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The New Muse: Kathy Goodell in San Deigo!

Gently, a day is taking shape.  This visit is chiseled from the veined marble of long understanding.  Kathy Goodell and Frau Kolb are friends with a connection that spans decades in this life and the infinite in some other plain of existence, past lives playing a prominent role. Yet, this is our first time spending an entire week under one roof.  Will we get along?

Photo © Kathy Goodell, 1 Dec. 2014
Photo © Kathy Goodell, 1 Dec. 2014

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Hartmuth Kolb is pleased to visit Point Loma in San Diego, California

Frau experiences refreshed awareness that life is phenomenological blooming of energy, fleeting blooms on the edge of time, the wind of ideas stirs reflection, when in the company of this refined Contemporary Art Muse. Thus, OPEN to talks on closing acts and end game strategy, we embrace a day of deep talks, woven into the breezy fabric of classic San Diego sight seeing.

We wake up early, as usual.  The morning zips past.  At noon we were at San Diego International Airport, picking up our friend, a soul sister and personal Art Muse of Talkinggrid, Kathy Goodell, a human flowering of loveliness and edgy intelligence has arrived!  She is easy to spot, looking fashionable, in her HUGE sunglasses and “Op Art,” silk blouse.  She is a powerful Muse. We rush to greet her.  She embraces us with the warmth. BIG HUGS!  Flowing kisses.  “Hello! Hello!” All around, our day is off to a rip roaring good start!

Kathy Goodell looking lovely with BIG SUN GLASSES in San Diego with Frau Kolb and The Family
Kathy Goodell looking lovely with BIG SUN GLASSES in San Diego with Frau Kolb and The Family

On the way to lunch in Little Italy, in San Diego, The Art Muse of Talkinggrid, Kathy Goodell’s winning  personality is like a shawl, comforting.  In my world, Goodell is famous not just for her expansive and intellectually daring sculptures and art installations, but also for being a person whose personality is at crossroads of glass and metal, transparent grace, fragile, yet of enduring strength and lasting fortitude.  Her artistic oeuvre touches on the accidental, dreamy and quasi scientific in scope.  Her art work moves me.  She is a venerated teacher of art, mentor to many, with a following that spans generations, continents.  She graciously speaks to my little children about the recent Henri Matisse, exhibition, up now in New York City, now, connecting with them immediately, tending to that sacred spark, an interest in art, which we hold dear.

Muse Goodell is loving the organic food market, Jimbo's in San Diego!
Muse Goodell is loving the organic food market, Jimbo’s in San Diego!
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Always creating, Kathy Goodell, takes in San Diego
I painted this portrait of our amusing guest in a burst of inspiration, joy.
I painted this portrait of our amusing guest in a burst of inspiration, joy.
Snapping a Selfie!
Snapping a Selfie!
Goodell's good looks inspire artists, young and old.
Goodell’s good looks inspire artists, young and old.
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Annabella, age 8, makes a nice drawing of Kathy Goodell.
My Kid finds Goodell a worthy subject for a portrait.
My Kid finds Goodell a worthy subject for a portrait.

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The Muse Departs
The Muse Departs

Goodell, simply, oozes neon talent.  She is one of those beings that lives and breaths the mystical condition of being a “True Artist,” a multi-faceted creature, adventure ready.  She thrills me with her floating free generosity of spirit, her cool fashion sense, and her quick mind.  She is a favorite of the lively Contemporary ART MUSES, a female goddess of great creativity and wit, a source of artistic inspiration to many a young and an old artist, both inspiring to art legends and generations of students.  Goodell is friend who has earned the extra attention not just from Frau Kolb but from all her army of adoring students, all grateful for her indefatigable encouragement and support.

Photo © Kathy Goodell, 1 Dec. 2014
Photo © Kathy Goodell, 1 Dec. 2014

Imagine being a real Contemporary Artist, an art professor, paid for your expertise in art, a Guggenheim Grant recipient, Best Friend to Frau Kolb, Star of Talkinggrid, and international MUSE!  A respected person known for knowing about ART!  Think of that… Imagine being known as an Contemporary Artist and being a woman respected for her solid creativity and staggering productivity? Now, go Google yourself.  What does Google say about you?  Google Kathy Goodell, you will discover a woman at the crossroads of American History, a person of singular interest, and tremendous charisma. Be impressed.  I am.

