Made In France, Paris Photostorybook : les Parisiens n'aiment pas qu'on les filme (ni les photographe)

Made In France, Paris Photostorybook : les Parisiens n'aiment pas qu'on les filme (ni les photographe)Parisians don't like being filmed (or photographed)

les enfants jouent à la Rue Ternaux, June 7, 2012

Do not film or photograph Parisians.  They have a particular sense of privacy.  They do not have the fantasy that random images of them will make them famous and rich, nor do they particularly enjoy that kind of attention.  Love them from a distance, love them for who they are, not their image.  They are nervous of their images being broadcast all over the Internet, used in some twisted, perverse capacity.  

If you photograph their children, even by accident, mothers ask you to suppress the images from your digital device.  An African resident becomes quite angry when i photograph his wife getting a very public massage from the street fair masseurs who work for tips.  The images do not contain her face, just the back of neck and shoulders.  Many residents are Muslim; the faithful do not regard religious images, nor permit images such as tattoos on the body.

You may remark a certain distance each photo has from the people in them; I try to avoid close-ups of the children and I try to take a shop window instead.  and in the end, the image with the most striking energy and power is completely unintentional.    A small African-Parisian girl and her friend charge into my photo.  She is facing directly into the camera; she runs into my view.  She creates her own image.

click here for weekly updates and to return to current kweejibo storieshttp://www.kweejibostories.com/

These images are captured in a delicious little corner of the 11th Arrondissement, between Metro Parmentier and Oberkampf. One starts with Rue des Trois Bornes, to the north, across Avenue de la Republique to Rue Gambey. Then, follow Rue Oberkampf, and turn into little Rue Jacquard which tucks into Rue Ternaux, which slips into Rue de la Folie Mericourt. No grand monuments of martyrs, no twelfth century architecture, just neighborhood sweetness.

les enfants jouent à la Rue Ternaux, June 7, 2012

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the story of Kweejibo Clothing Co., on the Haight in San Francisco, 1992 to 2008. Product designed by owner and staff, all locally manufactured in Oakland. Part of a series of stories written by Soon Yee Cindy Cho, owner of the former Kweejibo

Excerpts from :

Made in Oakland, Part One 

"1989, graduation"

our fair and wind chill factor city experiences the Recession forcefully in 1989. a Recession, waves of cash recede from the vicinity along with the tourists, all disappeared due to the thorough nation-wide media depiction of the whole of San Francisco as having fallen into the bountiful Pacific Ocean.

i must get a job, despite the city's current paucity in such. i cannot move back in with the parents who live in the Sunset. the Sunset District is the real San Francisco. it is built on sand dunes, ever sloped ever hilly, and where i have done my time already for fifteen of my formative years. all that gorgeous unrelenting grey fog which lacks even patterns of cloud formation, just greyness, and miles of repetitive stacked together perfectly medium sized houses, the same five barely differentiated styles of facade over and over and over.... oh the Sunset! vortex of uncoolness.

in 1989, i hope to exchange my free labor for pattern design or sewing lessons in the U.C. Berkeley costume shop. this shop is run by a gaggle of women who are not compelled to teach us anything, and do not. i put together costumes for shows by hunting and gathering in the maze of the costume collection, assembled from years of donations form wealthy graduates.

i am not really current or cool enough for my used clothing job at The Wasteland, which has a second store just opening in downtown Berkeley. i am the geeky girl, the only one with the useless college degree. My only advantage is my ability to identify the older vintage pieces due to my terribly valuable costume history courses. i am hired at a resounding five dollars per hour, standard for 1989 recession retail.

Fascinating to me, The Wasteland. days spent pouring over the bags of items brought in by people for cash or trade credits. these bags contain lifetimes of stories, important or just bizarre moments in personal history, perhaps even the restless spirit of ancestors, and mostly, just a lot of mustiness.

The Wasteland, is a T.S. Eliot poem. and the design of the store alludes, if not to poetry, to a more fanciful vision, a bit of eclecticism and nostalgia. a cool and messy museum of costume as clothing history. the store has the look of Charlotte Gainsbourg, cypher for French womanhood, with hair eternally sexily disheveled, somehow never washed just that day, but not too dirty either.

