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Message started by Admin on Apr 8th, 2009 at 1:21am

Title: 10 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Apr 8th, 2009 at 1:21am
"He who will not apply new remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest innovator."    Sir Francis Bacon

April showers are upon us in Connecticut.  A damp, cold weekend and driving rain on Monday have kept me from writing artnotes.  I don’t know how I lived in the rain for so many years, in Seattle and then Paris.

Paris applied delightful remedies to the rain:  intimate café lighting, cozy places, museums full of colorful paintings.   Even in the cold and damp, a walk by store windows never failed to delight us.

My personal escape from the rain is reading:  I’ve been reading books by Amitav Ghosh.  I lie on the sofa afterward and think:  of how and why the world works the way it does.  Lately, our friend, S, has been coming to visit from New York – we have rousing discussions in English.

On Sunday Blair and I and Harika decided to walk around New Haven, Connecticut.  We live just a few miles from there; in fact, Branford was once part of New Haven when it was settled in the 17th century.

We had originally planned to go to an exhibit of Arabic printing at one of Yale’s libraries (there are several, including the spectacular Beineike Library, which houses an original Gutenberg Bible).   We could not find parking nearby, so we drove to a distant corner.

Harika bounded from the car, greeting a man on the sidewalk.  Fortunately, he was delighted.  People in New Haven are friendly, for the most part.  City people have evolved to accept their neighbors, unlike folks in the country, who build fences.

We walked toward the green and Yale.  Yale is the heart of New Haven, and its buildings, from the very old to very new are interesting.  It is said some of New Haven’s streets are living museums:  so much of our nation’s history took place there in the 17th and 18th centuries.

New Haven has had many incarnations -- it was an area Jewish people immigrated to; later Blacks and Puerto Ricans came.  The largest population of greater New Haven is Italian American.  The Black Panther Party trial of Bobby Seale and others took place in New Haven in 1970.   The Schubert theatre in New Haven was a famous testing ground for Broadway plays.  I was mugged in New Haven in 1978.  The harbor is large and active.

There are few shop windows in New Haven.  Urban renewal of the 1960s  destroyed old neighborhoods; major highways cut up the city.   A major architectural movement, Brutalism, took place in New Haven – the name alone gives the impression (actually, "brut" came from the French description of rough, unfinished concrete).  Our visiting friend grew up in New Haven, before his family moved to Orange, Connecticut in the 1960s, when middle-class families fled to the suburbs.  We walk on, sit in the green, and chat up other dog owners.

The trees are on the brink of blooming.  I found some branches on the sidewalk a month ago and put them in water.  This weekend they burst into cherry blossoms.

Laurie (painting and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
"Cherry Blossom"   Acrylic on wood  6 x 20 inches  $150.00
Lauriecherryblossom4-7-9.jpg (169 KB | )

Title: Re: 2 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Apr 15th, 2009 at 9:10am
We're working hard to get ready for High Point , North Carolina Market 25-30 April!    Laurie and Blair


Paris Artists showing at High Point Market

Blair and Laurie PESSEMIER, fine art painters from Paris, will be showing their work at the Bernard Christianson Showroom at the ATRIUM on MAIN this April Market.

Blair and Laurie have been showing their artwork at market since 1999.  They have created strategic and aesthetic liaisons with a number of showrooms, to offer their one-of- a-kind pieces to Furniture Market Buyers.

The Pessemier live in Paris, France and in Connecticut.   Their work, in oil and acrylic,  is impressionistic in nature, brightly colored and spontaneous.  Both paint outdoors and in the studio, with subject matter ranging from landscape to portraiture to florals.   Blair and Laurie have won awards for their work both in France and the US.  They have shown their paintings in Europe and Asia, as well as North America.

They will have over 50 paintings for sale, framed and unframed, at the Bernard Christianson Furniture Showroom located in the Atrium on Main, 430 South Main St., High Point.   Custom work on request.

