarettes, 300 McDonald’s opened up and now you guys are fat too. The French/American culture barrier in today’s society is basically only made up of a few things. The politics are different, sex is viewed differently, pizza is better over here, and Paris is a prettier city than New York. In the end, I’m a New York M.O.B. girl, but the language, seduction and crepes with Nutella I will never leave behind.

Jessica Dalpiaz in the Nels.

Embry Rucker photo coalheadwear.com

Rude

The Chinese created gunpowder, the aerosol can came out of Norway and Americans brought the Big Mac. Frank teamed up with a few French artists to help illustrate some of France’s contributions to the list of famous inventions. They may not have thought up the Chalupa, or pogs, but this collection deserves a little respect. Cola Noriega was a punk. Escobar didn’t move shit. Scarface who? 150 years ago a man by the name of Angelo Mariani created the international cocaine market. A Corsican chemist, Mariani became familiar with the drug’s potent effects after reading a paper by the well traveled anthropologist, Paolo Mantegazza, who had witnessed the use of cocaine during a visit to Peru. No surprise, he immediately fell in love with the drug. Mariani’s interest inspired him to create Vin Mariani, the foundation for the world’s first cola. Then called a cocawine, Vin Mariani was a mixture of Bordeaux wine and coca plant leaves. The two main chemical compounds found in coca leaves, benzoylecgonine and ecgonine methyl ester, have no psychoactive properties without a catalyst. Mixing the leaves with alcohol produces cocaethylene, similar to cocaine, though longer lasting. The original Vin Mariani recipe yielded 6 milligrams of cocaethylene per fluid ounce of wine. Mariani’s exported cocawine, however, contained 7.2 milligrams of cocaethylene per fluid ounce in order to compete with the growing American cocawine market. And compete he did. As

the inventor of the potent potable, many consider Angelo Mariani the first cocaine millionaire. He even had his share of celebrity endorsements. Queen Victoria admittedly enjoyed the cocktail, as did writers Jules Verne and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as former President William McKinley. Pope Leo XIII even awarded it a Vatican gold medal and appeared on a poster advertising the concoction. In 1884 American pharmacist John S. Pemberton copied Mariani’s original brew to create his own product, “Pemberton’s French Wine Coca.” One year later, a prohibition law passed in Pemberton’s home county of Fulton, in Atlanta, Georgia, forced him to remove the alcohol from his beverage. The result was Coca-Cola. Coca, because it still contained coca leave extract, and Cola for the use of Kola nuts which added flavor and caffeine. Seltzer was also blended in to rival other fountain drinks like root beer and ginger ale. Presently, the Coca-Cola company will not admit that its product ever contained coca extract and the Vatican can’t seem to remember ever supporting Vin Mariani.

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Formule De Politesse Guillotine The Guillotine actually has its origins in earlier inventions. England had a similar execution device called the Halifax Gibbet. Also in Ireland there was use of a device named the Scottish Maiden dating back to the 15th century. However, the device received its name and became infamous during the French revolution when Dr. Joseph-Ignace Guillotine suggested a more efficient way of beheading that didn’t involve a sword or axe. During the “Reign of Terror” in 1793 Maximilien Robespeirre displayed a blatant abuse of power and used the guillotine to make himself the most feared man in French Government.

Croissant The Croissant is another seemingly French product that is shrouded in myth. The most popular story behind its creation suggests that the croissant may actually be a by-product of the Austrian “beef” with the Turkish Empire. The bakers of Vienna ratted out the Turkish soldiers who were plotting under the city, where the bakers worked. After that they decided to make this fluffy buttery bread in the shape of a crescent moon, the symbol of the Turkish flag. Talk about insult to injury. Later on the Austrian Princess, Marie Antoinette, married French ruler Louis XVI and brought the bread to the attention of the French aristocrats.

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After that it was a wrap and Croissants blew up in France, becoming a national product. Who knew revenge could be so fluffy and buttery. The patience and skill required to properly create these doughy treats is a tradition that has now been capitalized or “Americanized” as it were. Now frozen, mass produced versions of the product can be found in grocery stores all over the world. The true recipe, however, remains a delicacy held strong by only the most dedicated of pastry chefs.

Minitel The people at America Online are obviously a bunch of biters. After the Internet boom in the 90s took the world by storm, it was easy to forget that the French were on the email tip in the early 80s. Sending mail, checking stocks, buying train tickets, and arranging sexual encounters - all these were and continue to be available on France’s MINITEL system. Boasting over six million operating terminals at its peak in the late 90s, the system has obviously had a profound effect on the digital landscape (maybe).

Dirloz Bidet Bidet is the French word for “pony”. And as soon as you try this invention you will wanna ride it all day, quite literally. Basically the story goes that a bunch of furniture makers, possibly from the French Royal Family, created this device somewhere in the late 17th century. Used primarily for the cleansing of one’s nether regions, the comedy behind the device may not have clicked immediately as it wasn’t even moved into the bathroom until 1900. Until then it generally resided in the bedroom and may have been a

tad too social for a modern audience. Now-a-days bidets can be found in a cornucopia of different styles, including new versatile bidets with options for pressure and nozzle shape. All new technology is being used to make bidets as efficient and effective as possible, while still clinging to the French tradition of elegance and dignity.

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Words Adam Pasulka Photos Todd Nisbet Image is expensive. Grey Goose vodka, a product of France, was invented by American liquor mogul Sidney Frank in 1996. Frank elevated Grey Goose to the top shelf of America’s liquor cabinet in less than 10 years and made himself one of the country’s 200 richest after selling it to Bacardi in 2004 for $2.2 billion. Frank accomplished this by backing the beverage with a brilliant marketing campaign and charging more per bottle than its competitors. The difference was all profit. He understood that many Americans feel better about a product when they’re paying more for it. Labeling it a product of France also leads consumers to believe that it tastes better, when in fact a good vodka is odorless and tasteless. Many other American invented, French distilled liquors have had similar success stories in the States. So why is it that no one drinks them in France? G “The Street Smart” and Chaze founded the French graffiti crew Grim Team in the early 90s. Both members grew up in Paris, and were drawn to New York Hip Hop. Adopting the ethos of street entrepreneurship, the two have expanded the Grim Team roster and branched out into photography, graphic design, music and fashion. G and Chaze decided to leave Europe and take their hustle to New York City in 2001. Pushing their new line of tees and hats, as well as producing tracks for rappers N.O.R.E., Saigon, Kool G Rap and others, they’ve been hard working transplants. Perplexed by the French liquor craze, Grim Team took Frank151 to Sales Price Liquor Corp in New York’s Lower East Side, and helped to set the record straight on why Grey Goose is for the birds, and

give us the low down on what the French really drink. Grim Team: Supposedly Grey Goose vodka and Alizé are French. That’s why Americans buy it. But when you go to a liquor store in Paris you’re not going to find Grey Goose. If you go to clubs in France and ask for Grey Goose, they won’t know it. Vodka is from Russia and Poland and shit! The French don’t make vodka. That’s like trying to sell Russian croissants. We make French wine, champagne and cognac. And then you’ve got Alizé. It’s a mix between cognac and juice or something. You don’t find Alizé in the stores over there. It’s the same shit. I guess when you put ‘A French Product’ on it, that shit sells in America.

