Night Moves

If nightlife's global gypsies have a leader, it is André Saraiva. The graffiti artist-cum-nightlife entrepreneur has amassed quite an empire: Le Baron clubs in Paris and Tokyo (a Singapore outpost opens in late January); the Hôtel Ermitage in St. Tropez; other Parisian hotspots Hôtel Amour, restaurant Le Fidélité, lounge Le Montana and the shop Black Block; plus, the soon to be reopened Beatrice Inn in New York, of which he was an original partner. André, as everyone calls him -- no last name needed -- clocks more hours on planes and in hotels than he does in one city. When chez Paris, Hôtel Amour is Saraiva's "little hideaway." But Saraiva is rarely hidden. His fabulously huge circle of friends includes Purple magazine's Olivier Zahm (who recently put him on the cover), artists Dan Colen and Nate Lowman, actress Lou Doillon and every fashion designer and writer on the planet who calls Le Baron and the now seven-month-old Montana their favorite spots.

Saraiva approaches nightlife with his own reverse-snobbery. His door people, often painter pals, routinely reject models and moguls, while welcoming scruffy artists who pay for their drinks with art. "All the models and the bottles thing," Saraiva groans in a thick Parisian accent. "They are the worst people. Their lives are all about showing money."

Born in Uppsala, Sweden (birthplace of Ingmar Bergman), Saraiva moved to Paris at age ten. "Sweden is paradise for kids," he states proudly. "Everything is made for kids. You can go around everywhere on your bicycle. They teach you to be proud of yourself. They give you confidence." As a teen in Paris, Saraiva spent time in museums like the Centre Pompidou. "I used to hang out there. It was free. I would bring a girl and kiss in the galleries," he remembers. "It was a playground for us. That's how I learned about art."

Around 1988, Saraiva started doing graffiti. His tag was not a name, but rather "Mr. A," a winking stick figure with a top hat. He got arrested hundreds of times. Often the police would rap on his door holding a summons, having spotted Mr. A on a sign or a wall. Soon kids started copying Mr. A. "We reinvented graffiti. Mr. A became a character who had his own life. Instead of writing my name, I did a very simple drawing so everybody could understand it. And the top hat gave it a little French chic, a little dandy."

A few years later, Saraiva started doing "Love Graffiti," tagging girlfriends' names in bold bubble letters. The project, which he continues to this day, all started because he wasn't good at writing love letters. In 2002, gallery Air de Paris held a show of the love graffiti and tons of commissions followed. Those who buy Saraiva's pieces receive a certificate with a photo of the graffiti, a document that resembles the criminal reports Saraiva is issued from the police. "It's an ongoing project," he says. "I still add names." Whenever he travels, Saraiva carries a book to draw in. "I paint a lot. And in the countries where I don't have a police record, I don't care, so I'll tag. I still do graffiti. That's my soul."

Reopening the West Village's infamous Beatrice Inn in the next few months is his latest challenge. The small club was constantly slammed with fines and neighborhood complaints before being shuttered by the city's Department of Buildings last April. Saraiva is passionate about reopening the space with "a bit more mature" look. "Over the last few years, New York is not the old New York from the '80s," he says. "New York goes through cycles. It has to change. I love Beatrice. It's my favorite. We have to do all this legal stuff, like add new exits. New York is tough, but we fight for it."

Putting Beatrice back on the New York disco map might be a battle, but Saraiva is pumped to win. "Youth and the night have always been the base of New York," he explains, before racing to his photo shoot at Montana. "Night is a space for freedom. Underground culture goes on at night. The night is not a moment in time; it's a space to create."