Showroom:  646.554.5878\  Cell:  860.484.1096
Lauriecyclamen4-3-9.jpg (24 KB | )

Title: Re: 2 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Bob_Abrahams on Apr 15th, 2009 at 1:06pm
All the best for your showing.
I hope you have a sellout

Title: Re: 3 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Apr 19th, 2009 at 11:22am
As we get ready to go sell our 80 plus paintings in High Point, North Carolina, I have been thinking about ART.   I wrote this little ditty about original art, and thought I would share it with my "artnotes" readers.

Original Art for Interiors

Buying art can seem a daunting task.  You set out to buy a large landscape but find yourself looking at three small still life studies.  That’s the thing:  art isn’t specific.  It’s not an 84” long sofa nor a 10 x 12’ area rug.  It’s an expression:  of yourself, your interior, and the artist who created the image or sculpture.

For the buyer, it’s an investment in the future: it says on this day at this time, this work reflects who I am.

Artwork develops in your home.  Over weeks, months and years you discover new aspects of the piece which surprise and delight you.  You will never buy anything as rewarding as original artwork.

What is original art?

Original art is a one-of-a-kind, or one of a small series of artwork executed by the artist.  Paintings, watercolors, drawings and sculpture are what we think of as original art.  But there are other media such as cut paper, pottery, mixed media (installations) and handmade furnishing items.

Sculpture can be made in multiples.   Because bronze is costly and difficult to work with, for example, the artist will make a few examples (usually 12)  of each piece and then break the mold.   Some lithographs, and silk screens, created by the hand of the artist or in his or her studio, are considered originals.

It is pretty clear when one reaches the realm of “un” original work: namely, mass-produced for the marketplace, regardless of medium.

Why buy original art?

Original art provides a unique signature to a room.  That same “spark” isn’t evident in mass-produced material.

Original art sets a room apart from others with the same furniture, carpet and lighting.   Most furnishings are mass produced, to make them affordable.  I see the same sofa at everyone’s house, and lighting is almost a standard.  What makes a room SNAP is the artwork.

A painting never loses its value, and often increases in value.  Sotheby’s isn’t auctioning off posters or prints.   It pays to invest in quality artwork.    

The physical presence of art is a testimonial to the era in which it was created.  It is living history.  Christo’s running fence was made of nylon.   The Impressionists  painted with oil paint that came in tubes.  Acrylic paint, alkyds, and fiberglass are technical innovations which bespeak their period.

There is no longer Indian yellow paint (made from elephant urine).  When designs from Chinese pottery began showing up in Iran it was clear Ghengis Khan was there.  Certain marble is no longer available from any quarry.  Digital artwork is only as good as the hardware it is played on.  It will be interesting for future collectors to see how it fits in.

Subject matter bespeaks its time.  It is not the historians who make up the history of art.  Art speaks for itself.  The kids’ portrait over the fireplace tells us that the baby boomers wore white gloves, but children of the millennium do not.  My grandmother sits two feet away from my grandfather in her wedding portrait; no kissing in 1913.  There were no mechanical sanders in Caillebotte's Wood Floor Planers.

Inspiration or accessory?

A Normandy landscape with a slate grey sky, a line of deep turquoise on the horizon, a swath of an acid yellow field above a green foreground sets the palette and proportion of color for a room.   Grey walls, a deep green carpet are offset by turquoise and brilliant yellow accessories.

Usually, the painting is the finishing touch to an interior.   You look around, and your eyes rest on the painting on the wall.

The subject, as well as the color, sets the direction for the room.  A case of fluttering paper butterflies provides a light, lyrical feel to a hotel lobby.  A portrait of a soldier speaks of masculinity.    The same room changes completely when those two works of art are reversed.

You can move artwork around a house or suite of offices to refresh a room.  Changing a frame can make a subject contemporary or classic.   A sculpture invites people to walk around it.

The American embassies maintain a stock of original art, at the disposal of ambassadors and their designers.  A painting in Tunisia might have once hung in China.   So it can be with commercial design:  a collection of original artwork can move between offices and lobbies, conference rooms and libraries.

How do you buy original artwork?

Buy art where you find it.  Some artists sell directly, at art fairs and open studio events.  Buying directly from the artist can add personal value to the piece.  The artist can share with you his or her inspiration, and the stories surrounding the work.   (we sell direct, wherever we can)

Galleries are another way to go.  A gallery generally markets an artist’s work for a small fee.  The gallery can help insure the quality of the piece, and provide delivery services.  Often a gallery will take back a piece in trade for another, some years down the road.  An artist may or may not do this.