Cheryl, one of the owners, is very generous with her time as my impromptu business advisor. she worked previously at Buffalo Exchange, a chain of very moderately hip purveyors of the recycled fashion. she creates a business on the same model, but with an emphasis on vintage or even antique pieces.

fashion is often an informal act of plagiarizing. if one is never accused of copying, one is beneath notice. getting only good press can be a sign that one is beneath contempt.

The Wasteland has its own oddities, maybe more in the measure of generosity. in my time, the employees have lending library access to the entire store stock, ten items at a time. and to make icing on the cake sweeter, one can transfer a few items at the end of each week to the following. many people simply borrow instead of buying. there would always be some beautiful new item that could make you forget the loss of the old one. sometimes, this policy has the effect of keeping the best stuff away from the customers. one day, one of my colleagues spies a beautiful item on the retail floor, and says, "what the hell is this doing here?"

"Play Time: Waiting on Godot"

i try to get jobs in theater costume shops. theater is considered cool at this time. does anyone have the attention span for theater now? Anyone under the age of forty? Can you sit surrounded by people, unable to twitch around for least two and a half, three hours?

it never occurs to me to consider my own lack of qualifications while reading the requirements for any job. i am young and i believe they should give me a chance. keep the faith.

i manage to get costume jobs, though i can barely plot a straight course on a sewing machine. i failed the sewing portion of home economics in junior high. my only other training is one day spent with my mother who attempts to teach me to put together a simple dress.

teaching is the process of receptivity to imperfection. an act of encouragement; a current sacrifice of perfection which opens the door towards a hopeful, more perfect future.

however, my mother is not acquainted with this philosophy. the sewing lesson becomes a painful six hours. she seethes in exasperation. she must be restrained almost physically from taking over the project herself, overcome by a longing for a missing perfection. she prepares me for a career in the impossible.

i am hired as wardrobe girl at the Berkeley Repertory Theater, while in my fifth year at U.C. Berkeley. i work thirty-five hours per week, eight shows per week; I try to go to school, too. i do quick changes during the show, moments of helping actors get dressed quickly. i iron for a living, i press shirts for the show every night. i have my station in the brightly costume shop by an open door at the end of a pitch black hallway. the actors inform me how comforting it is to see this young woman every evening at the end of this dark stretch. They start work with shirts warm from the iron. pre-show, i nap happily under the clouds of smoke in the Green Room, the actors' waiting room.

the next show “Waiting for Godot”, is a nightmare. I struggle with a giant orb which is supposed to be the moon. the moon rises at the end of each act. this orb rides on a long wire wound on a spool; a spool which rests casually on a nail in the wall. I screw this up more than once, living inches from being fired on a daily basis.

I am fired, in the end, but not over a glowing orb. the management realizes I cannot put a zipper into a garment, and I am out of a job I had grown to love, or at least, before the orb came along.

I move through a string of theater jobs, attempting to better my sewing skills, riding the waves of the lack of budget for costume shops. this budgeting style stems from the old days, when women did not need to work outside the home. many could devote their spare time to sewing costumes, a kind of community work.

"What's in a name?"

or

"What's a Kweejibo?"

or more correctly, what is a kwyjibo? the year is 1989, and a new show, "The Simpsons" is talked about, giggled over... Bart Simpson is admired and reviled, a bratty young thing. one day, while at work at The Wasteland, which can translate to “doing very little and looking very good”, i overhear the conversation of two of my favorite co-workers. Isobel and C.J. talk about an episode of "The Simpsons".

i never witnessed that particular night's episode. Isobel says, "last night, that was hella funny... Bart is playing Scrabble with his family and he goes out, like, he wins...using all his letters, makes one word 'kwyjibo'... you know, man, that's like fifty points right there, plus all the points from everyone's letters, and everyone was just sitting there, like hey, that's bullshit, but they don't have enough nerve to challenge it..." we are crazy for playing Scrabble and The Simpsons. what does that mean? well, Bart says scientifically "a North American hairy white ape..."

i decided on the spot that it would be my company name. who else will think of this name? Isobel cannot remember the correct spelling of the actual word, so i make my own spelling.

the choice is a name that would be obscure for at a while, no trademark infringements, but would gain a certain notoriety from the overwhelming success of The Simpsons. at the time nobody knows what it means; when we make women's clothing, no one is aware of the oddness of naming a women's line after "a hairy white male ape". by the time they discover the meaning, we are onto the men's clothing only; so the meaning merely seems ironic.

