Dec. 14th, first night in Paris

My anal chronological tendencies are kicking in as I try to share things from France two weeks ago while sitting in England at the wanning of our 6th day in Warwick.

I am thinking back to our hotel and its small bar/reception area. When we checked in at 8:30pm, a band called Akim was playing, and I liked immediately their sound. We dropped our luggage in our second floor room (3rd floor for Americans) and went off for a quick dinner.

When we returned, the music had changed to a duo with a woman singing. Didn't like her much, but, the original band came back on, and were great. We enjoyed this band for three consecutive evenings, despite the fact the songs were all the same, which gave me the chance to try and understand what I missed the first night. Each night, Akim played a set, then a short break followed by a duo of some sort performed for an hour, then another break, and Akim finished out the night.

The photo shows the writer and singer, Akim, the man. He was 'raconteur extraordinaire'. In addition to him were a drummer, bass guitar, and a piano, with the piano man and/or bassist singing harmonies. It was a small room, with the hotel reception tucked into one corner, and of course a small bar in addition to the seating area, which doubled as breakfast room in the morning.

Akim was the oldest of the musicians, and I could tell he'd been performing for years. He led into each song with a story, and fully engaged the members of the audience with his eyes and his smile. It was all in French of course, and he used his voice, whether in the storytelling or in the singing, to its full advantage. He understood dynamics, mood, style, and created a continuous flow from song to song. We were carried through a suite of songs where we traveled through images of boats, storms, candles, and we arrive in New York City's harbor where he sees the Statue of Liberty for the first time. His discourse comes into present times, how America has changed and become a destructive force in the world, and how Liberty needs to be freed: "Libérez la Liberté".

I include a few drawings I made of Akim while he was singing. He had a hairdo I adored, from the side, and I hope to paint him from a photo when I return to America. I wish there had been a CD.

Dec. 20 - 21: Warwick

We arrived in Warwick, England by train this past Wednesday night.

Martin's brother and his wife collected us at the station at 9:08pm. We greeted the English Spaniels, Poppy and Rosie, had dinner, chatted a bit and went to bed. Our nephew arrived the next evening, and we all attended a Christmas party a few steps down the street.

I had some interesting conversations with people who travel quite a bit: some spoke about invitations to Warwick Castle, just a few meters down hill to the right, when the castle plans special events as part of their 'good neighbor policy'. A second conversation was with a man about his upcoming fishing excursion in BC. He was a jolly sort with rosy cheeks and a resonant voice who has traveled quite a bit in America and other parts of the world.

Next Martin and I engaged in a long and fascinating conversation with John, a Warden of St. Mary's Collegiate Church, which is situated just left of the front door and up the hill a few meters. John gave us a great behind the scenes look at major restorations that have, and are, taking place either due to age, or previous repairs completed during the Victorian era before they understood the devastating effects that the materials used would cause over time.

Two stone angel carvings fell off the west wall of the interior near the gift shop, luckily when no one was around. The building inspectors were called in and discovered that the blocks of stone were melting away due to repairs completed over 100 years before, which trapped water in the stones instead of allowing it to run off.

New sandstone blocks were cut from the same quarry as the existing ones. Stone masons had to be found, and those with the knowledge to complete a job of this nature are few and far between. One of the two masons carved a replica of a Madonna and Child sculpture that had all but eroded away. The mason was able to work from the original drawings completed for that sculpture. 

Then one day they walked into The Beauchamp Chapel, where Robert Dudley is buried, and water covered the floor. Further investigation uncovered a leaking roof and rotting beams so deteriorated that in another six months the roof would have collapsed.

When they went up onto the roof, they discovered boot prints in the lead.

Who knew that well over 100 years ago, the men laying in this roof were required to place their boot print in the molten lead and sign and date it! John was amazed to see how small the size of the boot prints were. I would love to see those shoe prints.

Weather here is much warmer than Paris. I don't mind that, but I do miss hearing and speaking my bad French.

I attach photos of the church and one of  the double French school desk that I sat at in a small bar our last night in Paris. I felt very happy there writing cards and chatting in French with the young barman about a bust of a famous French chess player.

Goodnight, from our English bed in a beautifully restored 300 year old, 17 room restored home of elegance. 

Dec. 14th: we arrived in Paris

It was 33 hours between the time we left our house in Ohio on December 13th to the time we arrived in France the next evening! Thank heavens I fell asleep on the Eurostar train between London and Paris. It may have only been an hour, but it was a profound sleep, and I awoke refreshed.

We exited the station, jumped in a taxi, and I was hoping that my French would be good enough to speak to the driver and check in once we arrived at the hotel. It must have been okay, as the Parisians, so far, didn't answer me in English!