Art, particularly that of non-living artists, might be sold at auction.  What you see is generally what you get at auction.  The same goes for work purchased at flea markets or antique fairs.

Many people have fear that original art will be too expensive.  This is not always the case, particularly in buying work of newer artists, or purchasing art for decoration, or directly from the artist.    Framing costs have decreased significantly through the Internet.    

Don’t be too rigid in your artwork requirements.  An 8 x 10 inch Vermeer  has the power of an 8 x 10 foot Rubens.   Three small paintings on a wall can be far more interesting than one big work.   Those three paintings can move elsewhere in the house when it’s time for a change; that’s not necessarily so with a big one.

Start small.  If you buy four pieces of artwork a year, in five years you’ll have a good collection.  As you buy you will start to know what you like, and can move on in that direction.

Artwork makes good gifts.   Children will fight over it after you’re gone.  Or they might name a museum room after you.

Meanwhile, you will be surrounded by beauty, which is bound to make your life better.

Laurie (text) and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
"Oleander"  M. Blair PESSEMIER  Oil on canvas 20 x 20inches $325.00
Cell:  860.484.1096
showing this market, at Bernard Christianson, in the Atrium on Main, 430 S. Main, High Point, NC
Laurieoleandermbpw4-19-9.jpg (278 KB | )

Title: Re: 4 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Apr 26th, 2009 at 7:56pm
“This table is reduced 50 percent”, the woman in a deep green dress with an apricot shawl announces to the big old man with her.  “It should be,” he grumps.  The five foot diameter dining table, with an inlaid marble top, would have retailed for $7,500 just a year ago -- today it is selling for 1,600.   It is beautiful and refined, like her.

I try to put these negative comments out of my mind, but it is clear that the majority of people at this High Point Furniture Market are DOWN.  For every positive person there are a  dozen negative ones to throw cold water .  I can’t understand it:  90 percent of the US population is working.

We’ve yet to sell a painting, but other very positive things have taken place.  We now have representation for our work in New York and New Jersey.   Blair and I will represent Bernard Christianson furniture in New England, France and old England.  I feel terrifically optimistic.

Yesterday we bought champagne, and toasted Napoleon, who always took Moet Chandon with him on his campaigns.  “If I have success, I deserve it; if I don’t, I will need it”.   Our toast was someplace in the middle.

I have had great conversations with people from all corners of the country:  a man from Cincinnati who plays percussion; a woman from North Carolina selling rhinestone cowboy boots; a friend, E, who has survived her first Chicago winter.    We’ve several days to go, and I look forward to enjoying more.

The US furniture market has undergone a complete metamorphosis.   This market is now 100 years old, and it is on its knees.  Originally, furniture was made here in North Carolina.  There are people who would like to bring that back.  But I can tell you if you saw some of the things being produced  in the USA now, versus those items executed in Phillipines, China or Vietnam, you would not be so keen on the idea.  

Earlier this year, Blair and I proposed an item, made in the USA, for a hotel in Connecticut.  When the sample nightstand arrived, it looked as if the sides had been spray painted brown.  In fact, they had, overspray spilling into the drawer.  

In every showroom at High Point Market is an owner, a receptionist and a bank of representatives awaiting “buyers” from their region.  Over the past few years, a new face has emerged:  the factory owner.  In our case, it’s C, and he’s very professional and interested in the reactions of the public.

Our stellar piece this market is a desk, modeled after a Venetian antique, with an intricately carved drop front.  The wood is a lacy elm burl, and the hardware is made specially, using a lost wax bronze pour.  It is fairly priced, quite economically, when you consider what a piece like this might have actually cost in 18th century Venice.  Furniture produced in Asia allows the price to remain low, while exhibiting fine workmanship.    Other pieces here are chock full of marquetry, and exquisite fret work.    Blair bought a mirror so large it won’t fit in our home, and a down cushioned bench.