We drive to the Historical and Natural Preserve of Point Loma, gladly paying $5.00 per vehicle entrance fee.  We look about and then decide to visit the Light House.  “I Love LENS!!!” Goodell purrs. Up into the little hill we go, which like so many such relics from a time past, seems tiny, a little precious jewel of a home, which once housed the keeper of the lonely lighthouse and his family.  The rooms, spick and span, chamber pots under the beds, pitcher and bowl for washing one’s face, a little guitar in the corner, hand made quilts… the usual American frontier artifacts of a time just recently past, idealized as formerly simpler.

Point Loma is a lovely vista point from which you can see all of downtown San Diego, Bay and Harbor.
Point Loma is a lovely vista point from which you can see all of downtown San Diego, Bay and Harbor.

The Point Loma lens are so beautiful.  Old glass, it captures the room around it, the light, the rainbows, upside down and inside out, the play of here and there is OTHERWORLDLY.  One could image that these objects might somehow be portals to different dimensions.  Doorways into space.  The infinite.

Excellent iphone image of the LENS at Point Loma in San Diego.
Excellent iphone image of the LENS at Point Loma in San Diego by Talkinggrid Muse, Contemporary Artist, Kathy Goodell.

In Goodell’s company I find myself thinking about the perpetual.  What is FOREVER?  Our friendship is a lasting one, the seed of which was a casual comment Goodell made as the young Frau Kolb… I wasn’t Frau Kolb then… I was a very young woman working in an Italian Restaurant in Soho, when Kathy came in to dine.  I waited on her.  She saw something in me.  That we became like family is a testament to her OPEN heart and generosity of spirit.  Her friendship is an unwavering source of good in my life and I hope to be forever that in hers.  All this LOVING makes me think of DEATH.  Death.

The finality of it… really, each of us only has a few close friends in this world.  Goodell is one of mine.  Thus, with her I discuss the grand plan, my vision(s).  We share the minutia of our days and compare notes about people that admire us, her, and/or me.  We know a number of the same people, being that we are both California/New Yorkers: girls who wear the robes of Muses, forming a Muse Team, inspiriting each other to new heights.

Actually, when I die, I’d like for my tombstone to say: “Artist, Mother, Friend!”  I’ve always enjoyed imagining my own funeral.  I like the idea that ALL MY X Boyfriends might come together to mourn me.  A handful of handsome men in tuxedos, of course.  They would drink whiskey, or ambrosia, make toasts, boasts, and talk about what a pain in the ass I was.  Hartmuth, my husband, would defend my memory!  I would attend the event, as a sexily clad ghost, wearing a gigantic black hat bedecked in veils.  The men, steadily drinking might glimpse me here, there.  However, I vow, not to linger… wouldn’t want to get stuck as a wandering spirit, on this side of the river Styx.

I ask Kathy Goodell:

What three words would you chose for your tombstone?

“OH MY GAWD!”  She answers.

Who do you imagine might most weep when that moment of dropping a handful of dirt on the casket arrives?

“Besides YOU, Frau?”  She asks, hazel eyes twinkling.  (Of course, Goodell, did not really say that… but I can dream.  If I really asked her this question, I think she would say her niece would be there, eyes a flood.)

What achievement(s), as a public person, artist are you most proud of?

“As a public person… I have to think about it for a minute… That my art might infect some with a sense of the eternal.” She answered, really.

How do you expect to be remembered?

“All depends on who is doing the remembering.” She says reminding me that every memory is but a flickering candle in the unceasing wind. Who cares how we are remembered when so much of what is remembered is tarnished in the self serving act of remembering?  We live but for a flashing instance, to be forgotten is inevitable. Yet, by making great art Goodell is among those that will leave an enduring legacy.

