Paris: Locks of Love

A few years ago, someone decided to place a lock on Pont l'Archeveche. Or possibly, it may have started on Pont des Beaux Arts. No matter where, it became an overnight success, and you may be disappointed when you can't find a spot to lock on.

Clearly, some people come here with their lock all prepared, engraved with their names, while others secretly, and with much happiness and love in their hearts, secretly tuck their special lock into their case or pocket and just wait until the moment they get to the bridge.

The locks must work. My first day here, I captured a bride and groom. Picture not showing on my end, so not sure it will come through.

Who am I to judge? An economy of locks has put people to work, and the Seine is filling up with keys. You can purchase one here. I'VE SEEN PRICES FROM €1 - €7, quickly marked down to €5, and I haven't even been looking.

I think I still prefer the Irish 'oath stone', a standing stone with a hole in it where Martin married me again last year. Just call me a romantic.

PARIS: Breakfast chez-moi

Thursday last week I went to the twice weekly market on St. Germain. It's about a 5 minute walk from my Rue Malebrancge studio.

The fromageur had on display 8 of these cheeses called "The Compostella". You see the symbol of St. Jacques stamped into the cheese.

I just had some of this cheese on toast. It's a goat's cheese I believe, but soft like a Brie. I tasted it, and liked it- you just don't know with some cheese, do you? But it was lovely, and really tasty with a little strawberry jam.

And, I made the last two plein air eggs. Great breakfast, but I need my cafe creme.

My suitcase is pretty much packed for my trip to St. Malo tomorrow morning.

I know I've been a little lax about blogging, but I have been walking and painting everyday. 10 paintings in 10 days. Not too bad, considering rain, theatre and a couple concerts and museums.

Which is worse?

Which is worse, Dali looked inside a shop window peering out, or Frankenstein's monster pinned to a gate on Blvd. San Germain at night?

Rodin: Camille Claudel

Some works by Rodin of his mistress, and a master sculpture in her own right, Camille Claudel.

Her's was a tragic story, if you're interested you should look her up.

Noisy here this morning!

Good motning.

I may as well get up since there are doors banging and heels clapping, and now happy voices of the young.

I left here yesterday and walked what was a more direct route to the Louvre. Went down rue Bonaparte and stopped at Les Deux Magots for coffee. May happy singing waiter servrd me. There is nothing so wonderful as happy, efficient, singing waiter in a good cafe in Paris!

Then just across Bd. San Germain, the quai and the bridge and I was in the area of the Louvre/Tuilleries. I thought I might paint Napoleon's arch, but it was filled with people, so I walked under it entered les jardins. I thought they did the boats there in a pond, but there weren't any.

It took me an incredibly long time to decide on what to paint. Irises were blooming every where, gleaming statues, and two goats clipping the grass in a ravine that would be hard to cut.

I had several things in mind, finally said to myself, do something manageable. Severable people came to talk in French or English. I finally asked a woman from Australia if she'd take a photo of me with my phone. She was happy to do it for me.

Musee Rodin

Year's ago, the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC housed a large exhibition on Rodin. It was marvelous; recreated his studio with his works all throught the exhibition.

The jewel in the crown of that exhibition was a new casting of his Gates of Hell. It was awe inspiring then, and even more so a few days ago when I came face to face with all of the preparatory studies in plaster, in stages, of varying sizes. And then the bronzes in varying sizes.

And that was just for this one major work. So here are just a few photos of the working out of ideas, and a casting of the work itself sitting in the garden in the rain.

Paris, another incident

David told me yesterday about the suicide at the altar of Notre Dame. I never saw anything about it on the BBC news channel. I had just been there the night before for a service, and there was no security at all.

I am going back today with my backpack and climb the tower. I suppose they'll let me take it?

I did get searched two evenings ago before climbing the Arc de Triomphe.

Last evening after a morning walk and an afternoon of painting, I walked across one of the bridges to Ile Saint Louis, the small island. There was a crowd on the bridge. They wete all looking at the river. I strolled over to investigate. Apparently, a man jumped into the Seine from the next bridge up. The police and rescue guys were they. Four frogmen wete in the water searching. Haven't heard a thing on the news about this.

I watched the frogmen thinking how wonderful they are to put their lives in danger.

There was sun this morning. Hope I didn't miss it.

Paris Companions

David and Janet flanking Sasha in front of Gerard Mulot. Inside this store are some miraculous treats for your tastebuds!

Coffee

1. Cafe alongee noisette, Cafe Luxembourg in my neighborhood. I added a little sugar to this one, remembering Italy two years ago and how they said a little would bring out the sweetness of the coffee.
2. Cafe au lait, on Rue des Rosiers in the Marais. This cup was heaven itself. It was more like a latte in the states, but that foam on top was thick, like an airy marshmellow. I was self-indulgent and had two of these.