I talk with K, a 30-something woman who grew up in the furniture business, and studied advertising and branding.  She’s responsible for our lovely invitations and printed materials.  We discuss the state of the furniture industry in America:  a woman who will spend a thousand dollars on a coat; a man buys a $2000.00 mountain bike;  the two expect to pay $500.00 for a sofa.   There’s lots of opportunity here.

I exchange cards with two women seeing our work for the first time.  We’re planning to show here again.  Next market people will be expecting us.

Laurie (text) and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
Olive trees  Oil on canvas 18 x 14 inches  $250.00
Laurieolivetrees4-26-9.jpg (421 KB | )

Title: Re: 4 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Bob_Abrahams on Apr 26th, 2009 at 11:45pm
I like this

Title: Re: 5 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on May 3rd, 2009 at 8:10pm
“Your order is ready, sir,” the respectful clerk points out to a man in a suit.  He has just become engaged in conversation with another fellow.  Despite the fact the counter is chock full of trays, she doesn’t press him.  I am tempted to hand it to him: in Connecticut this is grounds to steal his breakfast.   A couple of minutes later, he finishes his conversation and picks up his coffee and biscuit.  So goes a day in North Carolina.

I think of the slow food movement, and realize this is the slow life movement:  a joyful alternative to the land of stress and achievement that I come from.    The slow life is conducive to politeness and respect.   I can understand the slow life movement only while I am immersed in it.  As soon as I cross the Mason-Dixon line I revert to my fast, multi-tasking lifestyle.

Ron, the building custodian, drops by every day for a cup of coffee (or two or three) and a discourse on raising dogs.   He has three to 21 dogs depending when you talk to him.  “Blow three times in her nose and she’ll mind next time ,” he advises.  Harika eyes him suspiciously.   He has theories about air-conditioning and the Internet, tractor trailers and white bacon (others tell me).  I find myself looking forward to his visits, and a completely new, revolutionary approach to a subject.

Visiting is just a step away from sales.  We visit with each other, waiting for customers, and then we visit with the customers.  I finish with some art sales, although only a quarter of my best year’s – I am pleased with what I got, and evaluate my market a success on a number of levels, not only financial.

Over chicken pot pies with our longest standing friends, we hear the dilemma of women wanting to occupy the “old boys” table at a local club.  The table, originally set aside for men without women to cook for them, has become an unofficial cultural center.  “No” was the answer from all but one of the men.

Another southern friend, who has lived up north,  jokes about how a single sex table in New York City would certainly be one of women.

I can’t believe the kindness people show me here, from help at the grocery store (at the self check-out no less) to the people at the sidewalk barbecue heating up our ribs and giving us the pan.   No one ever makes me feel bad.

We take a cocktail at the international buyers party.  I chat with a woman who is mourning the death of her sister last year.  “I could call her and talk, talk, talk about anything,” she tells me.  “ When I was sick she came and spent two months with me; I did the same for her.  I will never have another sister.”  I am surprised and flattered by her intimate words with me.  I am so happy to be in a situation where socializing is just that, without an ulterior motive.

We make a sort of pot-luck dinner with friends one night.  I prepare moroccan shrimp, and the host makes a marinated pork loin on the barbecue.   One of the attendees recounts a story about how his company bought a burial suit for one of their West Virginia vendors, as a performance reward.  The fellow looked so good in the new clothes, his brothers took him out of the casket and supported his lifeless body for a “family photo”.

The last day of Market, the outdoor restaurant which kindly served Blair, Harika and me our lunch, formally thanked the three of us for our business, refreshing Harika's water bowl.

I am loving the south, where I am destined to stay for another week, since Blair’s mother fell and broke her hip, while we were heading home.   I am seeking further places to sell our artwork more locally – we’ve an appointment here on Thursday.  I stroll with Harika around the grounds of the retirement home and listen to the birds.

Laurie (paintings and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
4 Scenes from Market   Acrylic on masonite 12 x 12 inches   $175.00 each
LaurieMarket1-2-3-4_5-3-9.jpg (192 KB | )

Title: Re: 6 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on May 17th, 2009 at 7:54pm
My dance card has diminished by 95% since I am living in Branford, Connecticut.  Our 70-plus visitors a year have declined to 5.  I count on my visitors for their pearls of wisdom and their entertaining stories of faraway places and personal events.   It’s not always what they say, but sometimes who they are.