In France we drink wine when we go to restaurants. It’s a popular drink when you eat, or for a lunch break. A nice bottle of wine. Red wine with red meat, or white wine with fish. Over there we drink strong liquor, like Hennessy. We drink what we like and what makes us fucked up. A lot of people in France like gin, too, as well as vodka and champagne. As for vodka, we drink a lot of types, Smirnoff, Belvedere, but not Grey Goose. If you ask for any kind of champagne in France, they have it, of course. Most of the time they don’t really carry Cristal. Most of the people, if they want to “bling bling” in France, it’s champagne. You’ve got the Dom Pérignon and Laurent Perrier, but Moet & Chandon is the most popular. The

high-class champagne is a pink one, Roederer. It’s like another brand of Dom Pérignon. It’s all the same. Moet & Chandon, Cristal, Dom Pérignon is all the same company. Roederer too. They run different brands. In America we drink strong alcohol when we go out. In the clubs we drink Hennessy, cognac, Jack D. But next time we see N.O.R.E. drinking Grey Goose, we’ll ask him, “Why are you drinking that?!” You’ve been warned, America. Just because your favorite rapper drinks it, or it’s expensive, or it’s French, doesn’t mean it’s good. Do your research, but above all, drink what tastes good, and drink what you like. GrimTeam.us

Words Heron Preston Photos Terence Hassen Before moving to France, I had never traveled the world.  I had been to a couple states, but never needed a passport.  When I touched down in Paris in January 2006 it was time to grind.  I arrived for a semester abroad. I was on a solo mission with a freshness and curiosity for the world. Curiosity for things I’ve always heard about, and seen on television but never really touched. That curiosity encouraged me to see and learn even more, and made the Porte de Clignancourt market the go-to spot for my ass to escape the bourgeoisie scene of Parsons Paris. My girl Annilese from Parsons was the one who first sparked my interest with the market upon my move to Paris. She and all of her international girlfriends would rock their fur coats on the daily, wear their luxury brand sunglasses and smoke their cigarettes in the outdoor space of school between classes. You know the type - rich international girls. Grew up somewhere like Brazil, Saudi Arabia, or Spain and can speak French, English and sometimes Spanish if they are real ill. They can also fly to Virginia to hang out with their boyfriend for the weekend and be back in Paris just in time for class Monday morning. But it wasn’t long until the fur lifestyle started to rub off on me. Annilese told

me the market was the place I should look for a Heron fur. Me in a fur coat, cold pimpin’ in Paris during the winter season was a must. For those of you that are not aware of Pt. de Clignancourt, it’s an outdoor market only open on Monday and the weekends. It would take the average shopper about three to four days to actually get through. The market sells everything from street food, to antiques, to leathers, furs and army surplus. They have a vintage section with booths full of what the old Paris had to offer. A mile’s worth of sneakers like Puma, Nike and Adidas line a street just on the edge of the market. There’s

also a ghetto indoor mall, which is always fun to walk through. I’m a huge fan of hood fashions because most are so beyond ridiculous that you just gotta love them. What drove my fascination with Pt. de Clignancourt was not the shopping — because no, I did not find the fur that I was after - but the experience that came along with it. It was getting to interact, see and hear a new array of pure flavor.  Flavor like the French speaking North Africans and the hood chicks from places like Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco, Lebanon and Egypt.  I’m a sucker for a hot ghetto chick, but when she’s French with an Arabic background and can hardly speak English, you might as well give up ever trying to wife an American girl again.  It’s like Fordham Road in the Bronx or Fulton Street in Brooklyn, but instead, all the chicks and dudes are speaking French and wearing their wallets around their necks in Louis Vuitton pouches. Yes, because of the craze pick pocket scene, dudes rock all their valuables around their necks hanging just amid their chest. NYC’s staple street shoe is the Air Force 1, but Paris does it old school with the Nike Air Max 90.  The sophistication of the French language mixed with the Arab and African hood is priceless.  Located on the last stop of metro line 4, the market is another world that the typical posh of Paris does not offer. Right when you walk upstairs from the station, the energy hits you. You’ve just entered a Mecca of culture and business.  On the streets you have cats hustling fake D&G wallets, hash, mix tapes from NYC and leather

jackets made by companies called “100% Real Leather”. Then there’s the huge crowd of Africans and Arabs just hanging out, because there’s a McDonalds on one corner, and a KFC on the other. Then you got the dudes trying to lure you into their booths to buy shit, but all you gotta say to them is simply, “je n’aime pas”, which means, “I don’t like it”, to set them straight. It’s dope to see some of the local people setting up shop selling their clothes, like the immigrants who get it hard in Paris, for being, well… being themselves. If you can remember the riots in Paris by the youth from up north last year, then you should have an understanding of how the minorities in Paris are treated and how racist the country can be. With Politicians like Le Pen, Paris is too restricting on its immigrants. They have strict, bureaucratic authoritative control over what you do and have too many rules that make it impossible to get anything done, especially if you have some melanin working on your side. It’s so discouraging to the point that people jump the boat and hop on over to Pt. de Clignancourt where there is less authoritative control, allowing them to do much more of what they want, and operate as they please.

Operating in a freeform is what brings that special energy to North Paris every Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I think this Winter I’ll hit the market again, but this time for ill leather. I’m down for priceless flavors, so as long as Paris keeps my blood pumping fresh, you might continue to find me out there from time to time on that solo grind.

Words Karim Boukercha Photos Wallid Kafari & Azyle Punition (or Punishment in English) - The same tag repeatedly aligned in columns on a subway car. That’s the definition. As to its origins, it appeared for the first time in the Parisian Metro at the beginning of the 90s, but no one really knows where it came from. There are photos of punishments in the benchmark book Subway Art, but after that, partly because of the lack of archives, it becomes difficult to know who took over the torch. Sheek has done punishments, Fame as well. Somewhat later, but still in the 90s, crews such as VEP, FG and DKC, among others, continued the practice. Yet, the only one who made this procedure his trademark is still one of the most active writers today, none other than Azyle. We met up with him so that he could enlighten us on the subject. Frank151: What’s the origin of the term “la punition”? Azyle: I really don’t know, it wasn’t me that started calling what I’m doing punishment. To me, it would probably be in the sense that I made the impression of punishing the metro by bombing it to the max. For others it was tied to the punishments that you get at school when you are a kid. Writing columns on the blackboard: “I promise to never insult my teacher again, I promise to never…” Some people even took the piss out of me, they would laughingly ask, “Oh, Azyle, been punished again?” To me the two definitions go hand in hand. F151: When was the first time that you heard of “punishment”? A: Before I started doing punishments I had never heard of them before.

Later someone told me that there was a photo of a punishment in Subway Art, so I guess I am not the inventor. Besides, a practice can have several creators. The first time I did one (at the beginning of the 90s) it just came to me. I had not seen another one in the metro that I used as my blueprint or that triggered me. I was just writing and all of a sudden the idea came to me, just like it must have come to someone else in New York a few years prior to that. F151: How did the idea develop? A: It comes from the white space on the main body of the subway cars. The “blanks” annoyed me. As a result my goal became to fill the cars until there was no more room. “There are blanks, I have to fill them.” I have understood these unconscious reasons with time.

