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Hotel Orient
by Sylvie Blum
My work led me, for the first time, into a hotel where one pays by the hour. A mixture of curiosity and fantasy prompted me to take up the challenge of making a portrait of it. The doors of this hotel have been open for about a century; it's a place steeped in mystery for amorous couples, an address brimming over with stories and rumors, pervaded from top to bottom by Viennese charm.
Here, the walls are covered in bombastic oil paintings, thick red curtains filter daylight and steep the rooms in a red light normally associated with brothels. Plush, velvety sofas, ancient, worn easy-chairs, wallpapers of fabric and adorned with little flowers, sculptures, artful silk flowers and heavy, gilt-edge mirrors. Everywhere, one encounters oneself in one of those mirrors. Round above the bed, oval above the bath, and gigantic at the foot of shagged-out beds.
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