We checked into our room around 7:30pm and immediately went out in search of dinner. We ate a few doors down in an Algerian couscous restaurant. The weather in Paris was chilly on top of the hours we'd spent freezing in St. Pancras Train Station, in London, and soup sounded very good to us both. It was a hot and tasty lamb and couscous in a delicious broth. We followed that with a tasty chicken and veg couscous dinner. We ended with a glass of complimentary hot mint tea.

When we arrived back at our hotel1-1/2 hours later, we went into the bar/reception room/breakfast room,  where a four piece French band was playing. Akim was the name of the singer and of the band. We really enjoyed this band, and for the next two evenings, we looked forward to hearing Akim's stories and suite of songs, all in French.

1am arrived and we went to bed with a plan to head out for the huge Gauguin Retrospective at the Grand Palais the next day.

Fun in Paris

Schokolade, chocolat, チョコレート. It doesn't matter when It's so cute, or beautiful!

Bread

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

For days I wanted to take Martin to Poilâne for a Chasson aux Pommes, and I wanted him to see the beauty of their bread, even if he wasn't going to taste it.

In 2013, I bought a quarter loaf, sliced,  when I stayed for 12 days in a Paris apartment before I walked The Way of St. James. Each morning I ate a toasted slice each with a scramble of plein air eggs. Yum!

Here's a link to this small bakery, and some photos I took yesterday.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lionel_Poil%C3%A2ne

Typing mistakes and Graffiti

You know I hate typing mistakes, and by not re-readng the last couple of paragraphs of the cemetery post, I was horrified to see published so many errors at the end.

Please forgive me. I am working off my phone, tired, and old, but trying to get the story out.

Or as this cool botox gal indicates, shhhhh.

Oops! Cemitière Monmartre 2

Oops. Trouble posting from my phone.

Here are the 3 photos I mentioned in my last post. Hope the come through.

Re: Cimetière Montmartre

On Dec 19, 2017 18:22, debrajoycedawson@gmail.com wrote:

December 19, 2017

We've been in Paris for 6 days. Every minute we have been on the move flitting somewhere by Metro in the morning, and walking for the rest of the day, before returning to our garret well after dark.

We're not really in a garrett; we are on the 2ème étage of a quirky hotel in the 11th arrondissement called Les Chansonnières.  This establishment is 150 yards from the Ménilmontant Metro stop. Most mornings, we exit the hotel walk a few steps and enter the bakery to buy a croissant, before hopping on the metro to be whisked away to our day's destination. We are walking between 6 to 10 miles a day, and in this manner, we have managed to cover quite a bit of Paris.

Today is our last full day in Paris, and I am so very anal about chronological order that it pains me to start writing about our last full day first! But, here goes.

We decided to do a self-guided walking tour of Montmartre, after which we walked to Cimetière Montmartre. I'd heard that quite a few famous artsy folk are buried there. We arrived at 4:50 pm, with a closing time of 5:30 pm. Hardly enough time, as this city of the dead is wall to wall graves, mausoleums, narrow cobblestone paths, moss, and uneven stairways. It was once a mass burial ground in the time of the Revolution; today, today it is so jam-packed that even if you have a map you are hard pressed to find someone.

The entire place has a heavy feel with so much stone. We felt we had time to locate three graves: two writers, Victor Hugo and Stendahl, and the artist, Degas. We only found Hugo, and search as ee dod the yhe other two, we were forced by time to flee bevause I had no deaire to be loced in a cemetary on a cold and damp winter's night.

I share three photos: Martin with Victor Hugo; and with a monument that reminded me of the Tardis; and a beautiful bronze tomb sculpture.

Bonjour à Paris!

Paris is looking beautiful dressed up in trees and more.

Hello, again.

It's been well over a year since I posted to my blog, and I thought I would revive it today. I hope everyone is happy and healthy.

I am sitting with my husband in the Eurostar waiting lounge at St. Pancras, London. We've been traveling for over 24 hours now, and will arrive in Paris in a few hours.

I am sharing a painting that I did in late September of this year. It's the sixth painting of this farm about 5 miles from my home and studio. All the works have been done in a square format, all 6x6", except for this one, which is 8x8".

I am having trouble staying awake, so I will close this until tomorrow.

You have received a YouTube video!

Sending this from my phone and hoping this video trailer opens! Wednesday night, March 2nd, 7:00 PM, on WOSU's #BroadandHigh will highlight the exhibition of Art 360, 48 Ohio artists art on ostrich eggs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ3WD9M9Sn8&sns=em

Egg-development

I painted in all the darks of the mannequins first, mixing cool or warm blacks from ultramarine blue, pthalo blue, cad red light and quinacridone red.