Back then it was mainly something I did to outshine the other writers. I wanted to make sure there would be no more space for them, and that would shock them when they saw my train pass by. I wanted to look at my subway cars and tell myself, “No, I couldn’t have punished them any more.” I would leave the train depot, not because I didn’t want to write more, but because I could not write more. The satisfaction of a work well done. You have to look at this in the context of the times, back then there were lots of us doing just tags, you had to find something to stand out and counter the competition. When I started doing punishments, there were lots of writers with remarkable styles. It was hard to get people to talk about my style, which wasn’t very developed at the time. This technique allowed me to stand out and to make a name out of my style. F151: Did other people do punishments at the same time to compete against you? A: Let’s put it this way, the term was accredited to me with time since I did nothing but punishments. Some writers attempted similar techniques, but at the time it was more common to write all over the ream when you wanted to spread out as much as possible. There were some amazing trains on which writers such as Strat and Duel, and the 93MC, among others, used this practice. But I can’t recall anyone else who went all the way doing nothing but punishments. At that time a lot of writers started doing graffiti in order to be different from the masses; in addition to that, graffiti was seen as more of an accomplishment and nobler than tags in the collective

conscious. To me, continuing to do tags in that way (taking up as much space as a graffiti piece) was a way to show them. There were also logistical reasons that pushed me in that direction. At the time I was a minor and my parents were on my back about various arrests. I would steal my ink and my markers, and could hide them pretty easily, which was not the case when I had bombs. I don’t think I could have ever been a graffiti artist... I love writing, not coloring. Punishments are also the pleasure of writing. F151: Don’t you have the impression of stagnating by always doing the same thing? A: No, because to me there is always progress as far as the composition is concerned. This is what has moved me forward toward saturations (superposition of tags) instead of punishments. But it’s true that back then I threw myself in this direction because it made me the talk of the town. Perhaps this stopped me from discovering other things. In some ways, it’s the way people reacted to what I did that made me continue doing the same thing and to consequently develop my own identity. F151: What are the connections between punishments and saturations? A: The thought of always doing more. I found a way to blow people’s minds even more, to make the visual shock greater. What will be the next level? I don’t know yet, just like I didn’t know what would come next before I discovered saturation through practice…

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Interview Thomas Subreville Photos Goyard Whether it’s bags, purses, suitcases, backpacks, or a hobo’s bindle stick - before becoming luxurious show accessories, luggage was designed to be a useful and practical tool for all types of travelers, from the wanderers to the elite. During the mid-19th century, we began to see the rise of railroads and transcontinental voyages along with “specialized design houses”, in which custom fabrication was undertaken by the finest carpenters, harness makers, saddlers, leather artisans, and craftsmen of the day. By showing off these beautiful bags and cases, wealthy people were able to travel with a status symbol that helped to identify which class they belonged to, and displayed just how rich they were. French design houses such as Vuitton and Hermès used these products as a foundation for the establishment of their brands. One brand stands out amongst the high-end French luggage makers, boasting the longest history. Although lesser known to the general public, the highly regarded Goyard company was the first of such design houses, and over 150 years later is still family owned and unanimously considered the doyen. Created by Edmé and François Goyard in 1853, one solid year before competitor Vuitton started, the “Maison Goyard” has been the travel companion of many celebrities for over 150 years, including: Sarah Bernhardt, Sacha Guitry, John Rockefeller, the Great Duke of Russia, Kapurthala’s Maharajah, César Ritz, and the Duchesse of Windsor. Originally from Burgundy, the Goyard family specialized

in the floating wood industry. Crafting some of the finest bags and cases became a natural extension of their business. During this time in France, while making boxes as equipment for coaches and barouches, François Goyard decided to move the company and open a store at 223 rue Saint Honoré in Paris, where the shop still stands today. In 1892, his son Edmond decided to create a monogram in order to help Goyard stand out from the many competitors in Paris. The “YY” pattern he chose evokes the Goyard name and the tree symbol. This monogram pattern soon became their trademark. Thanks to the family’s experience in raft wood, he added waterproof lining (in cotton, linen or hemp), and covered the packs and bags in a monogram made with hand applied interlaced herringbone patterns.

Goyard’s reputation has been helped by their special orders and customized objects, including: Sherlock Holmes author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s travel desk, and more recently the “Tools Travel Case” of award winning Chef Alain Ducasse, as well as French publisher Assouline’s “Travel Library”. Goyard developed co-brandings with some other companies during th the 20 century in order to put their famous YY on new products. They formed a partnership with the famous coachbuilders J. Rothschild and Sons, worked with Rheims & Auscher to equip the body of cars like Bugatti, Delahaye, Voisin and Delage. Air France even asked them to create a special range of suitcases and bags. Today, traveling with luggage made by

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any one of these old world brands is one of the most prominent statements of wealth – certainly not many people can afford a $2,000 suitcase. In this day and age, the right monogram is just as important as having and displaying watches or jewels made by renowned luxury manufacturers. Even if these brands are no longer exclusive to a certain kind of customer “the most Bourgeois of the Bourgeois” – they have done well to contribute to the worldwide exportation of French products. Similar to the Grand Crus of Bordeaux, the Roger Excoffon fonts “à la française” in the 50s, or the famous Yves Saint Laurent tweed suits, the rich heritage of Goyard has contributed greatly to the image of the French as world class purveyors of luxury goods.

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Inteview Thomas Subreville Photos Sebastien Michelini As soon as the old stereotypes have their backs turned, luxury and street cultures hasten to flirt together. Whether or not high end luxury brands accept it, their products have been embraced as a part of street culture. Today in France, a new generation of designer challenges the notions of what a luxury product can be. Frank151 spoke with Jacques Ferrand, a designer who is merging the ancestral French “savoir faire” with elements of street and skate culture to create a new type of high end product. Frank151: How much can we put in the bag in the picture? Jacques Ferrand: I would say something like five million Euros in stacks of €500 bills. That’s enough, you just have to make neat little piles. Otherwise, you can put a lot more in diamonds. F151: What type of gun is that? Do you plan to make holsters too? JF: That’s a 357 Magnum CTG, the same as DeNiro in Taxi Driver, but more for French people. Less loud, but just as effective. As for holsters, I didn’t plan it yet, I have no friends in the police and the last real gangster that I knew disappeared. We only found his clothes.

F151: Where did the idea of making luxury skateboards come from? JF: I’ve always had skateboard decks in my workshop, so it’s normal that I also put some in the stores. It’s also a way to show all the different types of materials we use. I’ve been skating for 18 years now, and I work with these materials everyday. It was obvious for me that I had to mix my two principal pastimes - sheathing skateboard decks with crocodile, ostrich, goat or calfskin. F151: So, do you plan on making gold curbs and silk shoes to skate them? JF: <<Laughs>> Actually, I plan to make a satin skatepark with velvet components

and Asian masseuses wearing thongs that would bring you serviettes with “Ets Ferrand” embroidered with gold threads, while serving you glasses of champagne on a silver tray. F151: What other types of “modern” articles did you make? JF: In the past, they used to make “pomponettes” - toilet, manicure, or couture sets. No one cares about this type of product any more; we’re all attracted by the latest hi-tech gadgets.