Paris Market: Plein Air Chickens!

It's official, even chickens paint plein air! Of course it was an open air market.

Paris Day 4: a day of surprises!

My alarm didn't ring yesterday; and it didn't make a sound this morning either. So, I woke but fell back to sleep.

The phone rang at 10:00 AM. It was Janet. We met at noon and met at the Palais de Luxemburg for an exposition of paintings by Marc Chagall. I was surprised to see all the different mediums he used. There were magnificent drawings in pen and ink. Some of these seemed almost etching like. He used watercolor and gouache, there was a series of dry point prints, graphite drawings, and of course his oils. It was really wonderful to see this retrospective of more than 6 rooms and get a greater sense of who and what this artist did.

Janet's her husband, David, and I were joined by a young woman named Sasha, who had gone to school with their son at Goucher College in Maryland. Sasha was delightfully stylish, in addition to being intelligent and in full command of the French language.

We all went to lunch at a swank Cafe des Editors, and they was a woman squeezed in beside us that had a manuscript she was editing. Honestly, we were all squeezed in like sardines, the French way. Where they put the fat, ?????

I had scallops (ST. JACQUES) in honor of my upcoming walk. They were laying on a bed of fluffy, light as air, celery root puree, and covered with a foam of something. The menu said "emulsion of lard fume". I didn't taste bacon or smoke, and it was the first foam I've seen or eaten in person in person. (You know you see it on the Food Channel from time to time.)

We exited the cafe and said our goodbyes to Sasha. There in from of the cafe was a large tree in bloom, with books hanging in it. I felt a little sorry for them hanging out in the rain.

David wanted to walk, and went his way. Janet was going to go back to her apartment, but decided to walk with me for a while. We headed in the direction of the Seine.

Soon after turning on to Rue des Ecoles, we happemed upon an art supply store. I'd been to Equisse my second dau here, but the windows were so wonderful, and when I looked inside everthing was magnificent to see, so in we went.

Charvin was the brand. Located at 57 quai des Augustins. Of course I didn't need anything, but I bought a palette knife, a tube of oil color - I told Janet to pick one, a hard bound sketchbook - something I wouldn't take because it's heavy, and of all things, a painters smock that was designed for, or after, Corot's. Jean-Phillip was very nice. He modeled the smock and let me take lots of photos of the boutique.

Back on the street, Quasimoto's bells were calling the faithful and the tourists to mass. I went, and Janet went home. I was happy to hear the organ, and made a couple quick sketches in my book.

I walked home in the rain, happy. My day had been filled with great company and lovely surprises. Paris, it's pretty magical.

An American Day

The first photo is what I attempted painting today. Second is outside the Bombadiers Pub as I left. Third, a statue next to the Pantheon, and I want a photo of this in daylight, someone has a sense of humor!

My first day here was a French Day. From the moment I met my taxi drive, Enzo, all through our hour drive to my studio apartment just near the Pantheon, I was forced to speak French. It was hard, but very good for me. That continued throughout the day, and I got several good comments on my French.

Yesterday, I spent a few hours painting, so less speaking. But there seems to be a trend shifting to more English speaking. Not good. First of all, I have finally done on this trip something that I have rarely done in my 32 years of travel, tried to call home. As if email isn't more than enough contact. But Tango, once you get it working, now has me video conferencing with my Sherpa husband, who is home weeding our much neglected garden.

Today, however was definitely an American Day. First off, I met Janet. She is staying 5 minutes from here, on the other side of the Pantheon. We went for breakfast. She speaks fabulous French, but all was in English. Even folks talking to me today spoke English.

I packed in my painting, when it started to rain pretty hard, and headed home to have lunch. I worked on my painting, but I think it's heading for the pile of shame. Then, since I am in Paris, I felt I should be out somewhere, right?

I decided I'd go to 'Bombadiers', an English type pub that another student in my class recommended. The bar is just 3 minutes walk from my place. It was mobbed, and no one was leaving. I ordered a pint of Bombadier Bitter and stood drinking. Two young women passed me looking for a table. They got lucky, and so did I. They let me share their table.

We got to talking, they were in their very early 30's and living in France. One was engaged to a Frenchman, the other (and many others that came) we Americans teaching English in France.

It was trivia night, and I was with two tables of Americans. Fun, but I have to get back to French, and find some good dry spots to paint since it will be raining most of this week.

Paris bakery

I'm posting this for my friend, Edie, but I know you will all enjoy it.

Lokk at the size of the brioche on the top shelf! I decided to take one back to my apartment and possibly paint it.
This is the start of my third day here, and I am just back from a rendez-vous with my fellow French student, Janet. We had coffe and an omelette,  and then went to the bakery.

