September 2025

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Synopsis Chapter 9: Monday, Art Residence Hotel in London. A message. Claudio lands an agent. A spotlight. A storm. He narrowly escapes death while filming a L’Home Invisible, brand (Paris) men’s underwear commercial at Elite Agency, Milan. Italian newspapers scream: artist-model’s kiss of death! Will Marina Abramović accept Juliette’s proposal to be part of LaArtTV’s buzzed-about short: Women for President? Pose as a naked-torsoed Lady Godiva? © Back in Rome, Juliette arranges a daring new art display at Villa Degli Angeli and finally talks to Claudio. She lands a sensational art story for Elle. Time to read: 4 minutes. Perfect with your breakfast, so hip you might ask for another Lavazza café latte….

*Juliette was in London, speaking with Marina Abramović’s publicist David Kuhn at Aevitas Creative Management. Barefoot in her room at the Artist Residence—52 Cambridge Street, Pimlico—she gazed out the window as they talked, in this silent picture noticing two young children quarreling over a bicycle while their mother tried to break up the skirmish.

Mid-call, the hotel phone rang. She ignored it.

Later, a blinking red light on the phone caught her eye. A message.

Call me it’s urgent. Sound PR. In Milano from: Matteo Straus.
She called back.

“Do you know Claudio Baldoni?” Matteo asked, his tone sharp but composed.

Julliette hesitantly, “Yes. I know Claudio very well.”

“I wrote two pieces on him this year,” Juliette said. “Art Monthly UK and Flash Art Italy.”

“He hired me as his publicist,” Matteo replied. “His gallerist at Deodato Arte Roma recommended it. I’m with Sound PR in Milan—Via Antonio Stradivari 7.”

 “This is… surprise.” Claudio is the sort of man who believed his own personal achievements would drive his career forward. Matteo, “Last week, his photo ran in a Corriere della Sera Foglio Domani Corriere della Sera, Il Foglio, Italian newspapers.”

Juliette felt it instantly—that sudden shift when a name turns into a story.

Mateo: It happened, Late Afternoon last week.
At the Elite Modeling Studio on Via Amedei 8, Claudio stood on the second floor, in Atelier 8, lit by a soft blue spotlight. Wearing L’ Home Invisible © speedo briefs. He was posing. Controlled. Composed. Ready to be photographed.

Then—chaos.

What culminated. In a street level entrance, a hunted man forced his way past security. A killer on the run, police closing on him. The killer made it to the 2nd floor. Crashing through the heavy canvas doors into the studio 8. I think he wasn’t looking for Claudio.

“Is he okay?” Juliette’s now frantic desperate voice cut through the confusion over the phone.

“Yes, yes—he’s fine!”

“He’s just met his “breath of death,” Matteo said, feeling urgency rise. Asking. Juliette, he added, “Can you write a story on this “memento mori encounter? I know someone in Elle who is interested in this glow story. I told Claudio—don’t speak to any press or TV until I’ve spoken with you first.”

“I’ll call him now. I’m in Milan next week.”

Juliette dialed Claudio herself. It went straight to voicemail.

Your publicist Matteo just called. I’m late leaving for Rome. We talk next week in Milan. Don’t speak to any media. Love, Juliette.

She hung up. Timing was everything now. Thinking let the story unravel itself.

She grabs her Bottega Venetta suitcase as her phone pings: Lyft driver is in front. Sliding into the Subaru, placing my suitcase on the passenger side. On the way to London’s Heathrow Airport, my psychologist mind is at work. The subject.  Claudio and Amanda’s drifting relationship. Past the causes of their love’s erosion, they now float on separate islands, echoing the destiny of “Atlantis & the Pillars of Heracles” (Platonic myth).

Claudio, who allowed me to speak with his psychologist, Signora Dr. Sara Mirabelli in Milan—her office door bears the sign: “Our wounds are often doorways to the best and most”—is distancing himself from Amanda and clearly benefiting cognitively. Looking out the car window, I feel a rising panic as traffic crawls past; I’m afraid I’ll miss my flight. Soon, arriving at Heathrow, Terminal Gatwick 3, hurriedly I roll my Bottega Veneta suitcase, glancing nervously at the departures board.

Lucky me—my flight to Rome is delayed 30 minutes. Relaxed now, I am looking around and notice in the newsstand the Sun’s front page: “If Business Charlatan Trump Retires Today, 80,367 Lawsuits Await.” I joke to myself: maybe ChatGPT needs 10 AI Prozac pills—diagnosed with a “maga,” overthink loop malfunction. But honestly, who really knows how many people are and will in the future lineup to sue the U.S. President, or the American Government to reflect Trumps actions? What stage the world will be in?

After security check, I headed to Gate BA554 for my 10 AM flight to Rome. A kind man lifted my suitcase into the overhead bin.  Announcement in English and Italian: Fasten your seat belts we are taking of. As the Boeing climbed into the gray skies, as they say it confirmed all roads lead to Rome. 