My job enables me to make holders for all those kinds of products. Most of the luxury brands are making iPod holders only for marketing reasons. Personally, I do it because I use all these things in my everyday life. I’ve created leather or crocodile holders for the iPod, PSP, Blackberry and a few trendy cell phones. That’s a natural approach, to adapt my work to today’s market. F151: More globally, you mix an ancient “savoir faire” with more modern cultures. Growing up in France, that’s also a natural approach, right? JF: Yes, in France we’ve the good luck to have access to custom luxury goods, and to have access to all those “savoir faires”. Most of the creative people of my generation are painters, graphic

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designers, photographers, or whatever. Well, I make handbags! France is the only place where you can learn all those “savoir faires” and mix them with our street culture. I just turned 30 and I’m still a teenager in my mind. I love luxury and fine things as much as I love to hang out with my homies. F151: So don’t you think the general image of the leather goods business in France has to be refreshed a bit? JF: That’s true, I don’t like that solemn aspect of the actual luxury industry. In fact, they only try to put your cash in their pockets. I think that we can still build good quality products with the old methods, and be fresh at the same time. The problem is that all the old luxury institutions have a 100 year old image to respect, and it is hard to update your products without destroying your heritage. F151: In America or Japan, all those institutions are more and more in contact with the urban cultures, through the rappers or skaters for example. It looks like that idea is still a little bit taboo in France, that there is a certain heritage to conserve…. JF: In France, we tend to be a little bit too much into “navel gazing”. Admittedly, we have our past history and the entire heritage that comes with it, but sometimes you have to stop sleeping on your own skills. You remember that David LaChapelle photo with Lil Kim completely covered in the Vuitton monogram? That perfectly illustrates the lack of cultural exchange between France and the USA or Japan. They’re all doing their business over there, and keeping France as a cultural “window display”.

F151: Why can we say that the French are still the best at producing leather goods? JF: That’s a “savoir faire” and heritage story. We’ve kept all the fabrication methods and a good knowledge of these handcrafted techniques. For example, at Hermès, workers are

still doing bags from A to Z and they can spend 20 hours on the same article. On the other hand, Vuitton industrialized their products while keeping a very good quality. At this level of the game, we can say that the French are still the best.

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An American In Paris Words Mathieu Berenholc Images Courtesy of Jim Haynes We wish Jim Haynes was our grandfather because this 70-somethingyear-old man has had the craziest and most interesting life in the world. Jim Haynes loves to love. He is into sexual freedom, good books and fine food. Maybe that’s why he loves to live in Paris. He was a leading figure in the European counter-culture scene of the 60s. Born in 1933 in Louisiana, he lost his virginity “around 12” in some Venezuelan brothel. He would later head to Scotland where he helped in the foundation of the Traverse Theatre and the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. In the middle of the “swinging 60s”, he relocated to London and founded UFO (the Underground Freak Out club) where Pink Floyd and Soft Machine were the house bands, the alternative paper International Times (known as I.T.), and the Arts Lab space for mixed-media (where his good friends John and Yoko had a few exhibitions). In ‘69 in Amsterdam, he launched Suck, a newspaper for sexual freedom and the Wet Dreams Festival to “encourage erotic film-making”. Over the next 30 years Haynes would write countless books, while also

teaching Media Studies and Sexual Politics at the University of Paris 8, where he still lives and gives weekly Sunday dinner in his charming house full of great books, strange liquors and beautiful women. Frank151: How are you doing Jim? Jim Haynes: Good, but sorry I just woke up, seven women slept at my house last night. Two from Thailand, friends of my son, Jesper Haynes, who’s a photographer in NYC but spends a lot of time in Bangkok. One Russian woman who is living here right now, she’s studying French and has a job at the Ritz Hotel. Three other Russian women, I only knew the daughter but she came with her sister and mother this time. And then there’s a woman that’s half-Philippine and half-American, and I don’t know how she got here! <<Laughs>> She’s here for a week.

F151: Enough room for everybody? JH: I have three floors, four coaches, and I don’t need any intimacy. My friend who’s a poet in London said, “We were alone for nine months in our mother’s womb, that’s enough,” and I agree. F151: Why do you like living in Paris? JH: First I like this house, it was a workshop and I managed to buy it and I have lived very happily in this house, and of course I shared it with as many people as I could, some I know some

just lasted three years. Problem was, believe it or not, I’m not really interested in pornography. Erotica is much more subtle. There’s a fine line but it’s a very important line. I was influenced by Wilhelm Reich and Alfred Kinsey, they were analyzing how sexual repression is linked with fascism. And it still is in fundamentalism. Today, Islam, Judaism, Catholicism, Hinduism are terrified with sexuality. Today this girl from Tchetchenia was

The three women that were here last night, I never saw them in my life. I don’t know. The three women that were here last night, I never saw them in my life. I gave them keys and told them, “Make yourself at home.” F151: But what brought you to Paris? JH: I always joke and say I was running from Scotland Yard, and that’s a little bit true because when I was in London in 1969, I was running a newspaper for sexual freedom called Suck, and of course Scotland Yard closed our English office after the first issues. Then I was offered a professorship at Paris 8 University. I had no desire to teach but this was supposed to be free, experimental, innovative and blah blah blah. They let me teach what I wanted to, so I chose Media Studies and Sexual Politics. F151: Was it risky to openly talk about sex at the end of the 60s in France? JH: The only places that were free were Denmark and Holland. I directed a film festival in Amsterdam that was called the Wet Dreams Festival to encourage erotic filmmaking. But it

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beaten up because she slept with a Russian soldier, she was shaved and beaten and lost her child. F151: What do you believe in? JH: Good food, good sex, good times! I don’t believe in organized religions. We have no idea why we’re on earth, who’s god’s god? My religion is to enjoy myself and not to hurt anybody else. Fortunately in Paris you can eat what you want, drink what you want and live your sex life how you want to. It’s pretty free. F151: What do you think about the French people’s sexuality? JH: I don’t think in terms of nationality, for me every person is a country, categorizing is a way of building walls and I want to knock down the walls. My sexual experiences in France were generally good, but I don’t know France, I know Paris and I think women in Paris are more liberated than in many other places in the world, except for Russia. People have a very good sex life in Russia. Sexuality for me has to be

tactile, touch each other, that’s why I like the kissing on the cheeks in France. F151: Do you have a particular sexuality? JH: I was trying to make everything possible for other people and at the same time live my own dreams and desires. F151: What were your dreams and desires? JH: Well, in fact, in one sense, it’s private, in another sense I’m totally unashamed. I happened to be intellectually bisexual because I love my male friends and I happened to have sex with other men, but I prefer to sleep with a man and a woman, three, I like three. I did it many times and I liked it. I also like two women, and I like just one woman too. F151: And do you like 20 people? JH: Yes, I’ve done that, I’m not particularly into that, but it’s been fun.

about orgasm. Orgasm is nice, but just hugging and being tender with an unlimited number of people, unlimited affection. I wrote a book called More Romance Less Romanticism. I’ve never been jealous or possessive, if I love you, I know I can not fulfill all of your needs, but I want all of your needs to be fulfilled. Therefore if you need another person, great! I think romantic love is unfair to both parties. The world needs more, not less affection. I think we’re programmed for marriage and children by our rulers, because they want more people to rule. I have a son, but I think we launch our children like an arrow. I get nervous with possessive pronouns - my son, my wife, my car, my house. My, my, my. F151: There’s a long tradition of the American writer living in Paris, do you think you tried to live that fantasy? JH: When I first came to Paris I remember being invited on a TV

I prefer to sleep with a man and a woman, three, I like three. I did that in Paris, London, Amsterdam and California in the 60s and 70s. Today I’m not into those experiences anymore for various reasons, I’m a little bit more, I don’t know, I like being in my own house and bed. F151: “Free your ass and your mind will follow,” was George Clinton, right? JH: I don’t know, I think there is no formula. Certain people thought the formula was LSD, sexuality, or pop music. I don’t think there is a formula. Everyone gets to their own bliss in their own way. For me sexuality means being tactile, I’m not talking particularly

program about American writers in Paris. They had Henry Miller, Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and me. That was very flattering, and very funny because I don’t consider myself as a writer, I never wrote any novels, I write essays. So I said okay, but my French was so bad, it still is, but at that time it was terrible and I would hate to see the footage now. But, no, I don’t think I’m fulfilling any role. I’m unique as everyone else is unique. F151: How was Paris when you arrived? JH: It was very poor, prices were low, you could eat a meal or buy this house

for nothing. The bourgeois-ization of the city is ongoing. There is a line which is approximately the number 4 metro line, everything west is bourgeois, and everything east used to be popular but now tends to become richer, driving people out of the city. F151: Why did you stay here? JH: I always felt being a part of a world culture, instead of American culture. I planned to stay a year and I’ve been here for 35 years now cause I love the city for many reasons. One is I love to walk in Paris because the car never changed the city, our mayor is doing something against the automobile and that’s great.

