Eric Demay

Heille, pis bonne année!

I am truly saddened by his passing.

He remains one of the most inspirational figure of my life. I have been following his work since the mid 90s. I, a young teenager at the time, was looking up to this man, whose passion was inextinguishable, whose vision and dreams were without constraint, whose determination was fearless. It stuck with me.

He verbalized this impression and what drives him in his commencement speech at Stanford in 2005, the same year I graduated. I could quote it all, but this part has helped me a great deal, figuring myself out, how and why I work, why I get up in the morning:

“I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.”

Don’t settle. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Steve, you will be missed.

J’interrompts brièvement cette lente publication de photos de voyage pour vous faire part d’un petit projet qui me tient beaucoup à coeur et qui vient de voir le jour ici au Québec.

Jean-Paul Daumen (domaine de La Vieille Julienne), vigneron renommé de la vallée du Rhônes, vient de lancer une nouvelle ligne de vins à l’international, et c’est mon ami Louis-Pierre Chouinard et moi-même qui avons fait la conception de l’image de marque et des étiquettes.

Au printemps 2010, Oenopole, l’agence qui représente Daumen au Québec, nous a approchés avec les grandes lignes du projet: un vigneron déjà bien reconnu, une nouvelle ligne, une célébration du travail de la vigne et de la cave dans la vallée du Rhônes. Ok go, on embarque.

Sachez que nous n’avions ni l’un ni l’autre un baggage professionel relatif à la culture du vin, à ses contraintes de distribution, aux traditions de commercialisation, à la compétition sur les différents marchés, et à la pollution visuelle existante en magasin, ici comme ailleurs. Nous devions donc compenser par nos expériences en design graphique (développement de marque, travail de l’image), nos bonnes têtes, et notre intérêt personnel élévé pour le vin. De plus, nous avions Oenopole, grands connaisseurs de l’univers vinicoles et vaillants instigateurs du vin vrai, à nos côté.

L’expérience s’est révélée un magnifique petit projet de design. Un vrai, dont l’aboutissement surprend. Un projet qu’on commence sans savoir où les réflexions vont mener. Mais après maintes et maintes discussions, ébauches, maquettes, bis, bis, bis, les pièces s’emboîtent enfin. Une cohérence conceptuelle et graphique s’installe. Le tout prend son sens, se concrétise et aboutit finalement à quelque chose de remarquable, d’unique et véritablement à propos.

Je vous présente donc Daumen, un nouveau projet vinicole de Jean-Paul Daumen. Il ouvre le bal avec le Côtes-du-Rhônes (2009) (vraiment full bon, essayez le avec des côtelettes de porc ou de la bavette) et le Principeauté d’Orange (2009 – malheureusement pas dispo ici au Québec). D’autres vins suivront et s’ajouteront à la ligne, je vous tiens au courant.

• Daumen, Cotes-du-Rhônes 2009 · $20,05 · code saq: 11509857 · dispo dans une succursale près de chez vous.

Ok, last Mosque gazing for awhile, then we move on to food, beaches and other turkish fun stuff (cats perhaps?). Here’s Süleymaniye Camii, designed in 1550 by Mimar Sinan, the chief Ottoman architect at the time and probably one of the most proficient and prolific Turkish architects of all time.

We got there just before sunset, wanting to assist the Maghrib prayers but curiously—and I think it was because of the ramadan—there weren’t many celebrants yet, everyone was breaking the fast, planning to come in later for Isha (night prayers). Corinne still awaits, curious.

… is inevitably found in the smallest, cheapest, back-street local joint, where they don’t speak a word of English, where your table is set outside almost off the sidewalk and mopeds and taxis brush by it by mere inches, where Mom cooks, Dad serves and the kid brings you your change.

To me, Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia) remains today the most impressive yet intriguing building of the historic Istanbul.

Established for centuries as the Greek Patriarchal cathedral of Constantinople (Greek Orthodox Christians, 562–1204, 1261–1453), it also briefly served as a Roman Catholic cathedral for 57 years (1204-1261), and was later converted to a mosque when the Ottoman conquered the city (and Byzantine empire) in 1453.

That year, Sultan Mehmed II ordered the conversation of the church, stripping it of its Christian attributes (furniture, bells, altar), plastering the mosaics, and bringing in the Islamic mosque kit de rigueur: minbar, mihrab and 4 large minarets cornering the edifice. It lived as such until the 1930’s, holding the title of Istanbul’s number-one mosque for many centuries, and becoming an architectural model and inspiration for half a dozen of other great mosque constructions in the city—yes, including the neighbouring famous Blue Mosque. In 1931, it was secularized and converted to a museum.

How ironic! Now living in an era when religious beliefs often tend to negate negotiations, where creeds and traditions are fought for, I find this tolerance of the site’s history quite fascinating.

The secularization and transmutation of a religious building for another use isn’t an uncommon sight anymore, churches are now being flipped into apartment buildings without much protest.

But the transfer and appropriation of a religious building, built in ecclesiastical customs, as a sacred place of worship for christians, to another religious group and to become their place of worship, suddenly fulfilling different spiritual functions altogether and become sacred to their own—not to mention the city’s principal edifice of this type—is quite strange and even unorthodox to many (no pun intended).

I was discussing this with a [Turkish] friend one evening in Istanbul.

He suggested: “Oh well, you know how it was: Constantinople was conquered, the Ottomans came in, and they were not very tolerant. Christians were slayed, and they took control what was left. They didn’t leave anything untouched.” To which I replied: “Well no, actually, quite the opposite: they must have been quite tolerant to that matter to accept the conversion in the first place!”

Anyways, the best is, abiding to this same sagacious rationale of architectural immunity, they even kept the name of the building throughout the years, no matter church or mosque: Ἁγία Σοφία, from the Greek meaning “Holy Wisdom”.

Wise, indeed.