I ask Goodell a handful of earthy questions (above) on her second day in San Diego.  Each day here Goodell tells me of at least one beautiful story of her life and her development.  She is a San Francisco native, successful transplant to New York, with an international exhibition record and a following that spans generations.   As a child she was curious about religions, not finding the perfect spiritual fit she designed her own rituals, methods of observance.  Her family, long established in the United States, has historically interesting characters galore.  She is a person whose personal history is fascinating and instructive to the extreme.  I would like to learn more about her and a week in her gracious company, leaves me longing for more of her causal bounty/beauty.

I’d like to share with you, more of Goodell’s Goodies, stories, images and a creative perspective unlike any other.  I am inspired by Goodell’s tenacity, wit, and inner glow.  She represents the mature woman we’d all like to become, a person that owns herself and holds her own in any situation, a woman I admire.  As Goodell prepares to depart we sit next to each other and I relinquish a little control over the image I want to project of her glory.  Her unwavering modesty, overrides, my desire to BANG a DRUM, toot HER HORN, and CELEBRATE like a champion gladiator her enduring brilliance, her remarkable SHINE.

Acrylic on canvas,
Acrylic on canvas,4th of December 2014 © Frau (Caridad) Kolb

 

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Lunch for ONE, at Café Constant in Paris, France

 


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Merci, Monsieur Claude Reich for the restaurant recommendation.  I waltz into to Cafe Constant with confidence.  I dance in the restaurant at the moment when the corner table becomes FREE!  I take my seat, guided by a divine feeling of fulfillment at having made it to LUNCH.  The table, from which I can see the entire room,  is waiting for me. I am waved into the freshly set table by a pert young man, Garçon.  He pulls the table out for me, appraising me in an instant, slightly bowing, and then nodding, “Bon Jour, Madame!”

I am in heaven.

 

 

Cafe Constant; Rue Saint-Dominique 75007 Paris, France
Cafe Constant; Rue Saint-Dominique 75007 Paris, France


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IMG_3907Cafe Constant; Rue Saint-Dominique 75007 Paris, France

Sometimes we encounter a spot, a specific location, a space, an entrée so delicious, an invitation so tempting… that being there is… an ongoing lingering pleasure… a savoring… of eternal good taste, forever.

Welcome to Paris.

Take lunch with me, please. Sit down across from me. You are the perfect guest because I can see right through you. I may dismiss you as I please. You are never offended. You care. Yet, you are transparent without substance. You sit. You listen well. Conversation is not your forte. I don’t mind. I’ve brought a book. I am reading, “Paris; True Stories of Life on the Road.” Or sketching… or perhaps I am daydreaming. Lazily watching others chew, sip, swallow, listen, answer, and gently argue over topics not likely to be resolved.

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I make a note to myself about the plain lady, looking very Catholic, stern and her prune like mother, an wrinkled replica of the younger woman. She, with her antiquated haircut would be an excellent character in a book. A book… I am not writing a book. I blog. I write about food, fun, and fast times in museum settings. Nothing too exciting, yet a few people care to read my words and I am grateful for their LIKES and shares, donations, endorsements, and trickle of praise.

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Frau Kolb is at ease at Cafe Constant, in Paris France.

 

Indeed, I feed on the positive attention of a few loyal readers that care to know what Frau Kolb had for lunch in Paris during the sexy summer of 2014.

Delicious fresh French food, I savor  every firm and well rounded green pea, every cube of carrot, delights me!
Delicious fresh French food, I savor every firm and well rounded green pea, every cube of carrot, delights me!

 

 

Yet, I will not tell you what I eat. I will show you. You can look over my shoulder. Or better yet, sit with me. Yes, take a load off.  Relax.  We have all the time in the world.  No one would ever rush us, here at the famous Cafe Constant, there are is an ebb and flow of patrons, ever so steady and well… I might stay here all day, it is so comfortable… and the people!  Behold the polished Asian couple now seated to my right.  Wow, they look like advertising, picture perfect. They must be from the future.  I gather by their high tech watches, slick designer space gear.  I love them, instantly.  Yet, hope they don’t notice me taking them in along with my espresso.

 

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Frau Kolb experiences Post Lunch Bliss at Cafe Constant in Paris France, Summer 2014.