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It’s also a good location in the center of Europe, and I like café life and I love the restaurants. I loved La Coupole, I used to go there almost every night but now they’ve changed. I don’t care about fancy restaurants, I like neighborhood restaurants where I know people and people know me, then I’m happy. F151: Do you like red wine? JH: I think wine is bullshit, I don’t like expensive stuff, I have very simple tastes. I like rum and I like strange Balkan, Greek and Russian drinks. F151: Hope, sex, drugs - your generation had everything. Then most of you

changed in the 80s, became greedy, and left us a shitty world and your great memories. What went wrong? JH: What happened with the 60s is that we were promising so much, and then we couldn’t deliver it. The expectation level was very high - great sex, great drugs, great music - and then the people died or became rich, so I’ll try not to paint the picture too rosy. I have my “Jim’s Law of Rising and Falling Expectations”. If I tell you this girl is fantastic, you’ll have expectations, the more I tell you about this book or movie or person, you’ll have expectations. But if I tell you it’s just okay, then you can have your own opinion.

I had a great time and when I look back on it, I was a great entrepreneur. I created a bookshop, a theater, a gallery, magazines, festivals, books, I did many things. But when I say “I”, of course we were a bunch of people. But I’m living in the present. Maybe it’s too easy for me now, maybe I should move to Calcutta. I’m 73 now but I feel 37. We all change, we get older, dumber, smarter. I think I’m evolving, but I’m following the same road I’ve been on since the 50s.

If you’re coming to Paris, write to Jim, and book a reservation to have Sunday dinner with him. Jim-Haynes.com

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Stickers Trade Words Thomas Subreville Whom child that grew up in France between the 70s and the 90s has never done a tantrum to get the precious two francs to go to the corner’s tabac store and buy a Panini stickers pack? Always hoping to find the missing gem to fill the central spread of the album. Every single kid was ready to kill to get that one, no business ethic. The other vignettes, the “doubles” as we used to call them, were swapped during the recesses trade fair: “I give you Litovchenko and Gotsmanov for Platini.” “Humm… I don’t know, why don’t you give me your calculator watch instead?” Of course, the most popular albums were the soccer ones, especially during World Cup and Euro tournaments, but all the well-known cartoons at that time got their own albums too. In France, we’ve learnt business in school playgrounds, long before those boring unuseful economic college class.

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Words + Images Harry McNally Aside from living as a young child in Paris for two and a half years, I have often spent time in a small town called Moncrabeau. The two nearest cities, Toulouse and Bordeaux, are each roughly a two-hour car ride away. This is an extreme change, coming from downtown Manhattan. Moncrabeau is filled with heavy-set farmers with hand rolled cigarettes dangling from their lips, leathery skin and swollen red noses. Old people for days. Some of them seem like they belong to another century rather than a previous generation. I’ve always been infatuated with these ancient men and envious of their effortless style and self-presentation. They retain that classic and timeless way of dressing that’s hard to come by. You would never catch these old men out there wearing a t-shirt. It’s too 20th century.

I was confronted by one of these cuts. I’ve always noticed that Capri pants have been a popular item out in the countryside. There are few things that look more ridiculous than a grown man in Capri pants. The rat-tail kids can get away with it, but the ancients definitely don’t approve.

Rat-tails and buzz cuts with patches of long hair in the front. These were very popular hairstyles in the 90s and early 00s. I couldn’t help but stare whenever

There are a lot of stereotypes and assumptions about France and French people. One that I will confirm to be true is the smoking. Besides the fact that I’m

convinced French cigarettes are better than their American counterparts, I’ve had waiters take my drink order with a lit cigarette dangling from their lips. Clearly, this would never fly in NY. Most people will say this and that about the women or how great the food is, but when I asked my friend Bobby what he thought about French people he was quick to describe them as, “Being on some froggy shit.” What exactly “froggy” means is certainly debatable, but I would assume something along the lines of snobby, arrogant and froglike. When I was 11 I experienced my first French kiss. In France of course. This cute blonde girl Olivia and I rolled tongues for about 45 minutes, with short breaks. I thought I had lost my mind. Making-out was my new favorite thing. Although perhaps always a

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foreigner, I am familiar enough with the language and culture to convincingly disguise myself as French. It changes everything when you’re a tourist. Ironically, this had little to do with my encounter with Olivia, who was most intrigued by the fact that I was from New York. One of my favorite things about France is this thing called “gouter,” or as an American might say “goo-tay.” The term essentially translates to “snack time,” but its presence in everyday life is much more of a tradition than any snack time I have ever experienced in New York. 4:30 pm is the highlight of the day for everyone in France that has a sweet tooth. Cookies, Haribo candy, banana chocolate milk, grenadine with milk; I could go on forever. People in New York should be less concerned about dieting and indulge in some goo-tay.

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Words + Images Adam Schatz Over the past 12 or so years I have been a regular visitor to a small village (5000 residents) in the North of France where my wife is from. Her parents each have six or seven siblings and most of their families also live there. It is the type of town where everyone knows everyone. While not as glamorous as the storybook stereotypes of the South, the North of France has its own unique beauty, style and charm that I have become intimately familiar with and equally charmed by. In the North, the landscape is less sunflowers and fewer fields of lavender and vineyards, but more-so reminders of the region’s rich history of coal mining, industrialization, and Flemish influence. Of course there are plenty of farms, a factory or two and small villages scattered about in every direction. The people are very warm and humble, and cling to their regional traditions and language – a distinct patois known as Ch’ti. To hear them

pronounce the main French highway “A1” is enough to make anyone laugh, and is even a running joke amongst themselves. Locals also have a hard time pronouncing my name – Adam so most people call me “Adams,” as in “The Addams Family”. People in the countryside walk a little slower than in NYC, but are certainly no less passionate - that is for sure. The motto of their local soccer team

RCL is “Sang Et Or” (Blood and Gold). It sounds like they mean business. They are just not as passionate about the trendiest new restaurant, meaningless gossip and the rat race to riches. There is a contentment just short of complacency – they love to live, and really make a point of enjoying their lives. They’re not hung up on the small stuff. But not having wine, dessert and coffee with a meal could be a major problem. You can forget about eating a slice of pizza while you are walking to your next appointment. This behavior would be frowned upon. For a chronic New Yorker like myself, about one week at a time is all I like to be out of the city. I almost instantly

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feel like I am missing something. I am not “laid back” and I am anxious about everything. If it is too quiet I feel like something bad is about to happen. And nowadays even more-so. People in NYC are always trying to out-do or one-up each other, and this instinctive competitive nature is refreshingly missing in the countryside of France. Quality of life is more than a cliché, but five weeks of vacation is still a very foreign concept to me. A few days in the French countryside is all a New Yorker needs; it’s as relaxing as a week or more anywhere else. Picking a lettuce out of the garden in the backyard for that evening’s salad is relaxing and real. Now that’s Whole Foods!

