FM: Tibor and I had a very close friend, the person who introduced us, who was one of the first ones to die. He died in ’87, in a way that we were not happy about. He got way too much treatment that was not needed. That’s when I started to be involved with the right-to-die movement. Tibor and I did those political ads together, and we had fun doing it. It just took off, and we realized that it created an aura for the restaurant. It became more than just a place to eat; it became a home; it was a community.
NM: Tell me about your involvement with the Compassion In Dying organization.
FLORENT: My grandmother was living with us when I was younger, and she was ill. And she died at home. When she [had a crisis] she was allowed to go, there in her own room. It was difficult to see this, especially for my mother, but this was the way she wanted it. And her family was there. I learned to be calm and accept death. When the AIDS crisis came in, I already had that in my experience. Compassion in Dying is about making choices, to die with dignity.
NM: [On the walls of the restaurant are many drawings done by Florent years ago.] Tell me about your drawings, your maps. It’s reminding me of that Italo Calvino novel, Invisible Cities.
FM: I started doing the maps even before I studied urban planning. Yes, I draw maps of imaginary cities and countries; I’ve done it since I was 10 or 12. And my parents said I should be doing urban planning, to turn a habit into something constructive.
NM: Is it that you just love maps?
FM: Yes, yes. I love maps, especially contemporary ones. The other day I went to the map store and bought the latest maps of China. I needed to see how China is building a whole network of motorways. North-south, east-west—it’s mind-boggling. I like to see countries getting into modernity, and one way to see that is the motorways and the railroads they’re building. When you see Canton, Macau, Hong Kong, the building is insane. You can see the eminence of China, what’s going on there by looking at a map. I like old maps, too.
This is one I did when I was 22; it’s a dense country. I call this one Lowlands, a little like Holland or Belgium. You have coal mines, you can see the heaps, where the dirt from the mines are, the seam of coal here, and the marshes.
NM: What is it about urban planning that appealed to you? Did you ever think, I’d like to be like [New York City’s “master builder”] Robert Moses?
FM: Absolutely. Part of me is the good guy, like the beginning of Robert Moses, and part is the monster. I’m fascinated by the monstrosity of the late Robert Moses, the ugliness. I love to see the falling of the megalopolis. When I hear what’s happening with certain cities, I love to get the map and see the superhighways go in and destroy them—I have a sick pleasure in seeing that happen. At the same time, reading about Portland and the very smart things they’ve done with roads, and it’s so wonderful to see. I was there not long ago. Portland is wonderful.
NM: What’s in your mind when you’re drawing the maps—a story?
FM: It grows organically. This one, I started with a city on top of a hill, and it was going to be the seat of the king and of the church. And then I created the side for the merchants. And they grew into one. The king was very powerful, and the new palace was like the Louvre with paintings inside. Eventually the [city] walls were demolished to make boulevards. It’s a takeoff on Paris.
See, then the emperor came and put his own arc of triumph there. There’s an awful revolution and they build an ugly church to redeem people, like in Montmartre. The king’s policies led him to build his own version of Versailles.
[We’re looking at another map now.] Here I built a whole new town with skyscrapers in the middle. It’s a takeoff on a town in the Netherlands, a Brave New World of public housing. You see these places on the outskirts of Paris as well.
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