Acrylics can be very transparent, so I would have to go over sections more than once.

These photos show the development of the most elaborately decorated dress on the egg. You see how the graphite was very sloppy, so I quickly blocked in some color to set the design.

I don't like acrylic because it dries a different color than I mix, but I fell in love with the quick drying time making it quick and easy to work all around the entire egg. Oils would have been a nightmare of time and logistics for me.

Egg-acting work!

I'm sitting in the airport in Baltimore, MD, heading for one of the greatest art capitals of the world, Italy. That means that once again, I am blogging from my phone.

It also means that I can only share a couple photos at a time with each post. Here are two photos from October 25, pencil drawings on top of the two coats of clear gesso that I applied to the ostrich eggshell. I was sorry to loose the semi-gloss appearance and lovely color, but I thought I'd paint in oils and wanted the paint to have something to adhere to.

The graphite was greasy and smeared easily. I decided to go over the lines in archival brown marker. But, getting bored quickly with that, I just started painting, only not in oils. I used acrylics, knowing that I could go over those in oils later. You know, the best laid plans of mice and men.

An Egg-citing Traveling Exhibition!

"Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends . . . . come inside, come inside" - my world.

My work of art wrapped up for yesterday's delivery.

Enter the door to Art 360: Contemporary Egg Hatching Across Ohio, an exhibition that will be traveling to three Ohio museums in 2016! The concept is the brainchild of Mr. Charles Bluestone, a Columbus lawyer and art enthusiast, and the exhibition will be comprised of 48 ostrich eggs, each decorated by a different Ohio artist who was invited to participate.

You can read the history of the exhibition and view all the eggs that have been photographed so far. My egg won't actually be on the website until sometime in December, and honestly, I don't know how they will photograph it. It just must be seen in person to fully appreciate it. But, you will be seeing it here, first, before anyone outside my family has seen it.

In my next few blog posts, I'll give you the title of the work, show progress photos, and talk about the materials and process.

Now, I want to ask you a question? Have you ever worked on a project using unconventional materials? If so you might answer yes or no, or share a photo and/or the story about your creation in the comments.

www.debrajoycedawson.com

Paris, August 1st

Wow! I needed to be on the 6am shuttle to the airport. My 4:30 alarm didn't go off and I woke up at 5:26. You never saw anyone get dressed and finalize packing so fast. I made it with time to spare.

My suitcase weighed 18.2 kilos. My backpack??? Heavy. And they searched every item in it, every pocket. The last pocket had a glass scraper in it! I didn't even know that I had it.

And you know, they gave it back to me! I've since thrown it away.

Photo from the airport.

July 31st, Friday: Je suis aller á Paris!

I have changed trains twice this morning and am now sitting in the station in Rennes. I need to use the toilet, so, having a second breakfast just to get some change.

I knew there was a reason to keep a little change. But it's so heavy with one and two Euro coins. Martin always spends the change. Today, I feel I am becoming Martin.

I don't really care about much today since making my 5 minute connection between trains at Dol-de-Bretagna, down and up the stairs with my suitcase and backpack. Now, all my worries have disappeared.

The train arrived at 8:45 and the TGV to Paris leaves at 10:05. Expected arrival time 13h11. If I get bored, I may venture into Paris, but I need the repack my luggage, putting the tubes of paint from my backpack into the suitcase. I sound like someone who thinks they will be in Paris again. I think that I am just plain tired and don't feel like fighting the transpiration any longer today.

I have un upgraded room, with a king sized bed, a tub and a shower, and plenty of room here at the Hilton Paris Charles de Gaulle. All thanks to Martin.

It's just coming to 4pm here. The day is still young, but I will relax here. I'm sure that you're all shaking your heads saying, "Is she crazy?"

July 30, Thursday: street musicians

They were everywhere!

In addition to the zither man, and Dame Béatrice, all dressed in white with an elbow length orange cape, there was an Irish fiddler.

But, the big jazz band of 12 musicians was the prize of the day. I try to attach a video, but it didn't post.

Thursday, July 30: A potter!

After I painted, I went back to La Belle Assise. Not sense carrying a backpack when all the panels held paintings.

I decided to revisit my favorite spots and do some drawing, or painting if it was possible in the crowds.

I came across a potter working with a clay called rose-gris??? Not sure. She said it kept a lovely color of red after firing. I really liked the bowl of water with holding her tools.

July 30, Thursday: a fun time painting!

The latest edition to my "27 Dresses Series".

Thursday, July 30: painting and pastis

Here's Billy with his first oil painting. I told his Dad that I'd done my first when I was 11 years old.

Dad offered me a coffee, or a Pastis. I chose the latter. Et, voila! It arrived at my easel.