i apply for the trademark a full six years later, in 1996, after my store had been running for already three years. no one likes the name at first, too difficult to say. that is, until we start to sell a lot of shirts. and until the details of "The Simpsons" episode become a more commonly known pop-culture detail. my friend, Scott Marcus, is the sole proponent of starting a small men's wear line. coincidentally, he works for Twentieth Century Fox Studios at this era and, occasionally, with Matt Groening, the show's creator. Mr. Groening, amused at the idea of Kweejibo clothing co. offers to sign our store photos.

about MADE : A Trilogy

Part One :

MADE IN OAKLAND

the Kweejibo story, the improbable story of a clothing-maker and merchant

Part Two :

MADE IN BURMA

the Cho family, third generation Burmese residents, an improbable life escaping to and escaping from the Promised Land (the rice bowl of Asia, Burma)

Part Three :

MADE IN SOME JUNGLE

Cho's stories Thailand and Sri Lanka

click here for weekly updates and to return to current kweejibo storieshttp://www.kweejibostories.com/

la Rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud et le café, Les P'tites Indécises, June 7, 2012

                                       

la Rue des Trois Bornes, le café Les P'tits Indécises, June 7, 2012

 La Rue Gambey, Outside the Crystals and Sound Healing Shop, June 7, 2012

La Rue Gambey, Outside the Crystals and Sound Healing Shop, June 7, 2012

leaving Rue Gambey June 7, 2012

Rue Gambey June 7, 2012

La Rue Oberkampf, June 7 2012

Paris Pratique, Éditions 2009 Le Voisinage (Neighborhood) de la Rue Ternaux

En Face de Pudding (across from), June 7, 2012

La Brocante, June 7, 2012

la Brocante qui s'appelle Pudding (antique store, Pudding)

En Face de Pudding, June 7, 2012

 les enfants jouent à la Rue Ternaux, June 7, 2012

 la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, (Art Puzzles in wood, cut by hand)  June 7, 2012

Puzzles en bois découpés à la main, June 7, 2012

la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, June 7, 2012

la machine pour découper à la main, les puzzles en bois, June 7, 2012

la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, June 7, 2012

la machine pour découper à la main, les puzzles en bois, June 7, 2012

Puzzles d'art en bois, découpés à la main, June 7, 2012

click here for weekly updates and to return to current kweejibo storieshttp://www.kweejibostories.com/

"Play Time: Waiting on Godot"

i try to get jobs in theater costume shops. theater is considered cool at this time. does anyone have the attention span for theater now? Anyone under the age of forty? Can you sit surrounded by people, unable to twitch around for least two and a half, three hours?

it never occurs to me to consider my own lack of qualifications while reading the requirements for any job. i am young and i believe they should give me a chance. keep the faith.

i manage to get costume jobs, though i can barely plot a straight course on a sewing machine. i failed the sewing portion of home economics in junior high. my only other training is one day spent with my mother who attempts to teach me to put together a simple dress.

teaching is the process of receptivity to imperfection. an act of encouragement; a current sacrifice of perfection which opens the door towards a hopeful, more perfect future.

however, my mother is not acquainted with this philosophy. the sewing lesson becomes a painful six hours. she seethes in exasperation. she must be restrained almost physically from taking over the project herself, overcome by a longing for a missing perfection. she prepares me for a career in the impossible.

i am hired as wardrobe girl at the Berkeley Repertory Theater, while in my fifth year at U.C. Berkeley. i work thirty-five hours per week, eight shows per week; I try to go to school, too. i do quick changes during the show, moments of helping actors get dressed quickly. i iron for a living, i press shirts for the show every night. i have my station in the brightly costume shop by an open door at the end of a pitch black hallway. the actors inform me how comforting it is to see this young woman every evening at the end of this dark stretch. They start work with shirts warm from the iron. pre-show, i nap happily under the clouds of smoke in the Green Room, the actors' waiting room.

the next show “Waiting for Godot”, is a nightmare. I struggle with a giant orb which is supposed to be the moon. the moon rises at the end of each act. this orb rides on a long wire wound on a spool; a spool which rests casually on a nail in the wall. I screw this up more than once, living inches from being fired on a daily basis.

