What could be better than an entire exhibit of only photos of Serge Gainsbourg, the intensely sensual French singer-songwriter? I recently attended the opening of Serge Gainsbourg: Initials L.G. at the French Institute Alliance Française (FIAF) Gallery. Initials L.G. (as he was born Lucien Ginsburg) had an alluring arrangement of portraits and images by photographers like Helmut Newton, William Klein, Patrick de Spiegelaere, and Tony Frank.
I remember visiting his grave in Cimetière de Montparnasse in Paris. It was swarmed with flowers and portraits, both photographs and original drawings. At his funeral, the then-President Mitterand compared him to Baudelaire and Apollinaire, and his old apartment continues to be graffitied with poetry. Although he died in 1991, he still seems to be very obsession-worthy. Do you need more than the above to guess why?
The exhibit is up until April 23. But I’m going to listen to “Bonnie & Clyde” right now.
By the way, I meant to time this post with his birthday, April 2, but the LCD Soundsystem show yesterday enveloped everything.