As winter’s cold blanket is about to cover the ground and I anticipate spending more time indoors, I crave an artistic retreat. Over the holidays, a close friend and I reminisced about days spent in Paris, reading, writing and dining in cafes listening to great music and the taste of cheese and fine wine. Hours passed this holiday season just thinking about what it would have been like to have lived in the 20s or 30s and been a part of an artist’s salon.
Our talks reminded me of a forgone (but now reinvented) New York landmark, a place near and dear to my heart, Cafe Des Artists. I love it for its rich history, the times I laughed with my late mother over champagne. I miss this dimly lit dining spot not far from Lincoln Center for its bourgeois artistic free thinking atmosphere.
Cafe Des Artists was originally a cafeteria, where artists shared meals … home cooked meals in traditional style made. Yes, they nourished their bodies, but I see how they fed their minds. I think what a magical place, a cozy bar that felt like the nighttime sky at twilight all day long and dinning area covered with murals adorned with nymphs … a wonderland where minds were free to wander. The perfect place to find inspiration over morning coffee or to unwind after a long day of creating and crazy city life
Often, I dream of an enchanted and peaceful haven. When I was a child, this place was a walk in closet that I decorated and had secret tea parties. As an adult, this place was Cafe Des Artists.
In 1917, Cafe Des Artists was merely a nearby grill where artists living in the kitchen-less 67th Street Artist Co-ops could get a warm meal. Artists could dine in the cafe or have their meals hoisted up by dumb-waiters. When George Lang, a legendary gourmand and historian took over the space he let the cozy bistro atmosphere live on with a limited menu based on seasonal foods available at the local market.
But what I loved most were the murals “Fantasy Scenes with Naked Beauties.” They reminded me of my childhood days at our summer cottage in the woods Massachusetts. I would run about, dining on wintergreen berries from the forest floor, making friends with salamanders, listening to the birds sing sweet melodies and hunting for fairies.
These scenes painted by Howard Chandler Christy capture the magic of the woods and my happiest childhood days. After playing in nature, I would come inside and draw, paint the walls with frogs, mermaids and ferns … as a teenager I transformed the bathroom into a fantasyland.
Cafe Des Artistes touched my heart. It was my muse. My conversations were always more intimate when I dined there. I felt connected to artists of the past and always had a feeling of adventure when I was there. And the day I met George Lang and he shook my hand, I felt that he shared my same passion for art and creation.
I feel the art of intellectualizing is dying, maybe it takes place over Facebook, but it is not the same. We seek quick responses, instant gratification and in my mind that is not how art happens. It evolves. It ages like fine wine.
Cafe Des Artists has been transformed with a modern, light and airy twist. It is now called Leopard Des Artists, a name that reflects the Southern Italian origins of the menu. It is on my list of places to visit this winter.