One of Thursday’s visitors,  is  a slightly older woman, an artist and art educator.  She has been “losing it”, or “slipping around the bend”.  She forgot her glasses on the trip (she wears them all the time), and lost her watch between her hotel and our house.  “I have this phenomenon” she expounds, “where I go to look for something, and I can be staring right at it, but not see it.”  I suggest maybe it is her eyes, but no, it is something deeper.  The visit is a guessing game to finish her sentences.  I have always been bad at that, but her companion is doing a great job.

I’ve always said when my mind starts to go, I will take the boat out into the ocean and go for a swim.  It’s not so apparent when I look at her.  And will I just think I am having a good time, and promise myself to go boating  again?

She is cognizant of her situation, which makes it all the more disturbing.  No doddering old woman, she is still painting and exhibiting.   Maybe it’s just a temporary lapse.

The two who came on Thursday were friends of Q, our old Paris buddy.   They came to toast him, and we drank real champagne in his honor (begin thrifty, he often served Cremant).  I cooked up a Moroccan lamb and rice dish, and we had fiddle leaf  ferns to start.  M told me about first sleep and second sleep, when I talked about how Harika gets up every day to go out before 6.  I now get back in bed for twenty minutes after the walk.

Harika is a terrific ice breaker.  It is hard not to smile when someone says, “she looks like a scrappy one!”  We are grateful for her positive attitude.  A lady suggested the “Happy Tails” dog grooming salon yesterday.

With a  visitor from NYC on Saturday, we drove to Blue Back Square, a “new” development in West Hartford.   It is an impressive mix of the old and the new, an urban blending of retail, restaurant and residential.  I always wish there were more small, local businesses, but they don’t have the depth to qualify for these high end leases.  Nonetheless (neanmoins, in French -- I love that word) it was very nice.

We are in the process of renting a small space within an architectural antique mall near us.  S thinks maybe the 350.00 a month is too much.  Granted, business is way down.  Sleep on it.    We go to the library and bookstore together and get self-help books.  “Write it all down,” they advise.

Away from the Blue Back complex, in West Hartford, we eat for the second time this week at Plan B, a burger joint with outdoor dining.  Theirs is all natural beef,  ground to order for the burger.  I order a blue cheese burger, “pink”.   (Last time, I had the New England burger with big chunks of lobster on top; Blair has the meatloaf and smoked gouda mashed potatoes)    I argue with my friend about living in Connecticut.  I have no friends here.  He tells us to move to the bigger city of West Hartford, in the new development.  As  we are eating lunch at the street cafe, a charming woman chats me up – it turns out she’s from Winston-Salem, North Carolina and we have mutual friends there.  “See, she wasn’t FROM Connecticut”.

Laurie (paintings and text) and Blair PESSEMIER

Three views:   Apple Blossoms on the hill (12 x 9 on canvas panel) ; Crabapple Blossoms (12 x 9 on canvas panel);  Dogwood  (6.5 x 12.5)   $125.00 each.
LauraBlossoms5-17-9.jpg (163 KB | )

Title: Re: 7 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on May 27th, 2009 at 7:03pm
I want to live a romantic life.  Not romance in the amorous sense (although I am not adverse to that), but romancing life itself.  For example, on Memorial Day we rolled up our Moroccan rug and hauled it out to the green in front of the house, Blair and I, Harika and three friends picnicked.  We grilled large, fresh sardines on the barbecue early in the morning, and roasted beets and peppers.   With our wicker picnic hamper, we were a Cartier-Bresson photograph.

I’ve given up on winning the money race, not that I ever was a contender.  I am in the race for happiness.    I am weaving a tapestry of joyous times and warm feelings.  We planted geraniums, with my parents, on the graves of dead relations on Saturday.  Did anyone remember how much money they had?  No.  We recalled the romantic times:  eating Sunday dinner together; my Grandmother's long braids; Uncle Walt dressed up as Santa; Marie going to the grocery store in her new hot pink bloomers, she thought they were so pretty.  