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French Lover Loser Words + Images Artus I wake up this morning and I feel like a smashed potato. I feel sick, but not only mentally sick, physically sick. I have got the flu. A Swedish girl is lying near me in the bed. I think I love her. Yesterday night she told me she would leave me if I published the text I wrote about the “French Lover” for a special issue of an American magazine. So… my article is gone, and I think she was so right about the reason that makes this text horrible. I couldn’t sleep. It was a succession of names, my vision of love which was supposed to be the vision of the French lover. Bullshit! It was pure hatred, my deception and my frustrations. I was trying to explain that a French lover is someone who is always in love, and the reason why he was always in love - which is that he

couldn’t find the girl he liked because French women are pure bitches. In a way it is true, but if women are bitches, men are pigs, and it is not even about that, it is about human relations. “In France everyone cheats on everyone, is friends with their ex (just in case, you know)” – I wrote that also – “and making love to the girlfriend of your best friend is not only a French cliché, but also an awful thing to do” (I know, I went through this a couple of times). I was also saying that, “the most beautiful women were in France

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but are not French and that was why the French lover was so dangerous, with his French / English accent and his weird French habits,” and that “it was even worse when he was married because then he has nothing to lose”. I was also talking about the French kiss, the lingerie, the men in their stinky 12 square meters, with no shower, they only use for fucking, la “fameuse garçonnière Française”, but I was mainly talking about the rotten me. One says that love in France is pure anarchy. It is maybe right, but what would I know about it, maybe I was only in love once after all, or twice, or three times… Even if for me it is not about numbers but persons. When I hear someone in a night club saying, “I should not have come with my girlfriend tonight”, when she is the mother of his children, I feel weird. Same when I realize that a friend of mine is flirting with my girlfriend or someone else’s girlfriend, without any respect for his feelings, I mean for the feelings of everyone - his own, just like his friend’s or the girl’s feelings. Flirting, flirting around. Having sex is the best way to meet someone, to meet the real person behind the body and the spirit; Christians call it “knowing”. As in, and then he “knew” his wife, but can we really know someone? I think it is all about trust, and I am not only getting romantic here… The Swedish girl is now eating her breakfast in my bed, she is amazing, a pure beauty really, mind and spirit. Actually I don’t know anything about French lovers. Is it a way to kiss, to make love? But do you kiss or make love to all the girls in the same way?

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Maybe the French lover does, but we are not machines. I was a machine for a while, going from one love to another love, from one work to another, with passion, feelings, with all of my French love. But that was such a mistake. Once you meet someone you really care about, and there is no “one more” anymore. Well that is what I hope, even if hope is for me an awful word. I’d rather have faith. “Faith is not a grandmother’s dog”, like I wrote before, and, “true love no ultra violence”. Friendship and trust are not only a dream, and French lovers are not the best lovers in the world because they go from one woman to another one endlessly, or because of their weird strong French accent, or even because of the so sophisticated French women they fuck once in a while to add to the myth, neither because… Well… they are always… in love. French lovers are French lovers because they are French, and it is our culture to be free in love, that doesn’t mean being a machine or having a list of the girls they fucked, but still having the ability to love. I don’t believe in cheaters, neither in the people who think that they can flirt no matter what, but I don’t judge, I just know that it is wrong, because I was. The girl in my bed is asking “What is the conclusion?” I hope she can help me to find it; I have faith, like I always had. I am no French lover, just a French loser on his way to love. But am I really a loser? Maybe not. - Artus, Mardi 3 Octobre 2006, à Paris.

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The Terroir of Harlem Interview Thomas Subreville Photos Philippe Coste Cognac brands like Hennessy VSOP have long been part of Hip Hop imagery. Despite the bad image in France as an alcohol for the end of long rainy Sunday family meals, it seems that the Cognac found itself a new way of consumption, more rough, more straight from the bottle than in balloon glasses. Now all rappers aspire to have their own alcohol brand. Sizzurp, the drink of the Diplomats, is made by Philippe Coste, a local producer from Cognac in the countryside of France. When Harlem rappers put their rubber boots on to deal with the French Terroir… Frank151: For those who don’t know, what is Sizzurp?  Philippe Coste: Sizzurp is only 34 proof liquor. A drink made with fruits added to a blend of cognac and vodka. The objective was to create an easyto-drink alcohol, especially for women. That’s why men who like liquor don’t hesitate to add some more cognac to have a longer drink! F151: How were you approached by Dipset? The Cognac-Harlem connection is not that easy to do? PC: In fact, it has been done more or less randomly, through some people we have in common and who put me in contact with the brand owners,

composed with a finance guy and some US Rap celebrities. Sizzurp was a cocktail that people were doing in the streets of Houston. A mix of all kinds of alcohol around them, to which they added codeine syrup. It gives… how can I say? A good Spasm! Of course, we don’t put that in our Sizzurp. F151: It did not bother you to produce a drink with such a name, a codeine based drink? PC: No, not at all, it’s part of some vocabulary that we can call “Chic Slang”. Sizzurp is mostly a common name and no brands used the name, so that was a great opportunity to associate it with the brand. The name

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is easy to remember and directly linked with the verb “Sip”. Maybe that cocktail had bad uses and effects in the past, but it’s so “chic and nice”. F151: About the brand image, there are plenty of “luxury” alcohol brands that take care more and more of their image and are reluctant to be associated with the Rap world… PC: I do believe that Rap is a strong musical movement, with its own problems due to the attributes of any modern and creative project. But Rap is not violence indeed, it’s an artistic thing. You just have to see the influences of this music on the youth in America or in France… F151: So what do you think of this new and young way of drinking a noble alcohol that is the cognac straight from the bottle, in the street? PC: Only good things! The big problem for the cognac in France is a problem of image. Because there is no image! It is also a matter of use of consumption. It’s a luxury product, even for the French people. It’s an old drink here, a bit too agey, but still a luxury product. Cognac is extremely anchored as a digestif alcohol in people’s mind, but nobody drinks digestifs anymore in France. Cognac is really famous and drunk everywhere else in the world, in China, USA, Finland or even Russia, they do not drink it as a digestive but as a mixed long drink. F151: Did you meet the guys from Dipset? PC: Hell yeah, of course, I even celebrated my birthday in Vegas with Jim Jones. If he doesn’t remember that night, I do! That was fabulous

and we finished together around 5am around a bottle of cognac, he couldn’t stop telling me, “You are so much nuts in France” and I replied to him, “Thanks for the compliment.” F151: Did they interfere with the process of the liquor? PC: They interfered in the way that it was fully organized from the beginning. The taste had to please them and they came at one point to agree with the sample. I have to confess that we went quickly to the good results. F151: What about their music? Are you listening? Did you know them before? PC: Honestly, I was not that much aware. Of course now, I’m more interested. At the beginning, there was that compilation Sippin’ On Sizzurp with 3-6 Mafia, Cam’Ron of course and a lot of other tunes, I believe 24. This disc was a sort of reveal for me, a strong first lesson. Sometimes, you can still hear some tracks, damn good songs. I noticed there was a real emulation between the product and the artists. F151: Do you think that this kind of product is only interesting for the American market or can it expand to Europe and other continents? PC: The product is really American of course. It has all the attributes from there. But I believe there are chances that it can arrive in Europe, in big cities such as London, Paris, Amsterdam… You know, the Hip Hop culture and everything around will touch more and more the new generations. We are selling in Japan and I won’t be surprised to see one day Jim Jones singing on top of the Great Wall of China!