It's supposed to start raining, so I am on my way out to do a quick painting.

My Trip of a Lifetime!!!!

Trip of a Lifetime!
Now this is really saying something, isn't it?

Not the hat I'm taking, but me on a fine spring day, taking the backpack out for a walk.

Those of you that know me well, know that I'd rather be on the road, but this is a road trip that has consumed me since I made my final decision to go forward with a my plan to walk 450 miles on the Camino Frances to the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. This route has been taken by pilgrims since the 9th century, with the height of the pilgrimage in the 11th & 12th centuries.

Two and a half months on the road for me. Funny thing, I always planned on doing this alone, but life happens and it's amazing the connections that have come about since I first planned my trip.

Here's my itinerary:
I am leaving Thursday, May 16, 2013
- 12 days in Paris - possibly 2 - 3 day trips by train to nearby towns
- Move on by train to St. Malo. I will meet up with a painting group from England
- I move on from St. Malo with the group in a mini-van and we paint for 7 days on l'Ile de Re (sorry about the lack of accents.
- The group retraces their steps, while I move to St. Jean-de-Luz on the southwest coast of France for 4 days.
- Then one last train trip take me to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port. While I'm on that train, my daughter, Monica will be on a plane to Paris.
- Monica takes a train from Paris to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, we rest for a day.
- June 14, we start our pilgrimage walk on the Camino Frances de Santiago de Compostela. 726 km, about 450 miles.
- Our plan is to be in Santiago de Compostela on July 23 to be there in time for St. James's Feast Day (July 25) for all the festivities.
- From there, we will walk another 3 days - or take a bus - to Finisterre, depending on our level of fitness. I believe that is another 50 miles or so, but not totally sure.
- Right now there is a hole in our schedule of 3 - 4 days, but we will finally arrive in Madrid for 5 nights before flying home on Aug. 6

Of course, people have asked for travel logs. People are excited, but worried at the same time. I feel the same way. Trust me, this is no light undertaking for me and these last few days have been frantic, but now my Camino backpack is packed, and my suitcase for France is packed, and I leave momentarily for the airport. Of course I want to communicate with you all, but I also want the luxury of tuning out of technology and experiencing life to it's fullest, living in the moment.

Blogging is a job in itself, and I won't do it to the extent that I did last year with my Irish trip. What I learned on that trip, just in the Chicago airport was, that in trying to write and post photos you are only as good as your wi-fi band width, and the number of people that are using it at the same time. From India we tried to write about once a week from Internet centers on computers, when possible, but as much as our friends asked for photos, it was impossible to do.

I think it will be fairly easy to post from France. But I am not at all sure from Spain. I can't promise anything except to try to write once in a while from Spain. I love it when you write, but I cannot say that I will be able to answer, especially if I have a pack of young whipper snappers breathing down my neck to use the wi-fi.

If you know of anyone that would like to read my musings from the road, please tell them to sign up for my blog, or my newsletter on my website. I am not sure which will work better at this point, but I will try the blog first.

Thank you all in advance for your good wishes. I write this is a hurry as I am not off for the airport in a few.

I will try and write from NYC!

Wild and Wonderful in Havana!

"Cuban Girls" 9" x 12", Oil on RayMar Panel

The arts were alive and well, and greatly respected in Cuba.

It was a Sunday afternoon in November. A party atmosphere enveloped me. Every inch of this narrow alleyway was covered in murals and sculpture. Even the air was pulsing with the life of  loud, live music infused with intoxicating African rhythms making it impossible to stand still.

I spent time taking photos and was beguiled by the little girl on the right who was sitting on a doorstep with lips and cheeks covered in powdered sugar from a bite into a piece of cake so large that it barely fit into her tiny hand. I offered her two coins for a photo, and the word spread.

All was in motion when I set up my easel, and a group of children gathered around me watching and jockeying for position. The two young girls got tired of fighting to see over the others and went to rest on a narrow ledge. I saw a painting! They agreed to pose, and I painted while looking through and around the crowd. Imagine trying to paint immersed in this chaotic scene, while answering questions and trying to keep a watchful eye on your equipment. It was like India all over again!

Warm Memories for a Dreary Day

2008 Bath Abbey. This church is noted for the carvings
of angels that are climbing the ladders to heaven.

It's a bit dreary today in central Ohio, so a good day to revisit one of my favorite cities in England.

BATH

I first visited this lovely city in January of 1983, on my maiden voyage across the pond. I was traveling with the Ancient Studies Department of UMBC, and the city was a favorite of the professor that led this excursion. I had just met my future husband a month before my trip, and he advised that I look for a very, very strong cider called, Scrumppy. He made it sound very appetizing, with 'green bits' floating in it, but to this day, I have never tasted it.

