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THE NEW COLLECTION
FRAGONARD X JAMIE BECK
The new capsule collection Fragonard x Jamie Beck, Comprising eight items - blouses, skirts and dresses - the Fragonard x Jamie Beck collection is inspired by the poetic floral motifs and prints of the 18th century, all originating from the Musée Provençal du Costume et du Bijou (Provencal Costume & Jewelry Museum) in Grasse. Embellished with handmade embroidery and screen prints, as well as traditional Indian wood block designs, the limited edition will be available in our boutiques from May 2024.
Find out more about Jamie Beck and go behind the scenes of this collection
"In India with a Provencal American"
Jamie Beck - Photographer
My name is Jamie Beck.
I’m an American photographer living in the South of France,
most known for my New York Times best selling book, An American in Provence.
India. It’s a hard question to answer when asked “how was it?” How can you answer, “Everything” and even come close to capturing what that could possibly mean. But before we open Pandora's box, let me tell you how this unexpected journey came to be.
I discovered the rich history of Fragonard’s Provencal fashion museum, fashion photography being my main professional trade before giving up my Manhattan commercial studio, for a small, natural light art studio in Provence some 7 years ago, as a fashion photographer in New York, my job with clothing was focused on perfection and idealism, now in the South of France, it is about storytelling.
As a fashion photographer in New York, my job with clothing was focused on perfection and idealism, now in the South of France, it is about storytelling. When I first moved to France, I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t speak the language, and I had no one to photograph. So, I began photographing myself. Telling my story, documenting my evolution, through photography and using fashion as the language tool. When I met the fashion team at Fragonard and experienced the museum in Grasse, fashion changed again for me. Cultural richness, history, craftsmanship, and how global trade affected influence then became a textile I could touch. Another layer of defining France in my journey of discovery.
Over lunch with the Fragonard team in Aix-en-Provence to celebrate their newest store opening, I mentioned visiting India was a dream of mine. As a photographer, I have had the privilege to travel the world for work most of my life, and yet, never to India. To my surprise, they responded by asking, “We are going next week, would you like to come with us?”
I immediately said yes, and there I was a week later, boarding a plane to Mumbai.
“
There I was
a week later,
boarding
a plane to
Mumbai
(...)
First
impression,
India is a place
of startling
contrasts.
”
It was night when we landed. Setting eyes on a new country is always beguiling. Before you become part of it and mix your world with theirs, and vice versa, at first you just look. How does the air play with the colors ? What are the smells? How does the energy feel? What does the light look like? What is the cadence of the people? I watched out the passenger van window harrowing down a lane-less highway as we passed one of the world’s largest slums. “Over 2 million people live there,” they tell me. “They have their own culture, their own pharmacy, everything.” I try to imagine that life which is hard to do as an observer from behind a glass window. And then, a minute later I find myself wandering down our hotel’s perfumed hallways, fingering the garland of roses they adorned around our necks in welcome. I taste the sweet powdery pastries and think about how in one breath, you go from the poorest of poor, to the richest of rich. First impression, India is a place of startling contrasts.
As a passenger on this trip my job was to be an observer, something I am accustomed to as a photographer. My eyes would go on to gaze over the Gateway of India in Mumbai, India Gate In Delhi, to the Amer Fort Palace in Jaipur. Everywhere you look is something, someone, some story unfolding. The complexities of our human nature playing out in the streets and through the architecture. Every belief system known on earth walking past each other at once in a chaos of people that can only be described as madness and yet, on their faces, the look of total normalcy. And then, you adapt. You let India begin to change you, to show you a world of everything.
I walked into the wood block studio, a traditional and ancient way of making colorful patterns on fabrics using carved wood blocks dipped in ink and stamped onto fabric. There is a drumming cadence in the rhythm of the artisans stamping away. Dip dip, stamp stamp, repeat. They lined it up perfectly. How do they do it with no other tools? It’s so simple and yet so satisfying.
We visit another studio, and another, and it begins to become clear to me that these fabrics not only made their way around the world for centuries but influenced French fashion, especially in the 17th and 18th centuries. These wood block patterns that I have seen in museum paintings, in costume exhibitions, in recreations of bygone French eras were actually Indian by origin and just as coveted now, to this day, as back then.
As a passenger on this trip my job was to be an observer, something I am accustomed to as a photographer. My eyes would go on to gaze over the Gateway of India in Mumbai, India Gate In Delhi, to the Amer Fort Palace in Jaipur. Everywhere you look is something, someone, some story unfolding. The complexities of our human nature playing out in the streets and through the architecture. Every belief system known on earth walking past each other at once in a chaos of people that can only be described as madness and yet, on their faces, the look of total normalcy. And then, you adapt. You let India begin to change you, to show you a world of everything.
I walked into the wood block studio, a traditional and ancient way of making colorful patterns on fabrics using carved wood blocks dipped in ink and stamped onto fabric. There is a drumming cadence in the rhythm of the artisans stamping away. Dip dip, stamp stamp, repeat. They lined it up perfectly. How do they do it with no other tools? It’s so simple and yet so satisfying.
We visit another studio, and another, and it begins to become clear to me that these fabrics not only made their way around the world for centuries but influenced French fashion, especially in the 17th and 18th centuries. These wood block patterns that I have seen in museum paintings, in costume exhibitions, in recreations of bygone French eras were actually Indian by origin and just as coveted now, to this day, as back then.
“
Just when you
think you’ve
seen it all,
India shows you
a world
of endless
wonder.
”
I adored the little floral prints, the joys of colors. The contrast, again, of the world of whimsy being created on linen to goats sleeping in the studio doorways in the center of one of the biggest cities in the world.
There was a moment when I saw a piece of floral fabric that took my breath away. I held it up to my chest to imagine what it would be like as a dress. When I looked up, the fashion team was staring back at me and they too, began to dream. Can we bring to life this journey to India with our adopted Provencal girl? If I could wear it, how would I wear it, and what would it look like back home in the South of France?
We began to sketch what ultimately became this special capsule collection. Something lined in French history, its admiration to Indian craftsmanship, and put to practical daily use no matter if you’re wandering through the flower market at sunrise in Jaipur or the Provencal farmer’s market buying your daily groceries.
I could go on about the experience of India, but again, it’s impossible to grasp everything India gives you. Peacocks watching you from tree tops, the beauty of a sari, the food, my god the food. Art, textiles, culture, population, traffic, rickshaws, fluidity, gardens, slums, palaces, animals, death, decay, newness, and just everything, everything, that we call life.
Sitting back in France, when I think about India now there is one vision that always comes to mind fi rst. There I was standing in a dark windowless room on the top fl oor of the City Palace in Jaipur while the Indian guard felt that same beguiling emotion as when I fi rst laid eyes on India. And that is her magic. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, she shows you a world of endless wonder, where life can still be, everything.
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