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Words + Photos CC McGurr When they asked me to contribute some French wisdom to this issue, I was like, “oui, oui, oui” all the way home, fancying myself in the role of Bernadette Chirac (first lady), or Segolene Royal (the political blond), ambassadress of the top caliber. Then my contribution, as well as my mojo, was downsized to bread crumbs when they asked if I could “give a favorite recipe, or something like that.” The alleged French snobbism set in. Wouldn’t I look cute on the cover? I should have been a contender, merde alors! I settled for undercover (because I’m nice), or more precisely for under the covers, which is a much cozier arrangement than overexposure; I could totally give a taste of France from any angle, if only given a chance. My special dish would be wearing a beret and smoking a cigarette, “aux armes, citoyens!” That’s where the Salade Niçoise comes into play; she could very well be the sexiest dish of them all, and is, by all means the first cousin of foreplay - too hot to overlook, and can I say mine has always been a success. Firstly, this gorgeous and nourishing piece is one of the crown jewels of the French Culinary repertoire (I really wanted to say cunnilingus, but hey!). It is both casual and sophisticated, a mix that French people adore. But let me give it to you: the big deal about Salade Niçoise is that it not only gratifies the sight and the tongue, but is also

indicated for those vegetarian and assorted discriminate characters, a sure bet if you are ready to entertain a bunch of organic creeps. Also, you have to note that ingredients are only an aspect of a respectable Niçoise. You’re going to have to really be in the mood for creating - just as it is for procreating - and set out to do it with utmost pleasure. Why try and make a dish, if you can’t enjoy the steps to felicity? Dix points pour la France. Personally, I like to get my ingredients at the small farmer’s market in my neighborhood of McCarren Park; while I shop, I love to watch the cute bratty kids sharing organic chocolate cookies with the dogs and pigeons, as I’m making crazy remarks in line for the fishmonger’s tuna steaks.

Ingredients #1 Choose a tuna steak at least an inch thick, and really reddish-rose in color; a good tuna steak should not smell fishy (duh!). #2 While you’re greeting fellow shoppers, select a beautiful head of lettuce and don’t forget to inspect it as if you knew what you were doing; get into the groove! #3 At the same stand, grab some plump tomatoes with a gentle hand, no hard squeezing, and be sure they are firm and really red; I always smell them myself, I get a rush from the scent of the stem and can already forecast it’s taste. It’s a juicy business! #4 Before you forget, buy some farmer’s fresh eggs, they will give a beautiful note of yellow to your dish, just like the sun shining on your morning after… #5 You also have to add some celery - a crunchy addition to this affair; pick it tender and lightly green. While shopping around, daydream about doing it - the salad that is; it is so exciting to look forward to accomplishing something delicious!

#6 Next, get some olives (Niçoise, the little black cured ones) and don’t be afraid to ask for them if you’re not sure; they’re quite popular given their city of birth, Nice, France, my daddy’s hometown. #7 Now, even if you are reluctant, you certainly will have to contend with anchovies, those little “je ne sais quoi” which will ascertain the taste of France. Those bastardly little anchovies have to be purchased in tiny containers, and used discretely, they give meaning to the word flavor! #8 Capers are more innocent; these tiny condiments compliment rather than kick, and are so misunderstood. Give them a chance. Of course, while shopping for all this, understand it’s better to be in good company; talking about doing it, and drifting to some other topics is a definite mood enhancer. All the better for your salad! So, once you get home, you should be not exhausted, but exhilarated, and psyched to put it all together. Ready? It takes no time. Wear something pretty, and don’t hesitate to put on an apron; I like white and frilly, but you can do it naked or with a turtleneck.

Directions Boil some water for your three eggs, less than three minutes please or they’ll be too hard. Soft-boiled is preferred. Rinse your lettuce, crack the leaves in halves and set them in a beautiful wooden bowl you brought back from Mexico or Costa Rica. Cut at least three tomatoes in large slices, and remove the seeds if you wanna go all the way, or if you or your guest have seed intolerance. Meanwhile, sear your fatty tuna steak, but for goodness sake do not overcook it! The flesh at the heart should look like the inside of your lips – don’t ask me which ones - so it will melt in your mouth as you scream, “Yummy!”

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Now, things are getting really exciting! Lay your eggs in a cute round fashion, once cut in halves, do the same for your tomatoes, garnish with your anchovies (eight is a good number), sprinkle capers with a dainty finger, add celery cut in baby slices all over. Top it with your gorgeous tuna cut in uneven chunks - yes, it’s better that way - and drizzle the shizzle with extra virgin olive oil; be generous. I like to juice it with balsamic vinegar, pinch of salt and grind some pepper all over it. Oh, oui, I forgot! Better have a baguette nearby; you’ll have to sauce up whatever juices your Salade Niçoise will create, or you may very well never understand the French.

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Words Nicolas Malinowsky Images Courtesy of AAA/Jacques Rouxel Les Shadoks are the brainchild of Jacques Rouxel, one of the most innovative Frenchmen ever. After having spent his youth in New York City in a French “Lycée”, he served in the French army where he discovered drawing. He then entered the ORTF research department in 1965, which was a government bureau that controlled all television and radio. At the time, it was the only broadcasting channel and was in black and white with no commercials. It was Rouxel’s idea to bring the American comic strip style art of his childhood to television. It began with some short animations, similar to ads but with no actual advertising. Rouxel’s animations were comprised of weird little creatures which he had been drawing in his sketchbook for a long time before. He named these creatures “Shadoks”, a purposely American-sounding title.

Behind these “something like stupid” cartoons, there was a tremendous and subtle way to criticize the modern exploitation of French society. Imagine, for example, a modern cartoon directed by Gaspard Noé, Guillaume Dustan, or Ekoué from La Rumeur being broadcast on television just after your local evening news. The series was highly disturbing to people, and

generated thousands of complaint letters. French comic Jean Yanne decided to put on a weekly TV show, where he publicly addressed the letters and defended Les Shadoks against the critics. So why such a minimal aesthetic and design? A question of taste for sure, but also for unique technical

reasons. As part of its multiple activities, the ORTF maintained a research department, which was directed by Pierre Schaeffer. Amongst other activities, Schaeffer is credited as one of the creators of Concrete Music – electronic music from the late 40s and early 50s that pioneered sampling techniques. At the time Schaeffer was inventing and developing new techniques and machines to produce sounds and images, he developed the Animographe, a machine able to create cheap and quick animations and cartoons. The only catch was the