25 years later, I made my second trip to Bath with my husband.

 

Sculptures line the upper ledge of the ancient Roman baths.
The Great Bath was once covered, and one of the largest buildings
that most people in the Roman England would have seen.
It is now open to the sky.

We were there for only a few hours, just long enough to take the self-guided tour of the Roman Baths. I was surprised at how organized and extensive the tour had become in the past two and a half decades. Martin, my engineer and Sherpa, was happy to see the workings of the baths and the heated flooring system exposed with full explanations on our audio-guides.

The King's Bath above, was and still is, my favorite part of the baths. The source feeding these thermal baths is located in this area. People would sit in the niches in heated water up to their necks!

From the Roman Baths website: "The pediment of the ancient temple carries the image of a fearsome head carved in Bath stone and it is thought to be the Gorgon’s head, which was a powerful symbol of the goddess Sulis Minerva."

I went back to Bath in June 2010 with my husband, my daughter, and our 10 year old granddaughter. This time, Martin and I went painting, while the two gals went in to see the baths. We found them later in the Tea Rooms having lunch. After a cup of tea and a scone, we paid for a cup of the 'clean bath water' from the source. It tasted awful, but supposed to have wonderful curative properties, and it seems that I've lived to tell this tale.

While in Bath, we saw a excellent exhibit of oil paintings by Neil Pinkham. I was given their last copy of the costly exhibition catalog for free by the enthusiastic assistant gallery owner when I told him that I was also an artist. Upon our return to the USA, I went online to research some things in Bath and learned about the Bath Competition, which was going on while we were there and was still underway.

Someday I want to go back to Bath and take part in that event, but until then, I just looked at all the paintings online and found for the first time the name Adebanji Alade. The link is to his blog. He had won the plein air prize the year before, and I read all about his plein air marathon during this competition.

        Peter Brown studio painting of the Great Bath, 28 x 40"

What marvelous work this man does en plein air and in the studio.

Here's a short but wonderful documentary video on two artists from Bath, England one of whom is Peter Brown.

Directed and edited by Liam Southall
Camera by James Trosh, Toby Dale and Liam Southall

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

A stained glass image of the Saint, himself.

Wishing everyone a very nice St. Patrick's Day, and especially to the Irish relatives.

Martin wearing his FBI shirt, he is a 'Full Blooded Irishman'.

Dinner tonight in our house: savoy cabbage (my father-in-law's favorite, and mine too), carrots and red potatoes, and the corned beef is cooking away right now. Martin said in his Irish household, they ate boiled bacon and cabbage.

I was going to try my hand once again at Irish soda bread, from Aunt Kitty in Cleveland, but we went out last night to celebrate St. Patty's Day early, and were hitting the whiskey a bit, so . . . .

Figure Drawing with Dennis Drummond

Dennis Drummond drawings in soft black charcoal on brown and white paper.

It's almost a year since I enrolled in a figure drawing class with Dennis Drummond. Mr. Drummond is a Professor Emeritis of the Columbus College of Art and Design.

His reputation preceded him. Among other things, he taught portraiture at CCAD, while I was in the next studio studying under Neil Riley in a class called 'painting' (we were painting nude and clothed figures). His studio adjoined to Riley's, and I always enjoyed walking through Mr. Drummond's class before entering mine. The easels were covered in his students' paintings, and they were working on placing spots of paint in varying colors and values that would read as light on form? This was the 2nd semester of 1990.

Each week, Dennis would make two or three drawings of the skeleton: front, side, back, and sometimes a top view. As the classes progressed he would add the muscles in colored chalk over top the skeleton.

Fast forward to last year: I attended a meeting of the Collage of Women Artists, and Dennis Drummond was the speaker. I'd never spoken to him, I'd just heard him spoken of. He was interesting for sure. While some might consider his self-introduction and discussion of his skills as bragging, it wasn't. It was the truth. He really IS as good as he said he was! If you ever get the chance to study with him, don't hesitate.

Hernia anyone?

A month later, I was sitting in his class. In the 8 weeks that I was there, I personally never got a good drawing. He told us we'd have to forget everything that we had learned. I had no problem with that position, and I did try to erase my memory and my training in drawing. But I didn't have the time or the practice to internalize his method. He was teaching figure drawing the way that Michelangelo learned to do it; where my history had been with line.

We were to take copious notes, and make the drawings of the skeleton and muscles right along with him. One of the young female students brought her video camera and tripod each week and videotaped all of his lectures. At some point, I decided to also take a few videos. I hope that you have enjoyed them, even though they aren't the best. Mostly, this is just a thank you to this great teacher for his years of dedication to his craft, and to his students.