I am fired, in the end, but not over a glowing orb. the management realizes I cannot put a zipper into a garment, and I am out of a job I had grown to love, or at least, before the orb came along.

I move through a string of theater jobs, attempting to better my sewing skills, riding the waves of the lack of budget for costume shops. this budgeting style stems from the old days, when women did not need to work outside the home. many could devote their spare time to sewing costumes, a kind of community work.

"What's in a name?"

or

"What's a Kweejibo?"

or more correctly, what is a kwyjibo? the year is 1989, and a new show, "The Simpsons" is talked about, giggled over... Bart Simpson is admired and reviled, a bratty young thing. one day, while at work at The Wasteland, which can translate to “doing very little and looking very good”, i overhear the conversation of two of my favorite co-workers. Isobel and C.J. talk about an episode of "The Simpsons".

i never witnessed that particular night's episode. Isobel says, "last night, that was hella funny... Bart is playing Scrabble with his family and he goes out, like, he wins...using all his letters, makes one word 'kwyjibo'... you know, man, that's like fifty points right there, plus all the points from everyone's letters, and everyone was just sitting there, like hey, that's bullshit, but they don't have enough nerve to challenge it..." we are crazy for playing Scrabble and The Simpsons. what does that mean? well, Bart says scientifically "a North American hairy white ape..."

i decided on the spot that it would be my company name. who else will think of this name? Isobel cannot remember the correct spelling of the actual word, so i make my own spelling.

the choice is a name that would be obscure for at a while, no trademark infringements, but would gain a certain notoriety from the overwhelming success of The Simpsons. at the time nobody knows what it means; when we make women's clothing, no one is aware of the oddness of naming a women's line after "a hairy white male ape". by the time they discover the meaning, we are onto the men's clothing only; so the meaning merely seems ironic.

i apply for the trademark a full six years later, in 1996, after my store had been running for already three years. no one likes the name at first, too difficult to say. that is, until we start to sell a lot of shirts. and until the details of "The Simpsons" episode become a more commonly known pop-culture detail. my friend, Scott Marcus, is the sole proponent of starting a small men's wear line. coincidentally, he works for Twentieth Century Fox Studios at this era and, occasionally, with Matt Groening, the show's creator. Mr. Groening, amused at the idea of Kweejibo clothing co. offers to sign our store photos.

about MADE : A Trilogy

Part One :

MADE IN OAKLAND

the Kweejibo story, the improbable story of a clothing-maker and merchant

Part Two :

MADE IN BURMA

the Cho family, third generation Burmese residents, an improbable life escaping to and escaping from the Promised Land (the rice bowl of Asia, Burma)

Part Three :

MADE IN SOME JUNGLE

Cho's stories Thailand and Sri Lanka

click here for weekly updates and to return to current kweejibo storieshttp://www.kweejibostories.com/














la Rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud et le café, Les P'tites Indécises, June 7, 2012

                                       

la Rue des Trois Bornes, le café Les P'tits Indécises, June 7, 2012

 La Rue Gambey, Outside the Crystals and Sound Healing Shop, June 7, 2012

La Rue Gambey, Outside the Crystals and Sound Healing Shop, June 7, 2012

leaving Rue Gambey June 7, 2012

Rue Gambey June 7, 2012




La Rue Oberkampf, June 7 2012

Paris Pratique, Éditions 2009 Le Voisinage (Neighborhood) de la Rue Ternaux

En Face de Pudding (across from), June 7, 2012

La Brocante, June 7, 2012

la Brocante qui s'appelle Pudding (antique store, Pudding)

En Face de Pudding, June 7, 2012

 les enfants jouent à la Rue Ternaux, June 7, 2012

 la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, (Art Puzzles in wood, cut by hand)  June 7, 2012

Puzzles en bois découpés à la main, June 7, 2012

la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, June 7, 2012

la machine pour découper à la main, les puzzles en bois, June 7, 2012

la Rue de la Folie Méricourt, June 7, 2012

la machine pour découper à la main, les puzzles en bois, June 7, 2012

Puzzles d'art en bois, découpés à la main, June 7, 2012








click here for weekly updates and to return to current kweejibo storieshttp://www.kweejibostories.com/