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animator had to draw on small 2 1/3” “hole sheets”. This made it technically impossible to create Walt Disney quality backgrounds and paintings, but Rouxel’s weird creatures were perfect. Claude Pieplu, a famous actor at this time, was in charge of the voice of the series, and Robert CohenSolal composed the famous minimal

soundtrack, which gave the cartoon its special originality and extreme character. This music is still one of the most fabulous “Electro-Acoustic” experimental themes ever. Thirteen episodes were shot, but the series remained in the vaults of the research department because the heads of ORTF were afraid of the content. It wasn’t until 1968 that Emile Biasini was named as new director, and the decision was made to order 52 episodes for a premiere that April. The series was on TV for two weeks but was

stopped on May 13th due to large scale riots by French youth and the students protesting against the government and the police, along with nationwide strikes from most workers, most of France was brought to a standstill. May of 1968 is still remembered as the month that there were no trains, no oil, and no television. It was during that month that the creative team had the opportunity to produce 52 new episodes which would begin airing the following September. You may ask yourself, “why are Les Shadoks considered a ‘cult classic’?” First, you have to realize that Les Shadoks were broadcast after the TV news. Due to its enormous visibility and the radical concepts of “hiabsurdity” in the animations, these simple drawings were on the minds of everyone in France. It became the first big controversy on French TV. Some people were absolute fans from the beginning, but the other part of the population was against these bizarre birds with long legs and didn’t hesitate to voice their disapproval. Opponents of Les Shadoks would claim it lacked substance and “it was roughly designed and drawn…”, or that “it didn’t mean anything, it’s stupid and idiotic”. However, for fans, it was a breath of “Air Pur”, a slice of joy in an otherwise gray, sad, and censored TV landscape. It helped to reveal the will of the youth to change the world at this time in 1968. The graphic design aesthetic of Les Shadoks has since crossed generations by getting better with time, like a fine wine. It has inspired so many designers and artists that are prominent and

successful both in years past and present. Josh Petherick’s work is a cross-over to Les Shadok’s artistic universe, in terms of drawing, stroke, and color range. Geoff McFetridge’s aquarelles and other naïve pencil drawings could be the perfect fifth season for these stupid-looking birds. Even André has acknowledged that his little character phenomenon has drawn inspiration from Rouxel. Without trying to stir up controversy about the range of influence, one might say that Rouxel’s “Oeuvre” has a universal appeal that will inspire generations of artists, as did Jacques Tati or François Truffaud in the cinema. In conclusion, before encouraging you to (re)discover these low-tech animated jewels, I leave you with an anecdote that concerns the Gibis, the English counterparts to Les Shadoks that were spawned to inhabit the UK spin-off series. The pronunciation stems from Great Britain’s initials (GB). Les Shadoks only use 4 words in their vocabulary, and they correspond to the four parts of their brains. However, the Gibis are smart, and are able to create intelligent working inventions, unlike Les Shadoks who only “put things together to create useless things and stuff… with no success!” In certain episodes, the Gibis spend their time watching Les Shadoks “poor and miserable life” on big screen TVs with the help of spy cameras. The Gibis found pleasure in watching their idiot mates during tea time. Without knowing it, 40 years ago, Jacques Rouxel had created a satirical premonition of the reality TV genre that would come to dominate today’s television.

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Interdit Au Gens Du Voyages Words + Photos Guy-Laurent Winterstein - “You? A Gypsy?? Blue eyes, fashion hairstylist?” Should I walk around with a crystal ball in my pocket, die my hair black, grow mustache like my dad? Maybe play guitar to fulfill people’s expectations? The black eyed dark haired Gypsy. I‘ve had to deal with that ignorant cliché since my youth. French kids called me “Blondie” and told me to go back to my country. Well sure, where is it? I am from Marseille, like you. Such clichés! Often people think Gypsies, or Roma, as is the proper appellation, are from Spain or Romania. Let’s make this straight: it is widely recognized now that the Roma originated 1500 years ago in Rajasthan, India. I have often questioned facts of the origination of the Caucasian Rom. It must be global warming! Not really, since the Aryans are from North West India like my peoples, the Gypsies. They are Gypsies, one in the same. We have overcome rivers and lakes, mountains and plains, forests and fields, enslavery and privileges, for centuries using all types of transportation: by foot, horse, train, Mercedes-Benz, and American Airlines. Some of the villages we crossed in Slovakia, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, and Romania showed us the pitiful conditions in which the Roms were treated: no running water, shelter in

shacks, the complete absence of hygienic disposal. And this remains just a two hour plane ride from London. For reasons that aren’t yet determined, the Roma started their journey westward around the 4th century. Then several waves of immigrations followed during the next millennium, reaching the borders of Western Europe. Today, the Roma can be found across Australia, Africa, the Americas, and Asia. Often people create misconceptions and have little knowledge of the Rom. Some see us as hippies or fortunetellers and associate our youths with thievery, but very few know the real people and their impenetrable culture. But let’s not get carried away. I’m from France where Gypsies are called: Manouche, Gens du Voyage (men of travel), Bohemian, Romanichel, voleurs de poule (chicken stealers).

I am Sinti, like most of French Rom and we call ourselves: Voyageur. Being a Sinti in France is an underestimated privilege. Whether you admit it or not, France is the country of human rights. Even though discrimination against the Roma remains a present day reality, the social context of France is by far the best compared to other countries in Europe. For the Roma in France, education is free for anyone who wants it. Its health care and hospitals are certainly some of the world’s best. The countryside is perfect for nomadic life. Unfortunately, the hypocrisy present throughout all French history makes it a tough place to live in courtesy as a Roma.

trains while millions of good Roma were gassed, tortured, and used as lab rats along with millions of Jews and other minorities. Tears and tattoos are a real souvenir. No Roma got medals for fighting the Nazis. The U.N. should give the Rom a piece of land in Pakistan’s backyard, we could call it Romanistan, maybe even give us the atomic bomb. Not a good idea. First and foremost we would have to use a universal language. We are an oral culture and the hardest part of unification would be to unite the different communities of Roma. That might take generations, but it’s not impossible. On second thought, not a good idea.

France snitched on Jean Moulin and the resistance during WWII so I’ll let you guess how they snitched on the Roma. My great uncle once told me that he had to be more aware of the French than the Germans sometimes. They would “grass” on Tziganes to the Nazis for tranquility. My uncle helped the resistance during Nazi occupation, blowing up Nazi

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Today you can be a French-European, a Danish-European, but why not a European Rom? We’ve been in Europe for long enough! Our own passport would be nice. Our rebirth as a nation with proper Rom representation at the European Council would be a minor achievement. There are 15 million

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Roma around the world. More people than in Belgium, Portugal, Switzerland, or the Czech Republic. Living in New York and working in the fashion industry, the Gadjikan’s world is the extreme opposite lifestyle than most of my relatives could imagine living. Some of them never believed my situation for the longest time and some still don’t. I come from one of the largest and oldest Manouche families in France: the Winterstein. I wouldn’t say we’re the most integrated family, but we’re definitely one of the most French families. My Papou, Albert “Bero” Winterstein is a legend and a leader, much like his wife and grandma ( both R.I.P.). He took me under his wing. He granted me with his great old school knowledge, and it was just fascinating for a lost wild boy. He would take me everywhere he went: hunting, fishing, mangave, tchafrave. It would take many encyclopedia volumes to equal how much he taught me, but the lesson that I value the most was his ability to command the respect of the Gadje and

the Voyageurs. He was a relay between the communities, the missing link. We got chased in some villages just because some local politician came to visit them and bullshit them by promising a better life and never fulfilling their commitment, as they always do. And I’m not talking about the far right and xenophobe movement blooming all over eastern Europe, just look at what happened in Usti Nab Labem, Czech Republic. The mayor ordered the construction of a 10 foot wall around the Tzigane quarter, that doesn’t remind you of something? I could go on about extremist movements blooming all over Europe, but who really cares? Is it more important to make sure that your comfort and well being come first? Yes it is, and that applies to anybody who lives on this planet, even those skinheads and Fascist motherfuckers. If we want to be accepted we must accept and respect others. Some wish to disregard all differences but I believe in respecting those differences so that we may one day transcend them. Baxatalo!

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Zevs - “Police...” Burned miniature cars (oeuvre unique) Courtesy Galerie Patricia Dorfmann, Paris.