Mystery vs. Trust
In Paris, there are dozens of reasons to step into a café or bistrot.
Sometimes it’s sheer survival. The urban hike has wrung you out and the city, which is constantly trying to kill you by walking you to death, finally wins. In that case, the first place that looks like it won’t poison you will do.
Other days you’re poring over a map, digging into the far reaches of the internet, hunting for a hidden gem. The difficulty becomes a credential. Hard to find? Good. It means the place doesn’t need to shout.
Of all of these, the hidden gem is what fascinates me.
At what point does being difficult to find shift from liability to magnet? How far will someone go before desire gives up? To the back street, the crooked stair, the unmarked door?
And what sets that desire in motion? A friend’s insistence? A line in a magazine? A quiet rumor that refuses to leave you alone? How long did it take before anyone even knew the gem was there?
Maybe for the really tucked-away places, the work happens in a different order. Maybe you begin before the door exists. You share the story first. The values, the little obsessions, the shape of the experience you want to offer. You let people come along as the idea finds its bones. If they can follow the work as it’s made, then all of the mystery of what lies ahead will be transformed into knowing anticipation.
By the time the sign is finally hung, they’re not “discovering” you at all. They’re arriving. Not stumbling in because they couldn’t bear to go any farther, but showing up like you do at a friend’s place. Buzzing the bell you’ve known about for months, already certain there’s a seat waiting inside.
Artwork : Rue Notre Dame, Paris - Johan Barthold Jongkind
Photograph taken by Benjamin Schwartz