“I thought of The Sun’s front page. My opinion differentiates.  President Trump, blending Machiavellian and Narcissistic egoism, is profoundly dangerous to the nation. Like all who clutch money or political power, he clings obsessively. Napoleon, in his grave, would see Trump’s ego as fragile, his audacity reckless, and the chaos it breeds proof that power without discipline collapses. Napoleon’s glory uplifted France: Trump’s glory corrodes America.”

My polemics stand on fact: the sudden loss of power strikes like Lindsey Vonn losing control on the snow slopes of St. Anton, Austria. In life and in history, power is unforgiving—your grip can vanish in an instant. Her ski veers out of control, racing downward, unstoppable. In that fall, disaster looms, and the course of her path changes forever—a stark reminder of how quickly control can be lost.

Poking at the Sun’s front page, I realized I’d likely never interview the president—certainly not in the Oval Office. He’d prefer a blue-tiled jacuzzi with extra jets. I imagined Donald, possibly affected by body-image insecurity, stepping in with his trunks while I was in nude. I would switch on my Edirol tape recorder.  Wouldn’t ask questions—he’d talk about himself endlessly, for more than two hours, at times repeating himself. But the warm water carried me toward half-sleep, my eyelids twitching. Donald noticed and mistook it for a sly wink—unsure if his own erotic imagination kicked in. To interrupt his wandering thoughts signal, I quickly entered my “bubble play” phase—dropping my flute of Dom Pérignon into the jacuzzi and asking for a refill. A waiter appeared, stepping ceremoniously into the water in full tuxedo, tray balanced high as the bubbles curled around his tails like seaweed. Donald sat perplexed—unsure if this was interview, theater, call by Eros or a dream. Half-asleep, I smiled: I had turned his misreading into my stage, and the jacuzzi into my story.

Just then, my drifting reverie was broken by the stewardess voice, offering a bottle of Aqua Panna. I sipped slowly, opened my laptop, and turned my thoughts toward 2027—envisioning an art performance with the incomparable Marina Abramović and a constellation of renowned women artists.

In 2024, I attended the Venice Biennale, “Stranieri Ovunque” / “Foreigners Everywhere.” At the Venice Museum, I paused before Boudica—a Celtic warrior woman by John Opie. He painted her bare-shouldered, echoing Greco-Roman “heroic nudity” to embody valor. A woman beside me remarked on her absolute strength. She introduced herself as Carla from Cinenova (UK) and, with a knowing smile, invited me that evening to the Biennale film screening of Women for President, produced by LaArtTV in Los Angeles—an invitation that felt less chance, more destiny.

It was early afternoon as she asked me: “I have an invitation to the Versace show—want to come?” I didn’t hesitate. The setting was the beautiful old San Fantin Church, its windows opened toward the Grand Canal. For half an hour, models floated down the runway to live baroque music and choral chants—,” taking you to paradise where sins are not committed, but new dress is promised.”

When the finale ended, no one moved. Antonio from Versace PR staff stepped into the pulpit, drawing names from a chalice-shaped hat. Clara whispered, the show is “Produced by Bureau Betak—marketing genius, they create fascinating marketing magnets for the biggest brands.” Suddenly, her name was called. A 14-year-old choir boy with angelic face in red and black surplice carried over a large Versace bag. Inside: a “summer spaghetti dress” of yellow, red, and purple patterns made in fine Thomas Mason cotton—art that seemed imagined by the artist, Giacometti, realized by Versace.

Clara’s smile faded; the dress was too small for her UK size 12. I was a US size 6. With a sly glance, she said, “The dress is yours. ”For a moment, I was stunned. How could she know it would fit so perfectly? Because I sew and can guess your size with an ease.

That night we met again at the Venice Biennale Film Dome. The screening of “Women For President,” https://youtu.be/e1vosPqahwQ screened in Berlin Film Festival 2025), lasted only thirty-eight minutes, yet it was sharp fast paced and unforgettable—one-of-a-kind witty interviews with women (and a few men) at major European and American art shows. Inspirational and unapologetic, it urged the audience to carry this long-overdue aim forward. "Italy today is led by a remarkable woman—its President–Prime Minister, the intelligent and widely admired Signorina Giorgia Meloni."

At the reception, we sipped Brunello di Montalcino wine from Tuscany, with capicola and gorgonzola bites tucked into crisp edible Kopykake brand paper cornets.” We asked why America has never had a woman president—and what we could do about it? Over the next two years, with volunteers from Women in Film, Los Angeles, Carla from Cinenova (UK) and I shaped a daring vision: Picture a human chain performed by women only. Two hundred and eighty-eight women would circle the Broad Museum in Los Angeles, hand in hand, indulging in art performance, “Women Artists for President,” an equality manifesto made into living art.