A Lobster Shack opened near our house.  With picnic tables and striped umbrellas, it sits at the edge of the boat basin (that used to be a wire factory).  I can walk there with my paints, which I did yesterday, when it was sunny.  I painted the clam man delivering his net bags of quahogs.

It isn’t easy to find romance in these parts.  My very act of painting has come up against the law.  For the second time in a month, I was thrown out of a public park for painting.  This time, with two strongarms escorting me away.    Just talking about that sucks the romance out of my sails.  I am not sure what the reasons might be for stopping me from painting, but I guess it’s just something unknown, and that in itself, is scary to some.

The most romantic thing around here is a swing, hanging from an enormous tree, at the Trolley Trail.  Another artist, a professor from Yale, installed the wood and rope swing and willed the land to the town of Stony Creek.  It looks out over the little bay into Long Island Sound.    At its apex you can feel like a seagull.

We go to the beach at 6 AM these days.  After 8, there are NO DOGS ALLOWED, so we try to get our beach time in early or very late.  This morning there were two large white herons fishing, knee deep, at the shore.   We waited in the car until they left, before letting out our bird dog.  Every day we find something new and romantic there.

At the A and P this morning, I found a bag of frozen peas  in the cart by our car in the parking lot.  Not romantic, but practical.  I tossed them in the trunk.

Laurie and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
Harbor at New Haven     M. Blair PESSEMIER  Oil on canvas  18 x 12 inches  $225.00
LaurieBoatBasin5-27-9.jpg (88 KB | )

Title: Re: 8 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Jun 1st, 2009 at 5:11am
Our favorite park, Hammonasset,  began charging a $10.00 entry fee in May.  We’ve been going there two or three times a week all year, and the fee was prohibitive.   So, we invested $50.00 in a yearly pass for Connecticut State Parks – free, all the time, all year.

The sticker arrived, US mail, and we put it in our car window at once.   I made up some chicken salad, and lettuce, tomato and bread.  We filled a water bottle and white wine bottle:  instant picnic.   Less than an hour later, we were waved through the gates of Hammonasset State Park.

We staked our table under the pines, and ate.   Harika dug holes in the sand, and laid on the pine needles while I painted.

In fact, "Hammonasset" means, "where we dig holes in the ground" and refers to the place where a settlement of eastern woodland Indians farmed along the Hammonasset River. They subsisted on corn, beans, and squash, and by fishing and hunting. The first colonists arrived in 1639. “Property changed hands frequently between Native Americans and the first colonists” the website reads.  I’ll bet.  

Hammonasset became a state park in 1920.  Now, over a million visitors a year come there.  There are over two miles of beach.

There are fabulous birds at the park.  We saw an upland sandpiper, and several ospreys.  The most interesting birds, however are the human variety.

There was a wedding taking place, near a hook and ladder firetruck sporting a giant flag;  an enormous white tent; seven attendants dressed in blue, a flower girl in white with a blue sash; a whole pig turning on the spit.   Jars of sand with candles  let us know the party would go well into the night.    There is a campground in the park.

There were old and young people at the beach, yappy dogs and crying babies.    Kids played at the edge of the water.  A giant frog kite flew overhead and a red-white-and-blue windmill affair flew from a string on the line of another kite.    There were simple kites and elaborate ones, all reigning over the scene.

A Hispanic family picnicked near us, the men playing soccer, and beautiful women and children visiting at the table as the pork sizzled on the grill.  An Islamic family cooked a large piece of beef.  “Smells good,” we commented.  “Come and join us a little later, when it’s done,” the man said, “I mean it.”

This time, we spent several hours at the park, basking in all-around joy.  These are the things I like best about America.

Laurie (painting and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
Day at the Beach    LFP  Acrylic on canvas  20 x 8 inches    $175.00

LAURIEdayatthebeach5-31-9.jpg (82 KB | )

Title: Re: 9 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Jun 21st, 2009 at 11:21pm
It was a wonderful sight to see men and women by the sea, at the first call to prayer in Tunisia.  Saleh would be walking, ever serious.  Samir would look out to sea, sometimes smoking, rubbing his back, sore from sleeping on the couch away from his beautiful wife; they already had two children they couldn't afford.  Fatima would be sitting on a rock, mumbling to herself.  From time to time there would be a man in his skivvies, rubbing himself, washing his hair in the icy ocean.