 

I will take care of the bill. Keep your cash. You will need it, later. We will go out tonight, perhaps. IF you have time, after your next engagement, I will be around. Floating. I have a good book with me. I am reading, “Paris, Paris; Journey Into The City of Light,” by David Downie. I have my sketchbook, chalk, erasers and those black wing pencils, I prefer. Perhaps, I will POP into The Louvre and make a record of the wet dream of inter-species perfection, The Winged Victory, the statue… of a luscious female form emerging from the chiseling water, which plasters the wet “fabric,” of stone against her hot winged body. The ancient statue is mesmerizing work of art worthy of its pith. She is eternally ready for an armless flight into… forever.

Me, Myself, & Frau Kolb at Lunch, Cafe Constant, Paris.  Summer 2014!
Me, Myself, & Frau Kolb at Lunch, Cafe Constant, Paris. Summer 2014!

 

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Je thé… Me, Taste Paris, with Jacky Larsonneur

We were early, the first customers of the evening at Je thé… me, a romantic restaurant known for its good food. We crossed the thick curtain covering the door and into a comfortably furnished, tight, dining room. The host, Jacky Larsonneur, tall and erect, is standing at the center of the room, his mischievous blue eyes sparkling.  He pounces on us with the grace of a well fed tiger!  We were to be his willing prey for the evening.  We loved being the center of his sage and savvy attention.  IMG_3618


He ushered us to our padded seats and fully welcomed us to his place, with a touch of formality which would be soon brushed away, he instantly signaled that the ancient rules of hospitality were in effect.  We had arrived into the care of Je thé… me, a space where we could put our guard down and swallow the delicious fact that we had entered a restaurant unlike any other.  Larsonneur has deftly owned and operated the enchanting restaurant for almost three decades. The space is a home away from home, a well polished jewel of romantic corner kitchens, an absolutely perfect, quintessentially French spot. I’ve quietly dreamt of such places my whole life. In New York, we attempt recreate the energy of such spaces… perhaps Balthazar’s succeeds. The shelves are filled with books, tea pots, and other “comforts of home.” The warmly furnished room is acutely inviting, a place to melt away stress and enjoy a fine meal. The Germans call this feeling, “Gemütlichkeit,” which loosely translates to, “cosy,” or “warm and familiar.” It is a complex word, really… yet it fits perfectly in thinking of the warm embrace of the space, the restaurant, Je thé… me… such a sensual name… such an excellent evening, about to unfold.

Le Vin, the wine, cements a new friendship at Je thé... me in Paris, France.
Le Vin, the wine, cements a new friendship at Je thé… me in Paris, France.

“English?” He asks after a few pleasantries in French. He introduces us to his menu. It was poetry in food, just delightful.  Salivating over the options, we allowed him to guide us, making recommendations, choosing which wine we drank. At ease in the roll of Culinary Guide, he takes us on a marvelous trip into a familiar yet new world of flavor.  We eat and drink with silent reverence. Other guests arrive. First a man with two beautiful Asian women, who sound 100% California. They are seated on the other side of the attractive room. Later, they come to appear flabbergasted, mouths open, eyes bulging, at the wealth of attention we receive from our talented host. Shortly after an older woman and her (likely) granddaughter appear and are seated. Finally, a young blond couple from Denmark take the table next to us, where they proceeded to make-out passionately for two hours. Did they eat food? I don’t know. I was busy scarfing DOWN my entire plate, making every morsel vanish, worshiping drops of reduction sauces, expertly prepared.

Fondréche 2012, Ventoux
Fondréche 2012, Ventoux

I am transported to a purely sensual zone. Ms. Crane, The Muse, sits next to me on the bench, laughing, making funny comments about the cast of characters around us, the universe, and beyond. Hours slip by, we don’t fret.  This is a time reserved for eating, drinking, and conversation.  My adoring Big German Scientist husband, enjoys the view, across from us and documenting our good time without being intrusive. Speaking of welcome intrusion… did I mention that Jacky planted his laptop on our table and sang to us, old French songs? He did. He sang to us!  He serenaded our table! (How’s that for entertainment?) He has a marvelous voice.  He popped his laptop on our table and shared with us a video of him, on youtube singing in a choir as a young boy. He was an angel. He sang solo, brilliantly!  The camera loved his blond boy beauty. Oh, Jacky!  You are a restaurant man beyond compare!  What talent!  Pure charm! Je thé… me.