Its climax would be unforgettable. In London, speaking with David Kuhn of Aevitas Creative Management, the proposal arose: Marina Abramović would lead. She would stand at the circle’s head. Standing in art prop custom-made Louboutin shoe that rises from her foot all the way to her waist—a sculptural garment and audacious symbol of power. From the waist upward, she would be naked-torsoed as Lady Godiva, her presence, pure and unshielded—an emblem of fearless equality.

In the circle, every 26th woman would represent a heroic figure—Delacroix’s Liberty, Boudica, Cleopatra, or Joan of Arc. Each would step forward on a symbolic pedestal, joining the orb and standing among the women, embodying history’s heroines.©

Planned participants include Cindy Sherman, Jenny Holzer, Margaret Atwood, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Roxane Gay, and more. 

Featuring a unique link to the world’s most iconic brand names—LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, Fenty Beauty, Charlotte Tilbury, The Ordinary, Dior, Hermès, MAC Cosmetics, La Roche-Posay, Lanvin, Miu Miu, Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Versace, Tom Ford, Victor Luna, Vivienne Westwood—and more. These brands will engage directly with a one-of-a-kind art performance, becoming part of an unrivaled exclusive showcase where creativity, influence, and prestige converge, smartly entwining the public into participation. ©

The pilot announced in English and Italian that we were descending to Rome Fiumicino Airport. The attendant asked me to close my laptop for the second time—his expression: not another unruly passenger. I smiled. “Grazie, signorina,” he said. I thought, “Women Artist for women president,”© project makes me very exited. Within minutes, we had landed.

In the Uber Fiat, I headed to Castel Gandolfo, a picturesque village just 25 kilometers from Rome, to stay at the beloved 4-star Hotel Villa degli Angeli on Via Spiaggia del Lago 32. Overlooking the serene, volcanic Lago Albano, the hotel seemed to hold its own secrets. What I encountered was this unique repertoire of a new art aroma experience.

I’m staying here for three days to curate and arrange art for the hotel’s remodeled lobby and dining room with some American artists. The management invested around $2 million in art at this Fall’s Rome Arte in Nuvola. Purchases include works by Donald Baechler, James Brown, Philip Taaffe, Arthur Duff, and Daniel Gonzalez. The hotel boasts a highly inventive, art-driven entertainment and PR program.

The art staging is titled: “Colazione sulla giacca,” rose to such allure that even Italy’s Class Life TV (by Class Editori) spotlighted this art extravaganzas. Many of the hotel’s guests are medium aged rich American bohemian’s aka bon vivant eccentrics. In the summer, they invite the artists to cook breakfast alongside the hotel chef, all clad in light pink, blue, or white jackets. As they cook, they get art rowdy, laugh and wipe their hands on each other’s jackets while preparing Frittata Rambolla, Eggs Florentine, and stuffed Marmalade Cornetti, ready ingredients.  

It’s funny, playful chaos, and the guests love joining in—reminding them of the wild energy in Animal House with John Blushi, the movie by Universal Pictures directed by John Landis. Breakfast unfolds like theater through the big kitchen windows, shown on two giant Sony Crystal screens. This is how Villa degli Angeli fills its rooms: not just with views, of the beautiful lake Albano, creating a unique, unforgettable social experience and indulging guests with life’s rare, uplifting moments.”©

After breakfast, some of the chef jackets—scrubbed clean of food and dried by Dyson Beauty Supersonic—are sealed with Aleene’s Clear Acrylic Spray. The 10×8 inches on canvas printed menu signed by the chef and the participants is glued onto each jacket, and the whole piece is pressed into a large double sided, Museo Acrylic frame that fits the jacket perfectly, ensuring near-hermetic preservation. These one-of-a-kind artworks are so unique that some are sold online, sparking fan creations inspired by the TFA series. It’s an experience you simply don’t want to miss.

This genre features stylized digital illustrations, often commissioned from jackets smothered in art colors. ©© Fans select artists to create stylized versions of the original paintings, typically without using computer-generated (CG) techniques. The artworks are sold through online platforms. Breakfast on the jacket—“Colazione sulla giacca”©—has fetched prices up to €3,000.

(To be continued.)

Manner of creation. © Registered (WGA), 04. 1977 c.l: Alex Haley vs Harold Courlander. (ARR)

*Note to the above novel chapter. This part of “literary essay”, shaped from the information a story shared with the writer, Mme. Juliette LaCroix, is published with the following disclosure by LaArtTV. The subject part: “Women Artists for Women for President,” by LaArtTV.com—an art performance extraordinaire, it’s location is a subject to change at the women artists’ request. Here, brands experience exposure as never before, standing at the crossroads of a new era social prestige, creativity, and explosive cultural influence. The ultimate laarttv motto: “Step up, shine, let your brand lead.” ©