This morning, at the beach in Branford, CT, a man, in motley dress, drank coffee, baited his line, and fed the birds.  In my red raincoat, I came over the rock promontory, upsetting his morning ablution. I was transported to any shore, any country, any man, discovering the visceral roots of our being.

We've been traveling some, taking care of Blair's mother in Charlottesville.  In her retirement home, it is anything but visceral, every detail thought out for safety, privacy and cleanliness.  We fed her dinner, every night, setting off the smoke alarm, frying crab cakes.  That was as down to earth as it got.  We laughed as we waited for the fire brigade to arrive.

My picture of Sam's folding chair and another, of the dove that flew in our window while he  was there are on exhibit this week at the Egyptian Cultural Center in Paris.  We won't be there for tonight's opening, but will be traveling on the night of the 23rd to see the last two days of the show.

Amazing, how that all worked out. I had left two paintings with my women's painting group last March (08).  I am a terrible as a group's person and had been tempted to resign from the club.  My dues are in arrears, without a Euro bank account, difficult to pay.  I received an email from them two weeks ago saying they would submit my work for consideration.  Voila!

In Charlotttesville, we went to the Aboriginal Art Museum, the Kluge-Ruhe.  I love these dream paintings and for the first time kind of connected with the idea.  On the patio, I stretched out a long bit of canvas and painted Harika in the grass.  Well, she's my dream dog.

The idea of going to Paris next week turns up the corners of my mouth.  I can't think of it without falling in love again.   My heart races and my palms tingle with the prospect of walking along the Seine.  It is only a visit this time.  I must stay in America until our accident claim is concluded.  But when that happens we will buy champagne from Joel on St. Germaine and celebrate.

At 7 AM, we leave the beach, and the fisherman to his thoughts.  We pass a new bird as we walk to the car, and I make a note to look him up in the bird book.

Laurie (painting and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
Dream Dog  Acrylic on canvas  30 x 20 inches  $250.00
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Title: Re: 10 of 10 Paintfox
Post by Admin on Jun 25th, 2009 at 11:21pm
This morning on the way home from the beach (6:44 AM), there was a dead animal in the road.  It was a fluffy fox, and I made Blair stop the car.  My intention was to take it home, but seeing it was too large for the freezer (for later paintings), I was determined to move it to the side of the road.  It was pretty well intact, a leg broken in an odd way, but clearly dead, eyes partly open, small delicate mouth showing little teeth.   A walker passed by, and said – “there’s another one over there, alive.”  Sure enough, the fox’s mate was waiting in anticipation for her to join him.

Blair arrived, and with gloves my father gave me last winter (for emergency),  Blair dragged the poor devil out of the street and onto the grass.   As we got into our car across the street, the other fox looked across the road to the ravine.  Then he smelled her.  He walked over, paused a moment as if to be sure, and then ran back across the road, into the ravine.  

I can still smell the fox, even though it is no longer near me.  I washed the gloves, in hot water, in the washing machine.

it’s been a year since the car accident that changed our direction.  It was such a shocking thing to occur – but we were lucky to have survived and now it’s time to go ahead.

At the beach this morning, Harika chased the extended family of geese (we’ve known them since they were grey-yellow fuzz) into the water, hollering.   The dozen or so of them effect a noteworthy force, but our fearless terrier shows them her teeth.  

The water is nearly warm enough to swim in, although Harika goes in nearly year round.  I went up to my knees, stepping on hundreds of  bigorneaux snails.   We used to eat them on the seafood platter at the Galatee in Trouville, including a time the sea came into the restaurant and washed beneath our feet.  The same snails are served in Chinatown in Boston, in a big bowl, with an oversized common pin to extract them.

At the lesser beach the yellow-crowned night heron was fishing.  Two huge white herons flew off when they saw the dog, but the night heron knows she’s on the leash.

Laurie and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
Iris at the Beach   MBP   Oil on canvas  28 x 22 inches  $325.00
LaurieFlowers7-7-9.jpg (134 KB | )

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