IL ÉTAIT UNE FOIS, 2012
IL ÉTAIT UNE FOIS, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The food was divine. Yet, I refuse to divulge the details of what I ate.  Eat bite was a discovery, an explosion of flavor in my mouth.  No, I won’t write a laundry list of ingredients.  No.  Exactly what I ate doesn’t concern others…  Unless, of course, they man-up NOW and venture beyond the barnyard gate, to Je thé me… in Paris!  Once there, I can imagine, a parade of pilgrims, FRANCO-FOODIES by the herd, hereby and henceforth, respectfully paying homage to Larsonneur’s impeccable hospitality, good wine, and super-fresh French food with bus tours (god forbid) and other (less tacky) fanfare.  I will just say: that if one does not live to visit Jacky Larsonneur at Je thé… me, is simply missing out on enjoying living, breathing, singing history in action.

There is no television in the historically preserved room. By and large, French restaurants do not bombard you with advertising while you are eating. French food is to be taken s l o w l y, quietly or boisterously depending on the mood. The music, wine, and incredible quality of the food all collaborate to take you to sacred heights within yourself and in communion with tradition. French food is famous, of course, but when you actually sit and eat food that deserves this degree of reverence it changes you.

I will never again be the same woman. I have changed from the inside out, a part of me, my heart… I think… is now––forever–– French. I do not know IF the Potato Eaters at the other tables felt the same AWE over the delicate, fresh, innovative, yet totally traditional FRENCH cuisine, prepared sensitively, and served with intimate flair.

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At our table, Ms. Crane, Hartmuth and I were swaying in a whirl of FOODIE JOY beyond general comprehension. It was a secular, intensely sensual, culinary-come-religious-experience. In this mood, of beyond bliss, the hours passed and we continued eating. Finally, we begged Jacky to pick our desserts. He brought one for each and each was pure perfection with the entree, eaten. WE had NEVER had such a meal, such service! The wine… ah… it was sublime. I shall never recover from this re-introduction to what food can be. Food is a potential space-ship with direct shuttles to heavenly JOY! Now, from the shelf, tumbled one of the encyclopedias on France. (OK, I admit, that I could not resist pulling one of the books off the shelf and perusing it, while the ice wine was being retrieved.) The book popped open, before us and there was Jacky, turning the pages to his Chateau… really? Yes, he pointed to a picture in the book and said that this was his family’s country property. Oh… now my American mind wrapped itself around very foreign concept. His Chateau… WOW!

That our host  enjoyed our company was demonstrated in that he invited us to stay with him for a few more bottles of wine.  We were out till the earliest hours of the next morning, sitting, conversing, laughing like lunatics well past midnight, playing, and dancing with Jacky.  The Muse, Hartmuth, and I Frau Kolb… this evening could be the stuff of legend and myth. We were early, the first customers of the evening for Je thé… me. We crossed the curtain and into the room and found ourselves in a new relationship with the world, with life. We were welcome, ever so welcome, so we stayed and renovated our selves, with intensive healing doses of hilarity, studied frivolity, and unfiltered joy expressed in hearty appetites.

The Muse, Jacky Larsonneur, Hartmuth, and Frau Kolb at Je thé... me in Paris, France. Summer, 2014!
The Muse, Jacky Larsonneur, Hartmuth, and Frau Kolb at Je thé… me in Paris, France. Summer, 2014!

From the ether of fantasy and wishful thinking, surrounding Paris and The Muse, that which prompted this life-altering trip to a new return destination, a NEW cultural base for Frau Kolb & The Talkinggrid from which to learn and grow, the health and happiness of yours truly and those that truly crave a slice of a very good way of life, the French Way.  I will return again and again to now beloved Paris, France and specifically to see Jacky Larsonneur and  the most romantic of restaurants, where we feel in love, not just with the food, the wine, the host, but also with Paris, Je thé… me.