Recently, a good friend of mine sent me a copy of “A Moveable Feast,” Ernest Hemingway’s posthumously published memoir of Paris in the ’20s, “because I feel like we are artist friends,” she said. The idea of simply being there, at the center of creation and avant-gardism. Sometimes you do not even need to be very serious about your love of art to dream of Paris you can also love the idea of art, and the idea of famous writers sitting in cafes and drinking wine, the idea of you sitting where James Joyce or Picasso might have sat. Since I study literary modernism, I dream of Paris in the 1920s - of Gertrude Stein’s infamous salons and Sylvia Beach’s lending library Shakespeare & Company, good coffee and cheap English-language books.
Anyone who writes, makes art or has an appreciation for either field has their own individual dream of Paris.
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